January first, 1979. ‘Krishnaji came down early as he does each morning to wish me a good morning, but today he wished me a Happy New Year. He picked a little white blossom from the vine off the veranda and gave it to me. These have an intense, sweet smell. It was another clear, sunny day and a quiet one as Krishnaji rested until his second Madras talk in the garden at 5 p.m.’
The second. ‘At 9:30 a.m., Krishnaji held a discussion in the Vasanta Vihar hall with a small group who actually did the discussing sitting in a circle while a large group sat around as observers. The subject was: "What is a religious life?" Participating in the small group discussing with Krishnaji were: Achyut, Pupul, Sunanda, David Shainberg, Evelyne Blau, Nelly Digby, Narayan, Rajesh, Krishnakutti, and me. In the afternoon, the ever-around-the-corner stomach symptoms hit me again, but Dr. Parchure’s pills controlled things, and I was able to go at 4 p.m. with Nandini and Pupul to tea at Mrs. Jayalakshmi’s. Though it is only around the corner, she came quite formally to take us in her car. It is a different house, though nearby the one I went to in 1965. Her house is in the back, and her son and daughter-in-law live in one in the front. A pretty garden of flowering shrubs and stone statues separates the two houses.’ That was where I first saw a collection of Nandis which led to my admiration and her asking, “Do you think Krishnaji would like one for Ojai?” I said, well, I can’t speak for him, but I should imagine he would be delighted, but ask him. So, she did, and he said, “Oh yes.” and when the first one was delivered, he said, “Oh, that’s nice. It’d be nice to have two of them.” Well, you know, it’s quite an investment because it’s big, made out of black granite. So, he had spoken, and that was it.

January third. ‘Again, the small group discussed at 9:30 a.m. with Krishnaji while a large group listened. I stayed out of it this time because Michael was to film it. But because of complaints about the lights, he didn’t. At lunch were Krishnaji, David Shainberg, Professor Ravi Ravindra, Nandini, Pama, and I. At 5 p.m., Sunanda, Pupul, and I went to Prema’s to look at sample saris she is collecting for an October showing in Bombay. She works with weavers in Kancheepuram, and I ordered a very pretty one, and Sunanda gave me a creamy cotton one she had from the last sale. Dr. Sudarshan, sat in with Krishnaji at supper.
The fourth of January. ‘At 9:30 a.m., there was again a small group discussing with Krishnaji in the hall with a large group listening. I rejoined the small group. The theme was still what is a religious life, but a professor from Madras University slowed it down with questions on technique. Shainberg was at lunch, but later flew with his son Steven to Delhi and on to New York. In the afternoon, Krishnaji and two cars of us drove with Padma Santhanam to a beach south of Madras where there is land to build an enlargement of The School.’ That’s the Krishnamurti Foundation School in Madras. Krishnaji didn’t like it at all: a flat expanse of sand, no trees or vegetation, too far to bring children, etcetera. We came back past the TS Damodar Gardens, which is for sale, and Krishnaji is now keen for that. Evelyne joined us for supper.’ : January fifth. ‘At 8 a.m., while Krishnaji spent the day resting, three cars of us drove to Kancheepuram. Prema was very informative historically, and she had arranged the day. We visited a big temple first, and saw the temple elephant confined with leg chains as he is on a must…’We threw him a large bunch of bananas, which he ate as if it were one. And he seemed to sense our sympathy, holding up a leg that seemed to have a sore. I had my first glimpse of Brahmin priests, heads shaven to a pigtail or bun in the back, earrings in the right ear, of course the sacred thread, complicated dhoti swaddling them, then a large v of white ash with vertical red line on the forehead, chest, and each upper arm. We were shown by the light of a paper dipped in oil, the statues of a deity in a dark shrine. Then, the head priest, a hugely fat one, put in our cupped palms water with saffron and camphor to touch with lips and pour remains on one’s head. A round crown was touched to each head. Then some leaves in each palm, all this a blessing. Prema had arranged a showing of the temple jewels which were carried forth in chests and taken out one by one for us to see but not touch. A crown for the god in gold inlayed with uncut diamonds, huge emeralds, smaller goddess crowns, some long necklaces, and most exquisite, a little hand, a palm of blessing about five inches high, all gold, and the palm encrusted with diamonds.’ ‘All these are shown on certain festivals when they ornament the statues of the deities. We then went into another temple with a large and splendid Nandi facing it. Inside the courtyard, there were niches with bas-reliefs of Shiva and Parvati. Many of Shiva dancing, a smile on his face, right leg straight up alongside his ear, and a bashful Parvati…’ That was the consort of Shiva kneeling beside him. This was something about Shiva’s dance, when he out-danced his wife.’ ‘Everything he did, she did, until finally he won by raising the leg up.’ She was too bashful to do that.
In one most charming niche, there was a Nandi dancing beside Shiva, all smiles. One can see fragments of the paint that was on all these, but it is largely gone.’ They are restoring some of the statues, but it is ugly, fake-looking restoration. ‘We then went to a sari shop for the famous Kancheepuram heavy silk saris.’ That’s where those all come from, very South Indian. Apparently, if you know about such things, you can tell by looking at a woman’s sari where it came from, or if it came from there. ‘A pre-Pongal sale was on, so there was not too much choice left. But I bought one for Mrs. Parchure, and one for Evelyne, who didn’t come, and green and red one for me.’ I don’t remember it; I’ve given away most of my Indian clothes. ‘Then, amazingly, we were served lunch brought by Prema in a back room. Lunch for fourteen, even water and towels and soap to
wash our hands were brought. After lunch we went to the weavers where the saris are made, and Pupul was greeted as an empress.’ She knew all of these when she was doing the handcraft business. ‘The best weaver of all, now retired, was sent for, and came quickly to greet and be greeted. They showed their present wares, and Pupul saw how the level had deteriorated in the short time since she gave up all this. There were three saris left from her designs. Nandini bought two, and I bought one as a present for Sunanda. We drove back to Vasanta Vihar. Krishnaji came, and inspected the loot with interest and approval.’
Mrs. Parchure was very shy, but I think was pleased with her sari. So was Evelyne with hers, a red, very traditional one, and wore it to the Santhanams, where all of us except Krishnaji, including the Brockwood people, Frances, Eleanor, Kathy, Julie, were invited. I wore a gray print sari. Nandini brought it and helped me to put it on. The food was very good and simpler than we have had. The house was large and comfortable with a large garden.’

January sixth, 1979, and we’re in Madras. ‘As I seem to have embarked on wearing saris, I was glad to go to town with Prema to arrange the making of the blouses and extra petticoats that wearing saris requires. Also, I went in earlier with Nandini for essentials of life: a box of tissues, some medicine, and for the obvious Newsweek and Time. At 4 p.m., I put on a cotton sari by myself, which for now amuses Krishnaji,’ ‘and which I feared, but of which he approves. And at 5 p.m., he gave his third talk,  which seemed to fill the mind and dissolve it. I feel silent, disembodied after such a talk.’ “Order is sequence in space.”’ That was a quote from the talk. ‘He had a cough, problem. Dr. Parchure brought him a glass of water and laid it on the dais, but he didn’t see it until Kathy Harris pushed it forward he went into fear, thought, and the foundations of order.’

The eighth. ‘Mrs. Gandhi came to Madras to see Krishnaji. She arrived here with Pupul at 10:45 a.m. and spent an hour with Krishnaji, after which she rested in Pupul’s cottage. Then, before lunch, she met in the hall those who were lunching here. Pupul then brought her to Krishnaji’s upstairs dining room, and left her with me while she went to speak to Krishnaji.’ I asked her about the jail she was recently in for a week. What was it like? She answered quite readily, a cell for six but she had it to herself, beds are raised, stone shelves. Hers had no mattress but a quilt to lie on and one over her. “I am used to a hard bed so it was alright.”’ ‘Food was brought from her home, newspapers were allowed, and she brought books. The bars on the window bothered her, which was a little surprising to me as all houses in India seem to have barred windows.’ But she hung blankets over the ones in her cell. It was the cell in which she had put George Fernandez when she was Prime Minister.’ Fernandez was critical or something, so she jailed him.

‘Krishnaji, Mrs. Gandhi, Pupul, and I were at the lunch table. Krishnaji went out of his way to be the host; to entertain her, he told her some of his best funny stories. She listened expressionless until the joke at the end, then smiled.’ It was as if she were barely listening until the cue came to smile. Krishnaji tells these stories with such charm and enjoyment that it is always a pleasure listen to him, but there was no relaxation with her. Mrs. Gandhi is a smallish, very held-in woman. She wore a black and white sari, not the taste of Pupul’s, but she has nice neat feet and cared-for toenails.’ ‘She was uncertain about removing her sandals outside the dining room and followed what Pupul did. After lunch, she went off in her car accompanied by an enormous, tough-looking bodyguard. She reappeared in the big hall shortly after 5 p.m. when M.S. Subbulakshmi had begun to sing. Pupul went to sit by her. She listened without expression. One felt a woman in whom there was little enjoyment or affection. After about forty minutes, she left quietly and Krishnaji got up to see her to her car. In the morning, she had spent an hour with him, and he said that they talked for only about ten minutes of that time; the rest was sitting silently. I had the impression that if she gave up politics, she would be left with nothing, without inner resources.

January ninth. ‘At 7:30 a.m., Krishnaji held a public discussion in the garden. Mostly blustery dull questions were asked.’ The next day: ‘I went with Nelly to Madras Museum to see bronzes and wood carvings, which I enjoyed very much. Nelly never stops twitching with criticism of everything, but I think she had enjoyed things. We stopped at the Bank of America to cash travelers’ checks, which takes a long time in a long line.
The next day there is only ‘at 7:30 a.m. another public discussion held by Krishnaji in the garden.’
January twelfth. ‘At 7:30 a.m., Sunanda, Prema, Nelly, and I went in Prema’s car to Mahabalipuram. We paused to look at a large hotel called Fisherman’s Cove on a beautiful beach. The temple by the sea was beautiful. We went to others and then had a picnic breakfast supplied by Prema, sitting in the shade of a huge rock. She does everything so nicely and with such enthusiasm. We saw the long rock carving of Krishna holding up the mountain against a storm, a lovely carving of a cow being milked and licking her little calf which nestles against her. Other carvings, too, of gods and a man doing difficult austerities with a Nandi copying him.’ ‘We came back with air conditioning in the car, stopped at Prema’s beach house for coconut juice, and were back at Vasanta Vihar for lunch. Evelyne left at 4 p.m. for Delhi and on to Los Angeles. At 5 p.m., there was a concert by Palghat Mani Iyer and Professor Ramanathan, who sang very well, and later told me he is at Wesleyan University.’

January thirteenth. ‘I woke up with a sore throat. There was a discussion at breakfast with Krishnaji, Achyut, Sunanda, Radha, and I on what Krishnaji means by "no recording". I asked if he meant no recall. He said, “In insight, there is no recording.” I asked him about The Notebook that he wrote, in which he describes what happened earlier. He said, it was not written using memory. The words 'happened' at the moment of writing. Before the talk, Krishnaji’s fifth in Madras, Narayan spoke about the schools and I made an appeal for donations explaining a little about the American and English Foundations. Krishnaji gave a deeply moving talk on a religious life.’
The fourteenth. ‘Krishnaji called me to talk to him with Achyut and Sunanda about the TS and Damodar Gardens, which the KFI wants to get for enlargement of the Madras school. Radha told Achyut that they might want two TS members on the board. Krishnaji asked me what I thought. I spoke for myself and perhaps those like Erna and Theo who feel that a TS member on the board is a blurring of Krishnaji’s break with the TS. Krishnaji got impatient with what I said; I stayed with it, and pointed out his statement that he would have not allowed Rajagopal to edit his books if he’d known he was still a member of the TS. Krishnaji wants this land, and said I was being stupid. I said, perhaps, but he asked me what I thought about the land, so I told him. Achyut tried to minimize the importance; he is trying to make the TS’s demands acceptable to us, instead of the other way around. I said Radha, because of her personal qualities, has been accepted in spite of being with the TS—she was already a trustee—and that has rankled with some. Finally, Krishnaji said, “Do you feel it?” meaning something else was at work. I said, I didn’t have his perception, and the decision was obviously his. But he wouldn’t accept that. “It is your responsibility.” I said he was trying to force me to say something I didn’t feel. Either I said it or kept silent. Finally, we were “interrupted” so it ended. But later he told me that he had felt “a presence” in the room as we talked. That one must remain open to “something” being at work. The TS was meant to help the work of the World Teacher; perhaps this is an opening. At lunch were Krishnaji, Mr. and Mrs. John Coats, Joy Mills, Radha, Achyut, Pama, and me. Mr. Coats was amiably chatty, and his wife was the same. Only at the end of lunch did Krishnaji bring up interest in getting the land. Coats and Joy Mills said they thought it a good idea. It was agreed that some of us should look at the land tomorrow. On leaving, Joy Mills asked Krishnaji, rather archly, if he would like to live in his old roo ‘He looked startled and a little suspicious. At 5 p.m., Krishnaji gave his sixth and final talk of the series, a long, deep one on many things. His voice was deep and from far off. He put tremendous energy into it, and at the end sat in silence while the large crowd seemed not to breathe. As he moved toward the house, people flowed in a tide around him, touching him in worship. He went upstairs alone, and some impulse made me follow. He stood in the dark, and held onto me for a moment when I came to him, and felt he would faint. He sat on the floor, and said, “Don’t touch me now.”’ He had fainted sometimes; I was always afraid he’d hurt himself.
I sat near him and in a few seconds he fainted slowly toward me. He lay there several minutes, then came to and said he was alright. He went into the bathroom, washed, changed from a dhoti to pajamas and said he wanted to walk. The crowd had streamed away, so he went out and walked with Jayalakshmi. At supper, he ate with everyone as usual, and afterwards stayed far too long talking to the Bangalore school people: Kabir, and Anataswami, and a third one.’

 The sixteenth. ‘At breakfast, Krishnaji, Radha, Sunanda, Pama, and I had a discussion on reincarnation of which this is a rough summary: There is a 'stream' ( of collective consciousness ?) , which is thought, attachments, etcetera. Thought is a material process. If when the body dies, attachment, etcetera, has not been understood and ended, that attachment, that thought continues as part of the stream. It can manifest in another but it is not reincarnation of a 'total' person. Ego is an illusion. The desire for reincarnation—the wanting another chance is part of attachment, thought, the stream. Karma—cause and effect, is meaningless if one sees this. After breakfast, Sunanda and I went to buy suitcases. I sent flowers to Jayalakshmi, Prema, and Radha. Mrs. Gandhi, when she came to Madras, said she would come to see Krishnaji, which was printed, so people are asking what Krishnaji said to her. The Indian Express man asked Krishnaji, but he smiled and shook his head. At 6 p.m., Sunanda and I went to a Kalakshetra dance performance put on by Rukmini Devi.’ she eyed us as we sat in the theater waiting for the performance to start. So, perhaps is keepSng tabs.’ I remember she came to Huizen to see what this was, who are these new people around Krishnaji. It was quite something. She sat appraising and looking at everything. Krishnaji was extremely polite with her at the time. ‘We left after one act as Prema had to…’ do something about dinner. ‘Krishnaji, Pama, Parchure, Vatsala, and Prema’s children.’

January seventeenth. ‘Mr. and Mrs. Rex Henry were at breakfast. Afterward, Amru’—she is another of Pupul’s sisters, also then in Bombay—‘and then Sivakamu and her brother Yadnya came to greet Krishnaji. Sunanda and I went with Padma Santhanam to visit The School KFI. It’s a nice building, plaster half the way up, then lattice sides and palm leaf thatch on the roof. Children are two-and-a-half to ten years of age. It seems an excellent school. The children sang, danced, and did a little play—most endearing children. One little boy with enormous black eyes was as beautiful a child as I’ve ever seen. A little French girl was looking at pictures by herself, not understanding English, and it was touching as she was so pleased when I talked to her in French. She came and sat with me when the other children danced. Padma is responsible for this school, and it is a fine job. She and her husband lunched with us at Vasanta Vihar. At 4 p.m., I went to tea with Mr. and Mrs. Rex Henry at the Olcott Bungalow in the TS. We sat on the porch outside and were joined by Dick Clarke. He was more than willing to discuss Esoteric Section meetings when I said I knew nothing about it. It seems they meet weekly, members only, and they must be punctual at 8 a.m. and give a password to get in, sign an attendance book, then facing the pictures.’  They have pictures of the Masters they recite together some sort of salute, sit, and then the one conducting the meeting (usually Radha) addresses them, speaking on something for forty-five minutes, after which there is some sort of pledge, and it is promptly over.’ ‘ Krishnaji said he would like to ask the only surviving person who “knew the boy” [meaning himseslf] when he was found, Dick Clarke, about what happened. So, it was arranged that Jayalakshmi would invite him for lunch. It was a very hot day but a bit cooler at Jayalakshmi’s when we all went there at 12:30 p.m. Krishnaji had on a dhoti and looked resplendent. Present were the Henrys, Mr. and Mrs. John Coats, Dick Clarke, the Santhanams, Sunanda, Pama, and me. It began with singing by a man from Kalakshetra accompanied by flute, mridangam, and tamboure. During this, Subbulakshmi, husband Sudarshan, niece Radha, and the latter’s little girl came to listen. The child crawled over and sat half in my lap. After singing, nine Brahmin priests chanted;  ‘The chanting went on rather relentlessly. At one point, I thought they had gone beyond stopping and would continue all day. But some sort of high sign was given for it slowed down to an "Om", and ended. Krishnaji handed out the rewards like diplomas:  a dhoti, a banana, certain traditional leaves, and a piece of paper money. They all plucked at the money. Somehow it all seemed a business affair, in spite of their extraordinary appearance, they could have come to sell insurance. They looked around, scratched themselves while chanting, and it was very perfunctory. Subbulakshmi and family departed, and the rest sat down to Mrs. Jayalakshmi’s sumptuous meal. I counted over nineteen separate things, vegetables, etcetera, without counting sweets or drinks.’ Toward the end of lunch, Krishnaji began to ask Dick Clarke about what Krishnaji was like when they found him. Clarke seemed to remember it all clearly. Krishnaji kept at him with questions, holding Clarke’s left hand and ticking off the questions on his fingers.’ ‘Sunanda took down in shorthand the whole conversation, which went on until 5 o’clock. I recorded bits of it on my Dictaphone. The Coats family listened raptly to it, but he and Radha had to leave midway for a TS meeting. Krishnaji seemed to feel that what “the boy” was like and whatever went on in his mind—as he kept asking—eluded him.’. ‘But for me, the picture was a true line throughout; the dreamy child who when punished by the school master would stand on the veranda until told to leave, who often had to be fetched home by his little brother was a gentle, compliant boy who replied to his TS elders, “Whatever you say” when asked about doing something. He was polite and accepting, but not really touched by their world; it went in one ear and out the other. He learned outward things: manners, speech, witnessed the TS goings-on, but it left little mark; he was 'elsewhere'. He remembers vaguely standing by the Adyar River for hours, staring at it, vacant. This vacancy was some 'otherness' that protected him, let whatever he is grow, mature very slowly. It protected him from most of the pulls of life later on, from the brutalities of Rajagopal and Rosalind. It is there today when he is “off,” when he sits in Hamish Thompson’s dental chair for four hours without a thought; his 'reality' is elsewhere, as it were. I said all this to him later and at supper when we all talked a bit about it. In the Rajagopal and Rosalind times, he said he was sometimes physically beaten, but he didn’t resist their violence as he hadn’t fought against the wretched schoolmaster as a child. It all left no scars, just as the Theosophical beliefs did not condition his mind.

January nineteenth. ‘Very hot. This climate is becoming a bit too much. Packed. Frances McCann and Anantanarayenen to lunch. Thinking of yesterday, I told Krishnaji that though he doesn’t talk definitively about what happened to him as a boy, what the concept of Masters really is, etcetera, unless he makes some statement, his own words written as a boy recounting the initiations, going to visit Masters, etcetera, will stand as his testimony. I asked to read that statement to him and let him consider if he wishes to comment. He thought for an instant only and then said, “Alright. Remind me about all this when we get to Ojai, and I’ll make a statement.” Radha and Vatsala at supper with Krishnaji, Sunanda, Pama, and me. We leave early tomorrow.’
The twentieth. ‘Up at 4:15 a.m. Bathed and ready to leave by 5:15 a.m. Sunanda is coming next week, but Krishnaji, Pama, and I said goodbye to Parameshwaram and all the staff and left for the airport at 6 a.m. Yesterday, I gave Parameshwaram a dhoti and 700 rupees, and he seemed pleased and talked of what he would buy for his son Mani. Ganesh, the servant who cleans my room, etcetera touched my feet in farewell, which I tried to stop. Nataraj had gone ahead with the luggage and tickets, so when we arrived at the airport, there was only the farewells. Jayalakshmi had more beads for Krishnaji and for me. I felt a renewed sense of friendship with her. We boarded, had a bit of a wait until some fog burned away, and then flew off. The captain invited Krishnaji and me (because I was with him) to come into the cockpit.’ ‘The view from there was marvelous, and a complexity of instruments at the center of the controls of the Boeing 707 that was beyond me. We landed in Bombay and coolness; a marvelous life-giving cool. There to meet us were Nandini, Pupul, and Asit, at whose apartment we are staying. We drove in his fifteen-year-old 190-D Mercedes, air-conditioned, etcetera, into the city. It seems already in the West, with twenty-story buildings everywhere, traffic that could be in Los Angeles—the feel of a Western city. Asit and his wife Minakshi, the daughters Clea, who’s at Rishi Valley School, and Sonali, live in a very modern apartment on the sixth floor. Krishnaji has one bedroom; I have the other; Pupul and Nandini’s mother’s servants, who have cooked for Krishnaji for years, are here—Vimabhai, a thin, ancient, smiling woman in a sari that swaddles her and is often around the head, too, and a toothless man. Also the Chandmals’ maid. All is very comfortable here, and one feels halfway to the West, too. The extravagance of being cool again plus an excellent simple tasting lunch began the climb up to normality again for me. Nandini’s sons, Gansham and Vikram, came to see Krishnaji. I had letters from Amanda.’
January twenty-first. ‘There was a conversation at breakfast between Krishnaji, Pupul, Nandini, Achyut, Pama, Asit, and me on whether the “flame” of the teachings can be handed on. Is insight total, or can it be confined to a particular area or subject? I had a nap in the afternoon, and then at 6 p.m. we all walked around the race course—a good place to walk, and the only open space for miles around.’

The twenty-second. ‘A handful of local psychoanalysts led by a Mr. Nathain came to talk to Krishnaji at 9:30 a.m. They hadn’t a clue.’ ‘Afterwards, Pupul and Nandini took me to the cottage industries.’ That was a place where they sold all the handcrafted things; they had all sorts of things there. ‘I bought a silk sari. I had another nap in the afternoon, and again we all walked around the race course.’
The next day. ‘I shopped with Nandini and Minakshi Chandmal at the Taj Hotel. Another nap in the afternoon. Sunanda arrived with the balance of shirts from Kannan.’ Kannan was the tailor and shirt-maker and all that in Madras. ‘Asit took many photos of Krishnaji, and again we walked around the race course.’
The twenty-fourth. ‘I went with Nandini to the Kolhapuri chappal store in the morning. Then lunched alone with Krishnaji. Krishnaji’s first talk was at 6:15 p.m. I went ahead at 5 p.m. with Pupul. There was a huge crowd. The usual familiar faces were in the foreground, Rajneesh’s U.S. followers smoking pot, all kinds and ages of people. I sat with Nandini and family members behind and to the side of Krishnaji on a small platform in order to get quickly to the car parked just behind.’ It was a few feet, and we could rush to the car. ‘Krishnaji came with Asit. In the talks, he answered his own question, which he has been putting to us: “What is the cause of the degeneration in this country, in the world?” It is the intellect, its overuse. Everything is reduced to a theory or a concept. We do not see things as they are, holistically, but as theories. When Krishnaji stopped speaking, he sat silently for a few moments, and Nandini and I went straight to the car, only yards away. But as Krishnaji rose, so did a wave of people pressing forward to touch him for darshan’—you know, people think they get a blessing if they can touch a holy man. ‘He was caught against the wall by people kissing his hands, his feet, touching him, and in a hysteria of reverence. Asit fought to keep the door of the car open and let him get in. It took minutes. And when he managed it, hands came through the window to touch him. Krishnaji was a figure of compassion, touching as many hands as he could, saying, “Be careful. Be careful.” Nandini called out, “You will be hurt.” And the answer came back in Marathi, “It doesn’t matter.” The chauffeur edged the car forward, but the crowd ahead obliterated the road. It took about ten minutes to drive the 100 or so feet to the street. In the morning, Krishnaji had said, “What will I talk about? Well, I suppose it will come. The day it doesn’t, I’ll shut up shop.”’

January twenty-fifth. ‘At 9:30 a.m., Krishnaji talked to Pupul, Nandini, Asit, Dr. Parchure, Radha, Achyut, Pama, Sunanda, and me about the events in Madras, and Ootacamund in 1948, in Gstaad and Malibu, etcetera’—usually referred to as “the process”—‘in response to the question about what these events meant. He said he remembers none of it. Pupul described her and Nandini’s witness to the 1948 events, and I described similar things that had happened to Krishnaji in my presence. Krishnaji asked if we could have imagined it, and this was ruled out. There was too much similarity in our reporting, and some of the events reported in Pergine, and later with Vanda that she had reported. The conversation lasted till 12:45 p.m., and was taped on cassette by Asit. It will probably be kept as a confidential record for a while in the three archives. It was too long to report here, but no clear answer emerged. The subject needs further talk, and Krishnaji seemed disposed to continue it while here. Mr. and Mrs. Patel came to lunch and brought firey food.’ ‘At 5 p.m., I went with Sunanda and Pama for a drive and had tea at an enormous new hotel, the Oberroi Sheraton. It could’ve been in Los Angeles, New York, or Las Vegas. I was dazed to find Wednesday’s Herald Tribune on sale, the first glimpse since October thirty-first. England is deep in snow; Heathrow and Gatwick are closed. I dined with Sunanda and Pama and Radha across the street from where Krishnaji and I are staying, on the twenty-fifth-floor VIP penthouse of the Indian Express guest apartment, which has been lent to them and Achyut by Mr. Goenkar, who owns the Indian Express newspaper—it is a pro-Janata and anti-Indira political party.’
January twenty-sixth. ‘Krishnaji held a discussion at 9:30 a.m. with about sixty invited guests. It was not a good group for discussion. At lunch were Radha, Frances McCann, Sunanda, Pama, Krishnaji, and me. Radha has given me the list of the manuscripts and letters, etcetera, sent to Krishnaji in 1950 that was part of the archives from the TS and that Rajagopal is withholding from KFA. Nandini brought me a lovely brown and black cotton sari. We walked on the race course in the late afternoon. People have discovered his walking there, and one determined family of three marched ten feet behind him all the way around.’

The next day, ‘In the morning, Pupul, Nandini, Devi, Mina, and Gansham Mehta’—oh, Gansham is Nandini’s son and I think Mina is his wife—‘and I went shopping, first to an art place where I bought some little enamel birds, a box, and a necklace as gifts. Then, we walked across the street to the cottage industries where I bought a cotton kaftan. I had a quiet lunch with Krishnaji. At 5 p.m., I went with Pupul and Minakshi to the place where Krishnaji was to speak. Rajesh and Upasini were there from Rajghat. At 6:15 p.m., Krishnaji gave his second Bombay talk to a huge crowd. It was on: “Fear is based on thought and time.” Again, he was engulfed by a crowd afterward. A man rubbed Krishnaji’s hand over his face; another put Krishnaji’s fingers in his mouth, so that Krishnaji sat in the car when he finally reached it with his hands palm up, unclean. Nandini, sitting between us, had to get his handkerchief and rub something off his nose. Hands, hundreds of hands, were thrust through the partly opened window, and Krishnaji touched them all as the car crept forward. People marched behind, their hands on the car, as though in that way they kept a contact with him. One man before the talk demanded to be allowed to come and live on the landing outside the door of the flat. When Nandini said it was not possible, he said, “You are keeping me from my god.”’ ‘It was very hot during the talk, oppressive to me. Krishnaji had a slight cold when we got back.’ There’s something hysterical about the Indian crowds.

January twenty-eighth. ‘Krishnaji has no cold symptoms. Various people dropped in here during the morning. At lunch were Krishnaji, Narayan, Asit, Minakshi, and me. At 5 p.m., I went with Pupul and Devi to the JJ Arts’—that’s where he gave the talks in Bombay; it was a big open space in the middle of Bombay—‘where at 6:15 p.m. Krishnaji gave his third Bombay talk, an overwhelming one, deeply moving. It was sacred. The crowd poured through toward him afterward, and what seemed a thousand hands stretching to touch him. He looked dazed, as he so often does after such a talk, but seemed to want to give something to each in the milling crowd. His palms together, he turned to face them all, and finally in the car, through the partly opened window, he let the thrusting hands touch his, as the car moved slowly forward. I felt unable to speak after such a talk, but later had to go with Minakshi, Sonali, and Dr. Parchure to dine with Mr. and Mrs. Parekh, Rishi Valley parents and host to Narayan, Prasad, etcetera. Radha, Achyut, Pama, Sunanda, and Frances were there. I came back directly afterward. Krishnaji was in bed reading and feeling alright. No cold. The vast energy that is within him is beyond explaining.’
The next day. ‘All morning there was a meeting of KFI trustees in which I was included. Krishnaji had a letter from Jean-Michel Maroger that Marie-Bertrande and Diane fell down stone stairs at Diane’s school in Blois. Marie-Bertrande was unhurt, but Diane broke a left thighbone, a clean fracture. Marie-Bertrand was carrying Diane when she fell. It is extraordinary that no other bones were broken in such a fall. One wonders if Krishnaji’s healing has made the child stronger. We walked again around the race course.’
January thirtieth. ‘There was another KFI trustee meeting which Krishnaji attended for a while. Devi took me for some last-minute shopping. I got a bag for Sunanda, eighty-three dollars worth of cheese—gruyere, camembert, etcetera’ ‘as presents for Pupul, Nandini, and the Chandmals. I found a book too on Dürer for the Chandmals. I lunched with them in the Taj at the Rendez-Vous Restaurant, a French restaurant on the top floor. I came back for a nap and later walked on the race course. Krishnaji’s voice is getting hoarse. The race course is windy, but he said it wasn’t, and walked anyway. I came back and discovered, while I was absent this morning, that he told the KFI board, at their urging, that he would give six talks in Bombay next year instead of four, and stay in India until February. I asked why he planned as many talks in Bombay as in the whole of the U.S
 ‘Krishnaji said, “We’ll see, ‘which isn’t good enough. I appealed to Pupul to cut the program down.’
The thirty-first. ‘I went with Nandini, Sunanda, and Frances to Bal Ananda, Nandini’s school for small and very poor children. Rajesh met us there, and took me to the nearby house of two of these children, a room about twelve feet by twelve feet where the family of twelve people live. It was so dark, I could scarcely see inside. The mother was washing clothes on the pavement of the courtyard under a water spigot. The mother and father smiled and made signs of welcome. They offered Rajesh food.’…

‘At 6:15 p.m., Krishnaji gave his fourth Bombay talk. Very fine. Again the crowd was immense and surrounded the car afterward. With some, it was a delicacy of reverence and touching, not grabbing his hands but touching quickly and lightly. After the talks, We dined at a long table. The seating was all men on one side, i.e., Mr. Tantia, Gansham, and Vikram; and then Devi, Nandini, and Mina, and me on the other side. Sudha and her mother were at each end. Mr. Tantia was pleasant and chatty. They want to come to Brockwood Park and Saanen. I gave information but fear they envisage being with Krishnaji more than is possible, which is going to be disappointing. I got back to the flat far too late.’
February first. ‘I packed, and had a long talk with Dr. Parchure, who reported his conversation of this morning with Krishnaji. As his doctor, who has been given responsibility of Krishnaji’s health, he needed Krishnaji to tell him whether he wished to do everything as fully as he wants and then “disappear,” or did he wish to live a long time and conserve the body in strength. Krishnaji said he wanted to live a long time. In that case, said Dr. Parchure, the intelligence of the body was either not functioning or not being listened to. “Your body is giving you signs,” but Krishnaji pays no attention. The falling sick here in India with minor infections is a sign of the bodily resistance lowering. Krishnaji doesn’t give it the necessary rest to build his strength. His feet have been constantly swollen in India, another sign of lessened function. Krishnaji was somewhat impatient with all this, but listened. Dr. Parchure said he must have two days of total rest after each talk, with no two-hour discussions at the breakfast table; he must have at least one meal a day in bed, feet up and not hanging down. And he must rest before traveling to a new place and also on arrival. Krishnaji’s voice was hoarse, a sign he is overusing it. Today, he should’ve rested but tides of people came to pay respects and say goodbye, bringing useless presents of huge boxes of dried fruit that we can’t take. In the afternoon, I found the mad German girl who tried to force her way into Tannegg, and I put her out. And Mrs. Billimoria sent a mother with a son who wants to be a woman, and Krishnaji talked to them both. Finally, they all left. Pupul and Nandini were at supper. Krishnaji went to bed afterward, and so did I. We managed to sleep intermittently until midnight. Then, we had to go to the airport.’
February second. ‘Pama had taken the luggage, tickets, and our passports last night, so there was little for us to do but dress, and be ready to leave the flat at 1 a.m. Asit drove Krishnaji, me, Pupul, Nandini, and Vikram to the airport. A mass were waiting to see Krishnaji off. Achyut, Ahalya, Upasini, Frances McCann, etcetera, were in the VIP lounge provided. Krishnaji was dressed in his Huntsman jacket and trousers, and I was back in slacks, sweater, shoes, and stockings, my native costume again. The flight was called, and when the British Airways plane was loaded and ready to go, a signal came and Krishnaji, Pama, and I drove in a chauffeured car out onto the runway to the foot of the steps of the aircraft. Very VIP. We didn’t have the first row in the first class, but the second. Not as a VIP should be treated.’ ‘The flight took off at 3:20 a.m., and was to have been nonstop to London, but after three hours we came down for fuel in Bahrain. Krishnaji and I for exercise paced the length of the well-kept modern air terminal. We had left Bombay at 3:20 a.m. and were due at Heathrow at 7 a.m., but it wasn’t until 9:30 a.m. when we reached Heathrow. We had to wrestle our own bags; not a porter in sight. I went looking for one or a trolley, and of course, Krishnaji in my absence lifted six of the bags off the turntable. He then found a trolley, and was irritable when I wouldn’t let him load it and push it alone. Doris was waiting inside, and Dorothy and Ingrid were at the cars. They had brought overcoats for us. The cold air and wintry beauty of the countryside made my spirits soar. Snow and ice had kept cars from using the lanes, but it had warmed and rained yesterday, and there is sun today. So we saw only patches of snow and Brockwood welcomed Krishnaji. The house is warm and comfortable. We both felt dazed from travel. Everything looks so clean. It is a luxury to take a drink of water from the tap, to read news of the world, to eat simple food. It is a delight to be here. I slept in the afternoon after Krishnaji had lunch downstairs and then gone to bed. It was happiness to put his tray together for supper. The next day. ‘It was lovely to wake up here, to light a fire in the grate, exercise a little, and then make a delicious breakfast of buttered toast, porridge, etcetera, and eat it slowly at the table in our own little kitchen. The tall trees are bare and beautiful, and the sun came to spend the day, wiping away the silver frost that covered the fields at daylight. My whole organism feels different here, somehow back to normal. The swelling and pain going out of my lower leg and foot, the constant heat was a constant attack on the body in India. This is the climate where I feel best. How narrow is the margin of health in these matters. Obviously different for each body. Krishnaji’s swelling is leaving his feet. He thinks it is the carrot juice he now drinks.’ ‘I think it is the absence of heat. He got up for lunch, took a long nap, and at 4:30 p.m., with Dorothy and the two dogs, we walked up and down the drive. The cold air felt as if it was cleaning my blood. Then I telephoned Vanda in Florence, and Krishnaji spoke to her briefly. Krishnaji rested most of the day. We watched TV, The Two Ronnies’

 February fourth. ‘Yesterday’s sunshine went off behind clouds, but the day stayed dry. Mary and Joe drove down in mid-morning and we talked at length. Krishnaji joined us at 12:30 p.m. Mary is pleased with the six shirts he had made for her, and Joe liked the two Indian scarves. After lunch we all sat in our little kitchen over coffee and biscuits and talked. They left at 4 p.m., and Krishnaji took a nap. He wasn’t feeling like going out, nor was I. Jean-Michel and Marie-Bertrande Maroger are coming on Tuesday.’

February fifth, 1979. Krishnaji and I are at Brockwood . ‘Doris lent me her little car, and I went to Petersfield and caught the 9:20 a.m. to London. There was a dustman’s strike, but the English are tidy and pile their refuse neatly in black plastic bags.’ ‘The city seemed otherwise normal and more relaxed and quiet at this wintry time of the year. It had the wintry gray air remembered from the two years Sam and I spent in London when I had the private pleasure of exploring the city by myself, walking in the grayness, which seemed the breath of London. : February sixth, ‘Jean-Michel and Marie-Bertrande Maroger arrived for two days. Mary Cadogan came to lunch. Krishnaji agreed to go to France sometime this year, probably early in October to do a video interview answering questions from French students.’ That never happened. ‘We discussed Indian matters with Mary Cadogan. At lunch, she described her meeting Rajagopal with her husband when they were in Ojai. He was the kindly old gentleman and spoke only well of Krishnaji.’ One of his acts. ‘All the rest of the day, I packed, washed, ironed, and all was in order by the time I went to bed at 10:30 p.m. Krishnaji said he felt tired. I suspect the accumulated fatigue from India, which he somehow keeps at bay when he is busy, will seep out now. It will be good to be quiet and in one place for a while.’

February seventh. ‘At Heathrow, after checking in, we learned our 1 p.m. flight was delayed by fog, which prevented our incoming flight from landing. We sat in the TWA lounge, read, surviving on two cheese sandwiches till our flight, which got in at 3:30 so we could take off at 4:30. We had the two single forward seats in the nose that Krishnaji likes, and he took the one on the left, which he prefers. We read papers, magazines, and thrillers all the ten-and-a-half-hour flight but also slept fitfully. Landed in Los Angeles at 9:30 p.m. It took an hour to round up our six bags and two packages to go through customs. Mark had the school van to collect us, and we drove past Malibu to Ojai. I was too numb from travel to feel the difference, if any, of not coming home to Malibu. Erna, Theo, Michael, Laura, and Ted were waiting up to greet Krishnaji. The house was beautiful, filled with flowers, in exquisite readiness by Elfriede. The greeting committee soon left, and Krishnaji, quite wide awake, walked from room to room saying, “Do you feel the atmosphere?” and then “I’m glad you have a beautiful house to live in. It is more beautiful than Malibu, and you have a beautiful room in…what’s that place we just came from? Brockwood!”’ ‘And so we have come back.’

The eighth. Krishnaji stayed in bed all morning, but came with Erna, Theo, and me to lunch at Arya Vihara. Both slept all afternoon. Dieter’s son came to 'wake up' the two Mercedes.’ They were put up on blocks while we were away. ‘Krishnaji and I had supper on trays with television and quickly went back to bed and slept afterward. The silence and peace of this house is something alive.’

February tenth. This morning, Krishnaji woke up at 1:30 a.m. and stayed awake, and I did more or less the same, so we both refrained from an afternoon nap to try to adjust to the time zone. Krishnaji said he had felt the full atmosphere of this house almost to the point of fainting in bed yesterday. He said when he goes into the living room, it is so strong, “it is like a temple, one goes very quietly.” It is interesting that it is the living room—a new construction, unlike his bedroom and sitting room in the old cottage where he lived so long. The living room is where the jewels were placed in the foundation by Theo at Krishnaji’s suggestion. Theo has given me a map of where “it” is in the foundation of the school main building—always to the northeast. Evelyne and Lou Blau lunched with us at Arya Vihara. Later, Lou, on the telephone, urged me to get an engineer to advise about the Malibu house…’ The Malibu house was sliding into the ocean.
I marketed in the afternoon. Took a small walk with Krishnaji. My cold has come back.’
The eleventh of February. ‘Krishnaji wanted to talk to Erna and Theo, so we did that all morning. Max Falk was at lunch, and afterward Krishnaji and I with Max, Mark, Erna, and Theo visited the new school buildings, which are very handsome. They are larger and better than I visualized. The residence’s main house is particularly good-looking with many good details. The school classroom buildings are woven among the oak trees, scarcely visible from afar, and fulfill the notion of a multiplicity of connected units, which can be added onto, are functional, and don’t look institutional. ‘We walked through Oak Grove and saw that the stable has been moved way back from Besant Road, and then saw the new school vegetable garden made by Carol Andre. Mark asked on behalf of Jackie Kornfeld, who is urging it, whether Krishnaji would speak in New York. I repeated what Parchure had said about his health in Bombay, and Krishnaji let us agree to say no.’ Parchure was saying that he does too much.
: The twelfth Krishnaji and I took a walk to the dip and back. Early to sleep.’
February thirteenth. ‘My cold is better. I made our breakfast and left at 8:30 a.m., Krishnaji remaining in Ojai. I went to town with clothes for the cleaners, and bought a Norelco razor for Krishnaji.’ ‘I also got some detectives for Krishnaji from Winky. Then, drove back to Ojai through rain. But it was 6:20 p.m. and dark when I pulled into the garage. Krishnaji came out with an umbrella, in his bathrobe, and helped me carry the packages. He said they had had an interesting talk at lunch. ‘Michael had left our salad and soup, so we soon had our trays. Washing up in the kitchen, Krishnaji said he had become afraid alone in the house when it became dark. He had locked all the doors and windows. “I don’t know what I was afraid of, but it was gone the moment you were here.”’

I seem to have some protective something because, he told me once that he would not go out at night anymore in the dark, alone. And I asked, “Well, what if I were with you?” “Oh,” he said, “then, of course, I’d go.” I don’t know what it was. He’s not a man who feared things.
He had this thing about being protected. And I somehow felt as though I were an instrument of whatever protected him. It wasn’t me, it was…"they had to have a tool to do it, and I was available". Then, a little later, he stood suddenly still and said his head was bad and gave a cry, “What is happening? Why is it so bad?” I watched lest he faint as he returned to his room. He sat on the bed several times, appearing to start to faint and then coming to, then he was sick several times, vomiting in the bathroom. “Is this going to start again? Why?” At one point, he wanted to go back to the kitchen to finish the dishes and to interrupt what was happening, but was persuaded not to. He was able to do his teeth, wash, etcetera, and then went back to bed, promising to call me if it got worse.’

The fourteenth. ‘Krishnaji’s head was bad all day. He got up for lunch and went for a haircut to Meiners Oaks. I did errands in the village. Krishnaji’s head was too bad for him to get out of bed after the walk; he watched TV looking tired and in pain. He said it hadn’t been this bad in years.’
The next day I have a cold, I felt poorly, and was in all day, and that Krishnaji and I both slept in the afternoon. And really nothing the next day except ‘no walk.’
February seventeenth, ‘Krishnaji’s head has been better though the pain is present in the background. It is quiet when he’s doing something, but rises when he is quiet. I’m feeling better. On Thursday, the cold settled in my sinuses, so yesterday I telephoned Lailee Bakhtiar, who prescribed tetracycline, and it is working. Sinus pain disappeared immediately, and the heavy cold is getting better instead of worse. In the morning, Krishnaji, full of energy, suggested starting a new series in his Letters to the Schools. So, he went to it, dictating to me number twenty-five, which will be dated and sent out on next September first  He completed the first twenty-four, a year’s supply, at Brockwood before we left for India in October. New teachers and the Hookers were at lunch at Arya Vihara. We rested in the afternoon, then Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and I walked down McAndrew Road and back. Krishnaji said to me, “We should see more of them and gossip together.”’ ‘So, we wound up taking the pot of soup Michael delivers to us every evening over to the Lilliefelt’s and had a pleasant supper there. We got on to the subject of the Theosophical Society, the Esoteric Section, what the young Krishnaji thought, Masters or not, etcetera. Krishnaji said of his memory that he chiefly didn’t remember things about himself. He did remember, and corrected Erna, on where people were living in the TS headquarters. He said that "that wasn’t about himself". He repeated the vague memory he described in India of standing as a boy by the Adyar River utterly empty, and “having a good time.” I asked if he could remember directly Dr. Besant, and he said he could a little, but only in her latter years.’
The eighteenth. ‘Krishnaji dictated number twenty-six of the Letters to the Schools. In the middle of it, the doorbell rang and there was the Russian physics teacher named Alexander Ladizensky, whom Vanda brought to the Rome airport to meet Krishnaji as we were in transit to Delhi in October. He got an exit permit to immigrate to Israel but wanted to come to where Krishnaji is. ‘He sat next to Krishnaji at lunch and Krishnaji questioned him about Russia. Fritz, afterward, took him to find lodging, and introduce him to other Russian émigrés, and tomorrow, perhaps, Max can give him temporary work on the school buildings as he seems to do with all comers. Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and I walked down Thacher Road and around the block. In the evening we watched  Roots: The Later Generations.’
February twentieth. ‘It rained. Krishnaji dictated another Letters to the Schools. Elfriede came to clean. Mr. G.N. Dalal of Bombay came from Los Angeles by Greyhound bus, and I met him at Ventura. The bus was late, and we got to the cottage by 6:40 p.m. Krishnaji, worried, was waiting outside with Mark. Dalal is staying in the guest apartment. He gave Krishnaji a donation for the Foundation for $5,000. All, including Krishnaji, had supper at Arya Vihara.’
February twenty-first. ‘Mr. Dalal had breakfast with the Lilliefelts and spent the day being shown everything, then lunched with Krishnaji and others at Arya Vihara, and walked with Krishnaji.
The twenty-second. ‘ Professor Ravi Ravindra and his Canadian wife Sally, who seventeen years ago taught at Rajghat, arrived and are staying at the Lilliefelt’s. They were shown around the school in the morning, and we all lunched at Arya Vihara. There was a discussion at the lunch table on "what is knowing", which was taped by Fritz. At 5 p.m., after a rest, Krishnaji and I, the Ravindras, and the Lilliefelts walked around the block. The Ravindras leave tomorrow morning and return to Halifax, where he teaches and they live with two children. Krishnaji likes Ravi.’

The twenty-fourth. ‘Krishnaji dictated Letters to the Schools number twenty-nine. I did desk work in the afternoon. Spoke to Naudé. We walked with the Lilliefelts.’
February twenty-fifth. ‘Krishnaji lunched with the Lilliefelts and then spent the afternoon looking at the school buildings and walking over the land there. I left after breakfast in the green Mercedes for Malibu and the Dunnes’. Spent a happy morning sitting and talking and having lunch in the familiar Dunne way, on trays on the terrace. We had 'sautéed' cheese sandwiches, which Amanda said I taught her to make on Kearsarge Street.’

February twenty-sixth. ‘The last total eclipse of the sun in this century was around 8 this morning. The garden was in a strange twilight. From the kitchen window I saw Krishnaji in bare feet and only in his nightshirt out on the path. “I wanted to see the eclipse,” he said.’ ‘I rushed him into warmth and a denatured but closer view on television.’ ‘In the morning, he spoke alone with Jackie and Sarjit Siddoo. Elfriede cleaned. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji, the Siddoos, the Lilliefelts, Mark, Fritz, and I discussed the problems of Canada and the Wolf Lake School. It is costing them $9,000 a month of their own funds just as it is, with only twelve students. Unless they spend millions on more land and building, it cannot expand on the present site. Exactly what I foresaw’ - how annoying such foresight is—‘ happened.’ They had no idea what a school entailed.’  ‘Krishnaji, in summing up the situation, said he is not urging them to do anything, but his descriptions of, “If you are serious, you will ask what is right, not the cost,” makes an overwhelming pressure.’ ‘He was impatient when I pointed that out. He denies that it’s pressure. Then, he gave the example of his telling Narayan to be willing to give up his whole life to Rishi Valley “or, never mind; die, starve, it doesn’t matter what.”’ ‘The Siddoos say they can afford to carry on for two more years, but if they fold, they will be impoverished
February twenty-eighth. ‘In the afternoon, Krishnaji talked to a Mr. and Mrs. Farkas, parents in Oak Grove. Mr. Farkas wants to return to Hungary to spread Krishnaji’s teachings, a perilous venture. At 4:30 p.m., Krishnaji, the Siddoos, the Lilliefelts, Mark, and I talked again about Canadian school matters. The Siddoos want to go ahead. In the evening, we watched the television: As You Like It by the Royal Shakespeare Company.’

March first says, ‘Desk, etcetera. The Siddoos leave. I went to the village, then walked with Krishnaji and the Lilliefelts. The weather is cold. Krishnaji and I watched a film of an Indian leopard. It rained in the morning.’
March second. ‘I drove Krishnaji, Erna, and Theo in the green Mercedes. It was a lovely day. The bright sun of California. The landscape is very green. We went the inland way, and Krishnaji was pleased with the fullness of Lake Casitas.’ ‘This was my first touring of Santa Barbara since we moved. We lunched in a small restaurant called The Tea Room, sitting under an arbor. Krishnaji had a large enchilada, salad, and cheesecake. We wandered through El Paseo and bought books, then health foods, and drove back to Ojai, where we went for a short walk.
.
March eighth. ‘At 10:30 a.m., there was a KFA trustee meeting. Krishnaji stayed in bed as it was all on finances. All were present except Alan Kishbaugh. Alan Hooker was considered as a trustee, but his proclivity for giving talks on Krishnaji’s teachings, which have been said to be 'tinged with interpretation', put it off. We continued after lunch. Professor Ravi Ravindra arrived from Halifax. Krishnaji had asked him to come back and wants to talk to him about being involved in the work in some way. Krishnaji hasn’t said what he has in mind, and throws it back to the Lilliefelts and me: What do we think Ravindra could do? We reply that it is his idea, etcetera. Krishnaji talked to Ravindra alone.
March ninth. ‘Krishnaji, Ravindra, and I had breakfast in the kitchen. Then, Krishnaji and he talked in the living room. I lit the fireplace in the living room for the first time since we have lived here. When Krishnaji came in and saw it, his face lit up with the look of surprise and delight that is my delight to see. Around 11 a.m., he called me and the Lilliefelts to join the conversation, and while we talked, he stood thumbing Mary L.’s biography in his loose, long towel robe’ ‘with another familiar look of an abstracted child—far off—his face rounded as that of a child.’ His face would change in so many ways.

March tenth. ‘Ravi breakfasted here. I do not think he is interested enough to change his life and join us. There was another K-teacher-parent-etcetera discussion at 11:30 a.m. Ravindra left after lunch for England, but agreed to Krishnaji’s suggestion that he might become a trustee of the Canadian Krishnamurti Foundation. This will come as a surprise to the Siddoos.’ ‘Ravi said he would “help,” finding scientists to discuss with Krishnaji, perhaps raise money. He will visit Brockwood on his present trip to England, and will speak to David Bohm, who he knows slightly and is associated with on some “threshold committee.” Krishnaji said, “We don’t want to lose you.”
’

March thirteen. ‘Without breakfast, Krishnaji and I drove to Lailee’s office for a 10:30 a.m. fasting blood, etcetera, test.’ It was our annual checkup. Krishnaji’s blood pressure must’ve been low, for Lailee had to do another vein to get enough blood. Krishnaji has a slight earache, and she gave a prescription for an antibiotic and some ear drops. Later, when I asked Krishnaji on the way home how his ear felt, he said, “Better. I think the antibiotic prescription scared it.”’ We hadn’t filled the prescription yet. ‘After the blood giving, we had the prescribed breakfast at Lindberg’s, acceptably quiet and clean for Krishnaji. We spent the required two-hour interval shopping before giving the second post-meal blood samples. Then to Bullock’s in Westwood for jeans and socks for Krishnaji. I found his size nine-and-a-half in the boys’ department.’ He liked shopping at Bullock’s. ‘It was raining outside, and the store was not crowded. We returned to Ojai, Krishnaji driving from Zuma Beach to the usual place, looking pleased and at home at the wheel. He insisted on stopping at Dieter’s for a Valvoline fluid that prevents rattle when added to the fuel and, in spite of a long day and driving, he said he wasn’t tired. The outing may have diverted him. He, of course, hadn’t seen the Malibu changes Max made last summer and he thought it looked rather nice.

March fourteenth. ‘ I took Krishnaji to the Oak Grove School where he talked with the children, and while he was doing that, I fetched Mar de Manziarly to the house. She is staying with her sister for a month. . Then, Erna and Theo took me to a benefit movie in Ojai of Ingmar Bergman’s 'Autumn Sonata' with Ingrid Bergman and Liv Ullmann. Krishnaji was asleep when I got back.
March fifteenth. I took Krishnaji to the school Pavilion, where he talked again with the children, and it was photographed by Michael Mendizza for use in the film. I came back and found Philippa had arrived. We sat by the fire and talked till Krishnaji returned, and we all lunched at Arya Vihara. An editor of a Santa Barbara magazine, Jerry Dunn, was at lunch and afterward interviewed Krishnaji about schools, etcetera for his publication. We hope to make Oak Grove better known and possibly get more local students. A photo for the magazine was taken. Meanwhile, Philippa and I sat in the kitchen, had coffee, and talked till she left at 3:30 p.m. Krishnaji went to bed and read. I did letters and played records. Sunanda’s notes of the January eighteenth conversation between Krishnaji and Dick Clarke arrived.’

March sixteenth. Dr. Rahula, and Professor and Mrs. Jacques Maquet, head of anthropology at UCLA, came and lunched with us at Arya Vihara. Then, Krishnaji talked alone with Rahula; and then, Krishnaji, Rahula, and Maquet had a discussion, which Ted taped. Erna, Theo, Fritz, Mark, and I sat in on it. Rain, so no walk.’

The next day At 2:30 p.m. we went to Lailee’s office, where we got the reports on our annual checkups. Krishnaji had a hearing test and is quite deaf in the high registers. His blood pressure was 130/80, cholesterol 190, uric acid 7’—was 10 last year, it says—‘blood sugar 90 fasting and one day after food. So, all is good. The boils he had in India were not diabetic. His blood count was fine. EKG fine. The only question is his stomachache, which occurs from time to time. When he showed Lailee where it hurts, she said it was the gall bladder place, and suggested an upper GI X-ray, but he pooh-poohed it and said the barium swallowing would make him sick.’ Well, it was, obviously, as we know from hindsight, gall bladder. ‘We were finished by 4 p.m., but Krishnaji wanted to go back to Bullock’s for more jeans, which he did and also got him another track suit to wear while doing his morning exercises. We drove back to Ojai along the beach road, Krishnaji driving his usual stretch. Today has been a strenuous one, but he said he wasn’t a bit tired. I feel blessed by this.’

For the next day Saral and David Bohm arrived from England, and are in the guest house.’
Then really nothing until the twenty-fourth. ‘At 11:30 a.m., there was the start of a discussion with Krishnaji: David and a group from San Francisco selected by Fritz from the class he gave at JFK University. On the walk with Krishnaji was Alan Kishbaugh, Erna, Theo, and me.’ ‘The second day of discussion. Krishnaji thinks the discussion group is ''unintelligent''.’

The next day, ‘The rain stopped. There was the sixth group discussion in the morning. Krishnaji was very moving at the end. In the afternoon, there was a trustee meeting with Krishnaji present part of the time. At 4 p.m., Dr. Lailia Gramm, one in the morning discussion group, joined us to discuss putting together an educational conference in April of 1980. Krishnaji watched an old Danny Kaye movie in the evening. I telephoned Brockwood and spoke to Doris—Dorothy is in Wales—to say that Krishnaji and I postponed our arrival there till May fifteenth.’
April second. ‘A quiet day. Renée Weber had lunch with us. She’s staying at Arya Vihara. I walked with Krishnaji, Erna, and Theo. Watched the Bill Moyers program on TV.’
April seventh, ‘The morning was cloudy and cool, but there was no rain. So, at 11:30 a.m., for the first time in two years, Krishnaji was able to speak in his Oak Grove. The first talk was today, and it was very moving. He looked extraordinarily beautiful. As always, he asked me what he should wear, and I urged his heavy mustard-colored Huntsman corduroys, with a green Indian shirt and taupe cardigan—all exceedingly "becoming".’ ‘Age vanishes; his face is unlined and shines. He began his talk differently, speaking of goodness, what it is not, why man doesn’t have it; how no system, belief, etcetera will bring it about; how only in understanding oneself can a different dimension come about and man can go beyond it. He spoke quietly, with that depth of voice that usually comes for the deepest meditation of his talks, but today it was there from the start. A large audience, in spite of the gas shortage, listened intently. I sat on the ground where I must’ve sat years ago when I first heard him speak there. His presence, his voice, the atmosphere of the Grove make me feel my life had begun there all those years ago. Is it thirty-five? Now, I live here with him, with all that is beyond describing. I cannot say how it came about. It happened. I did not imagine it, seek it. It happened, and I have been blessed beyond all other life. On the way back in the car, he said, “I was so filled with that, that I was trembling.” And coming back through the village, he said, “Drive slowly. I want to faint.” He bent slowly forward, but didn’t quite faint, and was alright when he reached the house. I had cooked early the first lunch since we returned from India. It was pleasant to be cooking again, and it is part of the intimacy of home.
April eighth. ‘It was a clear, beautiful day, and it was beautiful in the Oak Grove where Krishnaji gave his second talk. He stopped neatly after an hour, and we were the first car to leave. We came back on the winding, quieter road, and Krishnaji said, “The minute I stop talking, my head begins.” He looked close to fainting in the car but didn’t. I had made lunch earlier and Erna, Theo, and Alan Kishbaugh ate wit

April eighth. ‘It was a clear, beautiful day, and it was beautiful in the Oak Grove where Krishnaji gave his second talk. He stopped neatly after an hour, and we were the first car to leave. We came back on the winding, quieter road, and Krishnaji said, “The minute I stop talking, my head begins.” He looked close to fainting in the car but didn’t. I had made lunch earlier and Erna, Theo, and Alan Kishbaugh ate with us. Both of us were tired in the afternoon but we walked to the Lilliefelt’s and down Grand Avenue. Krishnaji was sick to his stomach; said he ate too much at lunch.

April ninth, ‘A short walk with Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and Alan. I watched part of the Academy Awards on television.’
The tenth, ‘It was windy and clear. Krishnaji held public discussion number one in the Oak Grove. We lunched at Arya Vihara, took naps in the afternoon, and walked with Erna and Theo.’

April twelfth, ‘Krishnaji held the second public discussion in the Oak Grove. Later in the afternoon, we went through the administration building, then the Grove, vegetable garden, etcetera.’April fourteenth. ‘Another warm, beautiful day for Krishnaji’s third talk in the Oak Grove. There was a large crowd. I sat up on the hill and could hear perfectly as if I was only a yard away from him. The beauty of the trees, the fresh grass, the air alive with ripening summer, and something blessed in that grove seemed the surrounding of his voice and words. We drove back slowly as usual. He lay down for a while while I finished cooking our lunch. Afterward, we went for a short walk, helped ourselves to a few of the Lilliefelt’s tangelos, but only ones that had fallen on the ground,’ [chuckles] ‘and came back to supper. Ginny and Bill Travers’ film about the lion that Krishnaji and I had seen at their place at Sussex was on television.’

April fifteenth. ‘It’s Easter Sunday. ‘At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji gave his fourth talk in the Oak Grove on another perfect day. After the talk, Krishnaji seemed close to fainting in the car, swaying, but didn’t actually faint. He lay down while I completed cooking. Erna, Alan K., and Stella Resnick lunched with us, but Theo went off to cope with Lakshmi Shankar, who had arrived somehow at Rajagopal’s’ [chuckles] ‘by mistake. She came with her daughter and son-in-law, and an older man to play tabla and his wife, to greet Krishnaji briefly. They touched his feet, and we all sat for a short while before Mark took them to Evelyne’s cottage to change and freshen up. I had barely time to load the dishwasher before Krishnaji and I drove to the Pavilion, and at 4 p.m., Lakshmi sang most beautifully for Krishnaji and the audience, who paid $20 for tickets inside, and $10 on the porch, as donations to the school. Refreshments were served under the trees, and Krishnaji stayed until Lakshmi Shankar left. She seems a nice woman. She had picked slokas and bhajans that she knew Krishnaji would like. To my surprise, she and her daughter kissed me goodbye, most un-Indian, but friendly. Krishnaji watered the patio plants on our return while I fixed supper.’

April sixteenth, 1979. ‘The Bohms are here. In the afternoon, the Brockwood people who are here for the talks came for tea, and I brought them over to see the cottage.
The seventeenth. ‘Krishnaji gave the third public talk in the Oak Grove. Michael Mendizza filmed parts of it and had David Moody ask (for the film), “What is the relation between love and freedom?” To this Krishnaji added, “Responsibility.” Walking out after the talk, Krishnaji passed Austin Bee, who was standing behind the cassette stand. Krishnaji stopped and asked, “Who are you, sir?” Bee gave his name, and Krishnaji shook hands with him.’ Austin Bee was assistant and secretary of Rajagopal and ran the K & R office, and was consistently rude to Krishnaji the few times I ever met him. . When I reached the car, a figure was standing there in the shade behind it. At first glance, I didn’t see who it was, but then as I was opening the car door, I saw it was Rajagopal, rather shrunken, face more wizened and monkey-like.’ He stared at me and I said, “How do you do, Rajagopal,” but didn’t go to him. Krishnaji was approaching and I introduced to him, before he reached the car, a Frenchman who was waiting to salute him. Krishnaji then went toward his side of the car, saw Rajagopal, but didn’t recognize him, either. He asked, “Who are you?”’
‘“I’m Rajagopal.” He gave Krishnaji a package and said, “This is for you.” Krishnaji took his hand and held it, and then Rajagopal said he must go, people were watching. He walked up the road and Krishnaji stood looking shocked and distrai  as he sometimes does after a talk. He had sent word to Blackburn to speak to him after the talk, but now he told Blackburn to meet him at the cottage.’ He was very often disoriented after a talk, somehow.
I wanted to keep people away from him. But he would chide me when I did that.
. ‘He got in the car and urged me to drive away quickly. He looked at his hand, which had a scent that Rajagopal uses, and it disgusted Krishnaji. He said, “What is the matter with my hand? It is unclean. It is not my hand.” He held it out the window and said several times, “It is not my hand. It has touched something unclean. That man is evil.” He held it without touching anything, as he did in Bombay after the mob had soiled his hands
. ‘The Blackburns were waiting when we got there, but he told them to wait outside. We went into the kitchen, I turned on the tap in the laundry and he washed the hand thoroughly before going out to tell Blackburn that whatever Blackburn is saying—he has now become a sort of guru and she does “healing”—that it has nothing to do with what Krishnaji is doing. We had lunch at Arya Vihara with Erna, Theo, Alan K., and Michael. After lunch, Krishnaji dictated a letter to Rajagopal suggesting they talk things over. The package turned out to be a quartz wristwatch. Krishnaji said, “He knows I don’t ever wear a wristwatch. I will give it to Narayan.” He felt clean again after the washing. Later we took a walk.
April twenty-first, ‘Krishnaji says I still move my hands and mouth unnecessarily, and is determined to help me stop it.’ ‘He now sits opposite me on the floor and I’m absolutely still for some minutes. He says Brahmin boys used to be taught this.’ ‘I find it very easy. At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji gave his fifth Ojai talk in the Oak Grove after which we had lunch alone at home. Krishnaji napped briefly. At 4 p.m., I went with Krishnaji to the formal dedication of the Oak Grove School buildings. We went through the main house with Mark and the architects, Ron Gammel, etcetera. It looked very nice. Then, with a large crowd looking on and helping, Krishnaji planted a sizable fig tree, the kind that becomes enormous, ficus macrophylla .Next, with the architect Zelma Wilson joined by Max, we went through the school classroom building, also very good-looking.’ She designed that one. ‘Krishnaji wanted to designate where a wooden fence should go around the Oak Grove itself. So, we walked over there and he will make a statement for posterity that this part of the land must not be built upon or used for purposes other than quiet, serious ones, etcetera. We came back and showed Gammel and colleagues the cottage.’
April twenty-second. ‘Krishnaji gave his sixth talk in the Oak Grove, completing this year’s series, a very beautiful talk. Mrs. Vigeveno was standing behind the car when I came out. I went up to her and asked her how she was. She said she wanted to greet Krishnaji. She did so and gave him a note from Rajagopal, which said that he, Rajagopal, knew of nothing that needed to be settled between them, but that he wanted to see Krishnaji, “once more.” Krishnaji and I had lunch alone, and he rested. Krishnaji is uneasy about Fritz for he has no contact with him, and fears that this is all 'intellectual' with him. He seems serious about the teachings but with no passion in it. Krishnaji suggests Margrete has lessened the spirit for the teachings that Fritz seemed to have when he joined us. Later Krishnaji and I watered all the plants.’
The twenty-fourth. ‘Krishnaji dictated letters, including one to Rajagopal in which he said that he was sorry that Rajagopal had again closed the door between them, that Krishnaji had wanted to talk over, among other matters, the archives, which were his and not Rajagopal’s. He said the door was always open, “wherever I am.” Balasundaram, who arrived for the last two talks and is staying with Colonel Noyes, had been invited to lunch at Arya Vihara. He arrived here at 11 a.m., so I had to spend a much-needed-for-other-things hour talking to him before Krishnaji appeared and we went to lunch at Arya Vihara at noon.’  The next day just says, ‘I worked at the desk all day. Krishnaji mostly rested, but talked again to Fritz in the afternoon. We walked to the dip.

The twenty-sixth of April. ‘Krishnaji helped me clean the living room, he with the wide broom and I with a vacuum.’ He liked to push those big brooms. ‘Earlier, I had washed the floors of the kitchen and hall. During lunch, Rajagopal telephoned me to ask what Krishnaji was doing during the next days. When was he leaving? I told him that Krishnaji was leaving on the fifteenth. Rajagopal said, “I hope I will see you,” and hung up. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji held a discussion mostly with David Bohm, but trustees and the Oak Grove School staff were present and some joined in. “Is separateness caused by desire?” was the question.’
April twenty-seventh. I picked up our tickets for London for May fifteenth. Krishnaji had his hair cut at Meiners Oaks.’
The next day, ‘Again, I spent much of the day doing desk work. Alasdair planted four more tall ceanothus and cut the hedge by the garage. At 4 p.m., there was a meeting with Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, Alan, Ruth, and me, plus Mark, Fritz, and Margrete, about the uses of Arya Vihara, which it was decided should now be called the Old House.’ We kept trying to call it that, but nobody did it. ‘We discussed the activity there, who lives there, etcetera. Fritz and Margrete are going to move upstairs when Mark moves to Oak Grove.’‘Michael remains where he is. The west room will be for the library where Krishnaji’s books will be available for visitors, the east room will be for tape listening, and the middle room will be a quiet room. There was talk of a need for a certain atmosphere. Also, it was raised by Krishnaji that we should decide whether visitors or teachers can share rooms with unmarried partners.’ ‘And it was decided that they could not.’
‘Then it was decided that only permanent residents, i.e., Fritz, Margrete, and Michael, live there, except for times when Krishnaji’s talks are on and we have visitors from other Krishnamurti Foundations. Fritz and Margrete agreed to all this but perhaps too readily. Later Krishnaji was full of doubts about them. He doesn’t think Fritz 'understands' the teachings; that it is all intellectual.’

The twenty-ninth. ‘Krishnaji asked Erna and Theo over after breakfast to speak of the Fritz business. He feels strongly that it is not going to work out, that Fritz hasn’t a feeling for all this, has no communication with him, and that it is all talk. We questioned the whole adult center activity. Erna and I feel that we should let Fritz and Margrete have more of a try. David Bohm told Krishnaji in confidence that Fritz is quite upset, and though Fritz didn’t say so, Dave feels they want to leave. We told this to Erna and Theo at 3:30 p.m. so that we could consider what to do with the Old House if they do leave. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji held a discussion with Dave, the rest of us, and Oak Grove School teachers. A continuation of Thursday’s meeting. “Is thought based on desire? Is there an action not based on this?”

The first of May. ‘Each morning, Krishnaji sits quietly opposite of me on the floor to teach me to be still, not move my hands, face, etcetera, unnecessarily. Then, he does a vigorous massage of neck and back to help circulation in my leg and keep away headaches. Sometimes he jokes when I thank him, “I must help my benefactress.” ‘This morning, he said, “I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t like you. Remember that.” Pause, then, “Well, I guess I would, but you know what I mean.”’ ‘4 p.m., Krishnaji and I joined them by the school where Krishnaji was photographed walking, also in the Oak Grove. He is quite bored with this filming and luckily this was the final chore in it for him. It took almost two hours. But earlier after lunch, Michael Mendizza had shown us a few clips of the film, which made me feel it may turn out well. I said I would like to see the text of the narration when it is done and also the film itself before it is final. This could be on my return in November. They agree. A note from Rajagopal came for Krishnaji with a clipping of a sentimental poem on friendship and two lines underneath saying this is what he would feel all his life, and even afterward. Krishnaji was so disgusted he barely glanced at it. ‘Balasundaram came and talked to Krishnaji for an hour yesterday. He had seen Rajagopal, and said that he had urged him to return the archives and be friendly before he dies. He said Rajagopal refused to discuss the archives, and was keeping things to defend himself, “in case they attack me,” and said, “They are hoping for my demise.” Balasundaram himself headed off Krishnaji’s asking him to return the Rishi Valley tapes he had made off with when he left Rishi Valley by weeping and saying that Krishnaji and his teachings meant everything to him.

May third. ‘Krishnaji talked with Fritz at 10:30 a.m. Then, Krishnaji, Fritz, Margrete, Mark, Erna, Theo, and I talked anew about the adult center and the use of the Old House. It was a different atmosphere and a more constructive talk. Krishnaji “really worked,” he said, at getting through to Fritz, and things seemed better.

May fourth. ‘In the British election, Margaret Thatcher becomes prime minister. Krishnaji cannot watch her on TV. “That awful bourgeois woman''. He now has two bête noire in England, Thatcher and the Queen.”’ ‘At 11 a.m., Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and I went in the green Mercedes to Santa Barbara where at the IRS office, in less than five minutes, we got Krishnaji’s tax clearance, which he needs as a resident each time he leaves the county.’ Well, he had no income, no nothing, so it was easy. Then, we lunched at The Tea House, after which we drove pleasantly back along the beach and then through the mountains, which pleased Krishnaji. Lake Casitas was beautiful. At lunch, Krishnaji asked what each would do if we had a lot of money; “something extravagant” he was asking for. None of us could come up with a sufficiently frivolous answer.’ ‘Good works were out, taken for granted. But after them, what? Krishnaji, laughing, said, “I’d probably keep getting the newest Mercedes, not going anywhere, just washing it every week.”’ ‘I thought I might keep Rajagopal tied up in law courts until he handed over everything to Krishnaji and did penance.’ ‘We queued up for gas in Ojai with about ten other cars ahead of us. The shortage is beginning to tie up California. Balasundaram telephoned to say goodbye and to tell us that Rajagopal had rung him six times last night wanting to see Balasundaram again and asking if we had sent him as an emissary. ‘We watched the Kentucky Darby on television… ‘It was won by Spectacular Bid
The next day, ‘Krishnaji dictated letters, including a reply to Rajagopal’s sending him a corny clipping on friendship. Alain rang in the afternoon, saying he had to turn back to San Francisco for lack of gas.’

May tenth, ‘ Krishnaji received a letter from Rajagopal and had me telephone him to review his accusations that when KF India had published the collective works, it was “in complete violation of the letter and the spirit of the settlement.” Also, he affirmed his statement that he had not removed anything from the archives. What ensued was an interminable, impossible conversation. I tried to make the points that the KF India had not published any collected works. The only collected works I knew of in India were by Chetana.’ I had met the head of Chetena in Bombay and asked him if he were publishing without Rajagopal’s permission and he said he hadn’t “up to a point.” Rajagopal didn’t pursue this and said, “Never mind about it.” I then spoke of his denial of removing archives material, and asked if that meant he was restoring the missing material?’
‘Rajagopal: “All the letters that you and others have been claiming do not belong to the archives. Everything that belongs in the archives are there.”’ That means he had them at his house. ‘He said the archives were not defined. I said, on the contrary, they were spelled out in the legal agreement, etcetera. He denied that the letters, Krishnaji’s manuscript, and materials sent by Jinarajadasa for Krishnaji belong to the archives. He said if there is anything specific Krishnaji wants to see, he should list things specifically, and then he would make a copy’—meaning he, Rajagopal will be glad to make a copy, but he must know exactly what it is, and it still may not be there. Rajagopal said, “I don’t claim anything is mine, but everything which has been sent for the archives is already in the archives.” I asked if he once said original manuscripts had been destroyed by him. He replied, “I said ‘may have.’” He said, “If they are gone, I have not got them. I can’t produce them. For the last fifty years I have been doing this work. What is the reason you question me now?” I said he was not giving sensible answers, and asked if he had the manuscripts, was he willing for Krishnaji to look at them?’
‘Rajagopal: “He can see anything he wants to in my house.” He said there were only typewritten manuscripts, not in Krishnaji’s handwriting.’
‘I asked what happened to the original; they are the most valuable and precious part of any archive material.’
‘Rajagopal: “He can see whatever there is, but he must ask exactly what manuscripts, not generally this or that. He must be specific. Whatever is not there cannot be produced. If you don’t believe me, I am sorry.”’
‘I asked again about Pupul’s statement. And he said, “Why should you accept her statement? She may have forgotten. Anyway, nothing can be done about it. I can’t produce them, and if you don’t believe it and he doesn’t believe what I am telling you, it is too bad. I do not wish to talk to him indirectly. There is no point in talking. For ten years, I’ve been trying to talk to him, not in connection with these things. I have been treated as someone who has done something wrong. I am not coming to him as a penitent. I am talking of that. It is not possible to divorce the work I am doing, to live completely isolated. There are things which are of concern to both of us.”’
‘I said, “We are all trying to find some way so that things can be sorted out in a friendly, amicable way and establish an amicable relationship between us.”’
The next day, Rajagopal telephoned me to acknowledge that Krishnaji’s letter came to him.’
May twelfth is ‘Krishnaji’s eighty-fourth birthday, though, as always, he waved away any mention of it. It was a very hot day, but the adobe walls keep that wing cool and comfortable. I did desk work all day, including writing a letter to Rajagopal, putting on paper what I had said variously in Thursday’s telephone conversation.’
The next day, ‘Krishnaji washed the gray Mercedes before Dieter came to put both cars up on blocks for the summer.

May sixteenth and seventeenth as we were crossing time zones. ‘at 1:30 p.m., Krishnaji, Mark, and I left in the school van. We went the inland way as the Pacific Coast Highway is closed again by the Big Rock slide. We got to LAX by 4 p.m., and checked in. I sat with the hand luggage, while Krishnaji and Mark stood looking at the aircraft.’ Krishnaji used to wander around in airports, and I was afraid to leave the hand luggage in case it’d be stolen. And he would go off, and I was afraid I’d lose him, or something.
It was very frustrating. ‘Krishnaji and Mark stood looking at the aircraft, a 747, and Krishnaji noticed a crack near one of the doors. Pretty soon some ground crew noticed it too, and instead of boarding and taking off at 5:30 p.m., we sat till 9 p.m., and left in a substitute plane, which stopped to refuel in New York at 5 a.m. where Krishnaji and I walked around for exercise for forty-five minutes. So, we landed at Heathrow at 6 p.m., a relatively quiet time there. So, a porter and luggage were quickly had. Dorothy, in her Cortina, took Krishnaji and me, and Ingrid and Stephen took the luggage. It was 9 p.m. when we reached Brockwood, but still light. The students and staff were on the driveway to greet Krishnaji. He and I had supper quickly, alone in our little kitchen. “How quiet it is,” said Krishnaji. How green Brockwood is—the spring has been cold and late, so the leaves on the beech trees are just beginning. I went straight to bed and deeply to sleep.’
May seventeenth, ‘I woke up a little after 4 a.m., and felt like getting up, so I unpacked, bathed, dressed, and all was in order before getting breakfast. A satisfaction. Krishnaji slept most of the morning, but got up for lunch. Narayan,Venkatraman, and Mrs. Premilla Rajan were here from Rishi Valley. Dr. Parchure arrived from Bombay in the evening. I talked to Mary Links; she and Joe are just back from Venice.’
The eighteenth: ‘In the morning, I talked in the kitchen to Dr. Parchure at length ‘Krishnaji, Dorothy, and the dogs and I walked across the fields. I feel again the wordless love for and beauty of this land. Went to the staff meeting at 5 p.m., and eased into Brockwood life as if it were an uninterrupted thread from Ojai, which, of course, it is.’

The nineteenth. ‘I did desk work. There was a long discussion at lunch about the purposes of the schools. We walked.’
May twentieth.‘Krishnaji talked to the school. At 6:30 p.m., the students put on Anouilh’s Antigone in the Assembly Hall. Daphne Maroger played Antigone. Krishnaji attended and stayed for all of it; he thought they were very good. There was a “Greek” supper afterward. The whole school seemed happy and united.’

May twenty-first. ‘Krishnaji slept poorly. We’re changing his supper menu from soup to a cooked vegetable. Krishnaji saw Shankar Ramachandran, a student, after lunch. We walked a little. There was a school meeting.’
The next day. ‘I went to Winchester on errands, and Krishnaji spoke to students. We walked in the afternoon, then I telephoned Vanda.’
May twenty-third was ‘a quiet day. I worked at my desk and walked in the afternoon with Krishnaji. The car was given a new battery and put in running order. I telephoned Filomena in Rome.’
May twenty-fourth. ‘We took the 10:20 a.m. train to London. Mary and Joe met us at Waterloo and drove Krishnaji to Huntsman. I went to the bank and then met Krishnaji at Truefitt where he had his hair cut. Then we walked to Fortnum’s where Mary joined us for lunch. She told Krishnaji she will do the second volume of his biography. She has just finished a book about her grandfather, Edward Robert Lytton Bulwer-Lytton, 1st Earl of Lytton and Viceroy of India, and will next do one on her father, the famous architect, Sir Edward Lutyens, and then do Krishnaji’s. She says she’s figured out a way to do it without a whitewash of the troubles with Rajagopal. It will be on the teachings and much less personal material than the earlier one. Krishnaji was very pleased, and I feel a huge sense of something good happening. I feared she didn’t want to take on the second volume. I have a deep sense of good in her making the decision to do it.

May thirty-first. ‘Krishnaji, Narayan, and I took the 10:23 a.m. train to London. We later took a taxi to Mary and Joe’s, and lunched with them at their flat. Krishnaji talked a bit to Mary about the biography, especially the question of what gives him his "insight". Is it the Maitreya theory, Krishnaji’s own development, or is there some other thing manifesting? Krishnaji says he doesn’t know. He has feelings that he shouldn’t ask, but perhaps in going into it with Mary and me, we can find an answer.’ That’s when he made that curious statement. ‘Mary is eager to talk to him on these matters, and will come down to Brockwood Monday.
June first. ‘Krishnaji is laughing at the TIMEmagazine saying that some calls Mrs. Thatcher “Attila the Hen.”’ Radha Burnier arrived just in time to attend a staff meeting with Krishnaji, a discussion of what is 'opinion'.’ On my way back, Krishnaji intently quizzed us on “What has man done in these thousands of years? ‘Developed outwardly but not inwardly

June third, ‘The Marogers, Jean-Michel, Marie-Bertrande, Diane, and cousin Pauline de Grémont arrived.’ ‘Krishnaji spoke to the whole school at noon. In the afternoon, he treated Diane, and then had a long talk with Jean-Michel, Marie-Bertrande, and me about Diane. Her bones are getting stronger, but she has not grown in length. She is now twelve-and-a-half and her classmates in school are shooting up. Her parents are obviously very concerned. Krishnaji was very intense. He said, “I would give my life to her if I could.” I had been silently thinking the same. Krishnaji talked at first as if he were telling the parents what Diane faces, something they live with every day, worry over, and have faced all these years. He told them about Isabelle Mallet, who was disabled and fell in love with him, and asked to be loved, etcetera. This is when he was young. He said, “I was too young to understand what she really wanted. I liked her, went to see her every day, but was too innocent to understand.”
June fourth, ‘Mary Links and Amanda came at 11 a.m. We sat in Krishnaji’s room and he talked about the biography. What had kept him “vacant” as a boy? Either some power that wished to manifest—like the Maitreya theory. Or was there an innate something in the boy, an evolution through incarnations, which Krishnaji said is superstition. Or was there a power of goodness, which entered the boy. “I’ve always felt protected,” he said. And then, “If I enter an airplane, it will not fall.” But he kept asking and asking the question of how was the boy vacant and what kept him that way? We stopped while he dressed, and Mary and I talked alone in the drawing room. Then, after lunch we resumed with Krishnaji continuing the same inquiry. I took partial notes. Toward the end of the discussion, he said that perhaps he could not answer the question, but perhaps Mary or I could, and if we did, then he would know if it was right.’‘He said the Maitreya or 'reincarnated body' prepared over a number of lives theories were “suspect.” It would mean that it was restricted to him, and the teachings say that all can achieve it or “It is not worth it otherwise.” At 4 p.m., he saw Diane. Then the walk was with Narayan, Dorothy, and me. He is concerned that Narayan might become authoritarian and set in his ways, as others have before him.’

June seventh, ‘Krishnaji and I went to London on the 10:23 a.m. train. Joe Links, once again, kindly met Krishnaji and drove us to Huntsman. We shopped for a present for Vanda, and found a beige jersey at Peal’s. We bought some books at Hatchards and then lunched with Mary and Alain Naudé, who arrived from San Francisco yesterday. He is going on after a week to see Vanda in Florence, then to Zurich to see Dr. Künzl?, who was an orthopedic whiz, about a homeopathy book translation.’ ‘A pleasant, talkative lunch, but Krishnaji feels he has lost touch with Alain. “He has left us.” I think he means the teachings, as well as us, though on the surface we are friendly and have much to laugh and chat about.

June tenth.‘Krishnaji talked to the school. Balasundaram arrived in the afternoon to spend three days. He and Narayan have not met or spoken in some years, not since Narayan took over the principal-ship from Balasundaram at Rishi Valley. Probably it is good for them to be thrown together here. Krishnaji saw Diane and asked the Marogers to stay on another three days. He told me that when he treats her, the room becomes filled with something. We walked. I moved the Marogers up to the West Wing dining room, as Radha is still in the guest room.’

The fourteenth. ‘Sarjit Siddoo, her husband, and her child are here. Balasundaram left. I took Radha Burnier to the Petersfield train station in the afternoon. Krishnaji talked to Sarjit Siddoo’s husband. It rains and then it rains.’
June fifteenth. ‘It is a cold day. I spent most of it doing desk work. Krishnaji talked to the student, Shankar, after lunch. We had a short walk, then he talked to the staff at 5 p.m.’
The next day, ‘There is some sun. I typed Letters to the Schools. Krishnaji talked to Shankar again in the morning, and the staff had a meeting with Shankar in afternoon. He has decided to go to a U.S. university. Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I walked across the fields. Betsy telephoned. She has made an offer on a flat.’
June nineteenth. ‘A warm day, the first one here. Krishnaji spoke alone with the students at noon, while I went to a staff meeting. Krishnaji saw Denise Sullivan after lunch and later, he, Dorothy, and I pruned rhododendron blossoms in the grove, but Krishnaji began to feel hay fever and returned to the house.

June twenty-fifth, ‘I met Mary Links at the Petersfield station. We talked with Krishnaji before and after lunch on things for the second volume of the biography. I made notes as I did last time.’ I would make notes of these discussions and then send them off to Mary.
June twenty-eighth. ‘Krishnaji held two videotaped discussions with Dr. Rahula, Phiroz Mehta & Narayan, the first was in the morning and again in the afternoon.’
July first. ‘Ingrid drove Krishnaji and me to Heathrow, where at 3:55 p.m. we went by Swiss Air to Geneva and the Hôtel des Bergues. After arriving, I rang Vanda at Tannegg, where she and Fosca had just arrived. We dined in the Amphitryon pleasantly.’
July second. ‘We got up late and, after breakfast, went to Jacquet.’ That was where he had ties made. ‘We lunched at the Amphitryon, then went to Patek, Grand Passage for an Adidas training suit for Krishnaji, and the newest Braun shaver.’ ‘Hertz delivered a Ford Fiesta to the hotel, and we drove off along the lake, up through Lausanne and so via Bulle, etcetera, to Gstaad, arriving at Chalet Tannegg at 6:30 p.m. Vanda was there
July third. ‘We slept late. It was a quiet day, and the weather was cold. Krishnaji stayed in bed. Dr. Parchure arrived with Harsh and Claire. I wrote to Henry about finances.’
The fourth. ‘ Krishnaji rested but came to the lunch table, and Frances and Mar de Manziarly lunched with us. In the afternoon, Krishnaji had a haircu

July eighth. ‘I fetched Dr. Parchure to Tannegg at 6:15 a.m. as Krishnaji needed to be ready to give his first Saanen talk in the tent at 10:30. It was on "thinking together". He spoke for exactly one hour. Dr. Parchure returned with us in the car and he gave Krishnaji a massage. ‘It was a gray day, so Krishnaji was able to go out. We had our own first walk through the woods. Krishnaji had seen the Siddoos in the afternoon.’

July tenth. Krishnaji gave his second Saanen talk, which was more on thinking together and what is a "good" society. He was bothered by hay fever, though he takes one pink pill each night. Jean-Michel Maroger brought Diane and his mother. Diane is stronger, walks better, can stand without support.

July twelfth. ‘Krishnaji has no fever but his voice is very hoarse. He wouldn’t cancel the talk, and as he spoke, his voice cleared somewhat. He came back and went to bed but got up to see Diane in the afternoon. In late afternoon, in Saanen, Diane fell from her tricycle and fractured her upper right leg. Jean-Michel rang. She is in traction in the hospital and they will stay here until she can be moved to La Maudière.’ La Maudière was their home in France.
The thirteenth. ‘At 11 a.m. there was the annual meeting of all the committees of the different countries at Tannegg. Krishnaji came to it. There was a discussion of the role of committees in preventing 'interpretation', etcetera. Mary Cadogan, Jane Hammond, Anneke, Dr. Parchure, Vanda, and I were at lunch. At 3 p.m., there was a continuation of the meeting without Krishnaji which was held at Chalet Haldi in Saanen.’ I forget—I think some of the committee people were staying there or something. ‘Jean-Michel came to look at the apartment downstairs for Diane and Marie-Bertrande.’
The next day, ‘Vanda left for Florence. Jean-Michel rented the downstairs east apartment and we provided the middle room for Diane as the hospital traction bed can get through its exterior door. Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and I lunched at the table. After lunch, the van came with Diane in her bed and about ten Brockwood young men carried the bed carefully in.’ ‘It just fit in the doorway. Krishnaji came down and saw Diane. In the evening, he had a lot of coughing.’
July fifteenth. ‘Krishnaji gave the fourth Saanen talk. The next day. ‘Both Siddoo sisters came at 4 p.m. to see Krishnaji. He settled Sarjit Siddoo’s monastic notions of the school; celibacy is not required.’ ‘
’

The nineteenth. ‘Krishnaji gave Saanen talk number six. The topic was, “Can we discover a central fact that will answer all  problems?”’ ‘He said, “Knowledge is part of ignorance because it is always incomplete” and “Observation, action, and intelligence, from this comes love, compassion. When there is compassion, there is no pain, conflict, or suffering.” Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and I lunched at the table. At 4:30 p.m., Dorothy and both Siddoos came to discuss schools and were joined at 5:30 p.m. by the Greek woman, Mrs. Elly Abravanel and a friend. She wishes to start a school in Greece.

July twenty-second, Krishnaji gave the seventh talk. ‘On the way to the tent Krishnaji said, “What will I speak about?” He began with, “Why are you so quiet?” and he went on to speak of that. "What is one searching for", etcetera. The mind is a still mind. He finished in an hour, as he has each talk this summer. He rested and I made a fruit dish for lunch.
July twenty-third. We went on the first walk since Krishnaji’s bronchitis, to the end of the wood. My foot was well enough to go, too.’

July twenty-fifth. At 10:30 a.m., Krishnaji began the first of five daily public discussions in the tent. Edward Ani and Christian did their "act" together. In fact, Krishnaji stopped taking questions from the audience because of them. ‘Edward Ani and Christian did their double act to chivy Krishnaji. Ani said, “Why don’t you go?”
The twenty-sixth. Krishnaji had the second public discussion. There was no heckling. Krishnaji spoke on Love, on 'listening', and that a lack of love prevents listening. If you do not listen, which implies change, do not try to blame the speaker. It is your fault. Marie-Bertrande, Jean-Michel, Nadia and Nicolas Kossiakof, and Dr. Parchure were at lunch with Krishnaji and me. Krishnaji saw Diane in the morning and at 4 p.m., but didn’t feel like a walk.’
July twenty-seventh. ‘Krishnaji held the third public discussion Krishnaji and I walked to the end of the woods, and Krishnaji saw Diane as usual.’
On the twenty-eighth, ‘Krishnaji held the fourth public discussion, after which we lunched alone.’
The next day, ‘Krishnaji held the fifth and final public discussion of this summer. Christian was loud and insulting, demanding that Krishnaji reveal “his secret,” something he withholds. Krishnaji held the meeting together and went on. Dorothy and Montague lunched with Krishnaji and me.

July thirtieth. ‘It was a hot, beautiful day. Jackie Siddoo came by to say goodbye to Krishnaji, and he told her not to hesitate to close the school if it didn’t work out. He also told her that he knew about her husband’s talk against Brockwood and himself. Krishnaji and I lunched downstairs with Marie-Bertrande, Jean-Michel, Daphne, and Diane. Marie-Bertrande and Jean-Michel came up afterward, and Krishnaji discussed with them and me what Brockwood’s policy should be on sex.’ An Italian woman reached for Krishnaji through his bathroom window, trying to grab him.’ His bathroom window looked out on the entrance and driveway. ‘I saw Dorothy and Montague in the campground. They leave tomorrow for Brockwood. Dr. Parchure went to talk to U.G. Krishnamurti.’ He was a ratty little man, who was very antagonistic to Krishnaji, and all the time he would get people to come and criticize Krishnaji, and have his little group over which he would preside.

 July thirty-first. ‘Krishnaji dictated ten letters. He saw Diane, talked to Daphne, and talked to Jean-Michel. At lunch, there was Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and me. In the afternoon, Krishnaji saw Diane as usual, and we walked to the end of the wood.’
August first, ‘Krishnaji slept poorly. He is tired. He rested in the morning, and did no exercise. He saw Diane and talked a bit with Marie-Bertrande. He, Dr. Parchure, and I lunched. I typed all morning and slept all afternoon. No walk. It’s a Swiss holiday.’

The fourth. ‘I did marketing. Diane had her leg X-rayed. It is healing well. Krishnaji is still feeling tired. The Marogers asked me to come up the Wassengrat’—that’s a mountain in Schönried. ‘Marie-Bertrande and I walked down from the ski lift, while Jean-Michel and Ariane went to the top. I was back by 5:30 p.m. Krishnaji had walked to the river. He went to sleep early.’
August fifth. ‘Krishnaji slept well, almost nine hours. It was a cloudless, shining morning. Krishnaji “did” my foot and said it was less swollen. He ascribed it to my exercise yesterday going up the Wassengrat with the Marogers and said I should walk more. then said, “You say, ‘yes.’ When?”’ ‘So now, at his urging, at 7 a.m., I went up the hill and then through the woods where it was so cold my hands were numb. When I was finally in the sun, I held them out and handfuls of sunlight warmed them. How beautiful is the world in the early morning.

I had a long talk at breakfast with Dr. Parchure about Krishnaji’s health. Krishnaji has low blood pressure, a slow pulse and, with age, his metabolism slows, so Parchure tries to keep the body fit and stimulated through exercise without tiring Krishnaji. Krishnaji inclines to overdo things; he pushes his body, and is no longer a good judge of its capacities. Krishnaji will seldom stop an exercise on his own. Parchure watches his face. If Krishnaji glances at him, Parchure interprets it that he needs Parchure to call a halt. He spoke of the likely manner of Krishnaji’s death. He doesn’t feel it will be a disease, cancer, or of a heart attack in a sudden seizure way, but a 'slowing down' of the body. He said that if Krishnaji becomes unconscious with cold hands and feet, I should rub them to stimulate circulation lest he slip away. But he thinks Krishnaji will know the time of his death and will tell me and then there should be no interference. Parchure talked to Krishnaji during the massage about some of these things, and Krishnaji brought it up at lunch. Parchure was able to get him to see the problem of getting Krishnaji to realize his own physical capabilities, to harbor his strength and energies. We brought up the subject of the public discussions. Krishnaji now thinks it was the 'unpleasantness' in the tent Sunday that has left him so tired all week, and agreed that we should try the old way of having written questions from the audience and he answering them rather than these “dialogues” that don’t work with a thousand people. He also brought up the “interpretation” problem, and his telling trustees to speak, which has the danger of starting interpretations. Krishnaji said, “It doesn’t work.” I told him of my conversation with a man named Weeks, who seemed pleased when I cautioned him that I was speaking without any spiritual authority, and that I could see him going off and saying, “The people around Krishnaji don’t know what Krishnaji is talking about either.”’ ‘Krishnaji laughed and said, “You can’t win.”’ ‘He went back to the health question and said he has always felt protected. 'Something', a “they” (GWB ?) is looking after him for the purpose of the teachings. He feels that “they” will decide the time and manner of his death and he will know it. He asked Dr. Parchure how the Buddha died; apparently of eating bad food (or...pork ???) , but who knows, really. Krishnaji slept in the afternoon and so did I. Then, we went for the same walk to the river. After supper, I read to Krishnaji excerpts from Mar de Manziarly’s diary, which she has given me for the archives. It contains parts of letters from Nitya. One, when he spoke of tiring things “and the most tiring thing of all is Theosophy.”’ ‘And his description of CWL’s 'boys' in Australia: “They were all kings and saints in former lives, but now, unhappily (just) Australians.”’ [Laughter.] ‘Krishnaji’s face lit up with laughter and youth. And then a quotation from Krishnaji, “It’s strange; I can’t remember him,” he said. But his laughter had a bright flash of recognition in it. “I wonder what he would have done if he had lived, ” I still get that feeling of sadness when I read or think of Nitya, a sense of loss.’ There is something about Nitya that I always found anguishing, the tragedy of his sickness and dying and…

August sixth. ‘Pupul wrote in June asking me to ask Krishnaji about “the missing years” of 1939 to 1947, the war years, when he stayed in Ojai. What did he do? Whom did he see, etcetera. She says he reappeared in India in 1947 differently. I asked Krishnaji Pupul’s questions, and taped his replies. At lunch there was only Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and me.
The next day, Krishnaji still has a slight cold. In the evening I went with Jean-Michel, Ariane, and Daphne to a concert in the Saanen church—the Berlin String Quartet played Beethoven, Hindemith, and Mozart. Marie-Bertrande is not feeling well.’
August eighth. ‘I climbed partway up the Hornberg in the early morning. On my return, I made fruit salad, etcetera, for a buffet lunch. At lunch were Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, Marie-Bertrande, Jean-Michel, Ariane, Daphne, ‘and Diane was carried upstairs on her board. Also, their friend, Madame Solange de Marignac, who had a long private conversation with Krishnaji in the afternoon. She is hooked on Rajneesh.’
The next day it just says that I walked through the woods in the morning and Vanda arrived from Florence in the afternoon.
August tenth. ‘Jean-Michel, Diane, Daphne, leave for La Maudière’—Marie-Bertrande and Ariane had already gone. ‘I left at 9:45 a.m. and drove via Le Col du Pillon and Aigle to the Geneva Airport. I returned the car to Hertz and flew to Rome at 2 p.m. Filomena and her son Mario met me.
August eleventh. ‘I was in Rome, and spent a quiet day talking with Filomena. It was warm but not hot. In Gstaad, Radha Burnier came to lunch and saw Krishnaji before returning to India Monday.’
The next day, ‘I flew back on Alitalia to Geneva, picked up a larger Hertz, a Taunus, and left at 2:30 p.m. for Gstaad, going via Bulle, and arriving at 4:45 p.m. to find Krishnaji looking out his bathroom window. He said, “I knew you were coming. The 'deva' ( the 'angel' ?) told me.”’
August thirteenth, ‘A lovely day, but I felt more like moving slowly than climbing up the hill. I started packing for our Wednesday departure. Dr. Parchure said he had talked at length with Krishnaji about looking after his health, and Krishnaji has agreed to be mindful of drafts, etcetera, and listen to me when I suggest covering his throat when he walks at Brockwood.’ At 4:30 p.m., I took Krishnaji to the village for a haircut. We came back and walked to the river. He said, “I want to talk to you seriously. Please listen. You must outlive me. I’m going to live a long time and you must be well. I can’t have another person look after me, so you must take care of yourself.”…Then another quote, “I am looked after,” he pointed up at the clouds (sky ?). “You understand?”…“You need to rest, to be alone. I see that is good for you. So when you go back to Ojai, you must arrange it and not the everlasting letters, typing, and Foundation things. I will write to you, but you mustn’t have all those nonsensical letters. In India I will give them to Sunanda.”’
‘I asked him, apart from looking after him, if he had another reason I should survive him.’
‘“I have no one else but you. I’m not being selfish.”’
‘I said, apart from that, was there something I must do when he is no longer alive ?’
‘“Could be. Someone must see to it that it doesn’t go to pieces”’ ‘We talked about the responsibility of Foundation members to talk or not to talk, but he didn’t make it any clearer. There should not be a ban on talking, but they mustn’t 'interpret'. Others will, but Foundation members mustn’t. But where is the line? Right now he is critical of Pama having spoken on a tour that he and Sunanda have just made with the videos in South India, because he thinks that Pama doesn’t understand the teachings. It’s okay for Sunanda to have talked. Pupul won’t talk, he said, but she is about to write a book. It will inevitably be seen as a book written by someone close to Krishnaji and the Foundation. Where is the line in all this? He says he will go into it, and it has changed his mind about urging people to talk. Talking of Ojai, he said he wished he could find a little place where he could get away where no one would know where he is, somewhere near the beach, near Santa Barbara perhaps.’ He had this feeling often, of wanting to get away where nobody knew where he was.  And one reason he seemed to enjoy the driving to Saanen from Brockwood was that really nobody knew where he was, expect that he was somewhere in France.
 He felt a pressure, and he felt it particularly strongly in Gstaad when all the people were there and the talks were going on. He said it was like a 'psychic pressure', everybody intent on him.
The next day says, ‘Packing, packing, packing. We went afterward for the last of this summer’s walks to the end of the wood. He paused by the edge of the field, stared at the mountains a few moments and said, “A l’année prochaine.”’ ‘The packing was all done by the evening, and we were ready to leave in the morning.’
August fifteenth. ‘Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and I left at 10 a.m. for Geneva via Les Mosses, Aigle, and the autoroute. We arrived at the airport in one hour and ten minutes, 160 kilometers.’ ‘I dropped the car with Hertz,  and we took the 1:30 p.m. Swiss Air to London. There was an endless wait in immigration—too many flights had arrived at once. Dorothy met us, and Jim in another car took the luggage. Brockwood was looking beautiful. Krishnaji had supper downstairs with the few who are here. We took the Mercedes around the lanes to be sure its battery was charged. We both feel it is good to be back. I talked to Mary Links and unpacked.’

Mary and Joe lunched with us at 12:45 p.m. Joe took Krishnaji to the dentist for an adjustment to his bridge, and me to the hairdresser to get my hair cut. I met Krishnaji at the dentist, and Joe drove us both back to Waterloo, where we caught the 4:20 p.m. to Petersfield.’
August seventeenth. ‘Krishnaji rested while I did laundry and other household chores.
SThe nineteenth. ‘I worked mostly at the desk. The Digbys came to lunch and we talked afterward with Krishnaji about publishing. Should more of the dialogues with David Bohm be published?

The next day, ‘ Krishnaji had a cable from Rajagopal sending love, etcetera, and greetings to me.’
August twenty-third. ‘Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and I went to London where we went to Mary and Joe’s flat, where we lunched and talked. Joe eventually took Krishnaji to the dentist, where Thompson spent two-and-a-half hours fixing the bridge Krishnaji had dropped at Tannegg. I stayed and talked with Mary.
August twenty-fourth. ‘Krishnaji rested. I helped in the tent preparations. The Digbys arrived in time for supper and are in the West Wing spare room.’
The next day, ‘Rain. Krishnaji gave the first of this year’s Brockwood talks in a huge marquee. Before the talk, I announced the change of discussion plans, and asked for written questions, which will be given to Krishnaji. After the talk, Krishnaji and I had fruit and salad in the West Wing kitchen, then returned to the tent for the hot course.
August twenty-sixth. ‘The weather was better. Krishnaji gave a deeply moving talk number two [3] on “senses have no past.” “Knowledge is part of ignorance as it is always incomplete.” Mary Links and Amanda were there, also the Hamish Thompsons’—that’s the dentist and his wife—‘and John Briggs. Krishnaji, Mary, Amanda, and I had coffee in our kitchen. We had only a short walk at 5 p.m. This morning, Dr. Parchure had me come to observe Krishnaji’s exercise so I can keep track in his absence. Krishnaji thinks it’s unnecessary.’
August twenty-seventh, ‘I did exercises with Krishnaji. Later he and I sorted the over ninety questions handed in for the question-and-answer sessions. I typed the ones he chose. After lunch, Krishnaji briefly saw Carlos and Emy Ban, a Brazilian couple, then Krishnaji and I walke
August twenty-eighth. ‘Krishnaji held the first public discussion or question-and-answer session with the new arrangements. He read a written-in question, answered it, and went on to the next one. He did five in all today.
The twenty-ninth. Dr. Parchure, and me about what Krishnaji wants us to do about speaking on the teachings. The decision was to speak only out of our own understanding, making clear to others that it is only that.’ That was the good of all that. He said you can say whatever you want to say, but you must label it as your understanding and not what Krishnamurti means. And that was a vast relief to me, because it was a clear definition.
Krishnaji emphasized that, “The Foundations are not”—underlined—“spiritual organizations and have no”—underlined—“spiritual authority.” We then went for a short walk, Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I. After dinner we sorted questions for tomorrow’s meeting.’
The next day, ‘Krishnaji held the second question-and-answer meeting in the marquee.   It went very wellWe had fruit and salad in the West Wing kitchen and then the rest in the tent.

September first. ‘The suggested brewer’s yeast at breakfast upset Krishnaji’s stomach. He gave the third Brockwood talk but ate no lunch. He did sit with Mary and Joe while we had coffee in the kitchen. At 2:30 p.m., I attended a Publication Committee meeting. It was decided not to publish the rest of the Krishnaji and Bohm dialogues now but make them available at centers for people to read 'on request'. This decision upset Saral Bohm very much. : The second was ‘a sunny day. Krishnaji gave the fourth and final talk, ate as usual in the kitchen, and then in the tent. People began to leave.’

The next day. ‘Dorothy and I drove to Heathrow to see Dr. Parchure off to Bombay. He went on a Syrian airline and we stayed with him through the check-in. Dorothy and I got back in time to walk with Krishnaji. Our new walk is through the grove, around the field, down along fields by the pheasant wood to the lower field, and then up the drive.’ ThSeptember fifth, ‘The Mountbatten funeral in Westminster Abbey was on television. I watched it on Krishnaji’s set while he read detective stories in bed, now and then glancing at the screen and making caustic comments on how silly it all was.’ ‘His objections to royalty were all he saw in it. I found it very moving in the sense of something deep in the bones of British ways and feelings splendidly done and in a kind of language of form that is part of these people, a majesty of tradition in the face of the squalid evil of the murder and the deep affection for the man himself, a pageant of honor to an uncommon Englishman. Krishnaji had no use for it, but endured my watching with occasional jibes. He was very anti-royalist.
The sixth. ‘It was a very warm day. In Doris’s Mini, we went to Petersfield and took the 10:23 a.m. train to London. Looking out at the office buildings, Krishnaji repeated his nine-to-five office disdain. “I would never do it.”’ ‘“What if there were no choices? What if you were on the dole? Or a black person, eighteen years old, unable to get any job?”’
‘K: “I’d do something about it. I am a ''revolutionary''.
‘Joe met us at Waterloo and took us to Huntsman. Krishnaji fitted two trousers. We walked to Hatchards, then…’ This is absolutely standard issue. Then joined Mary for lunch at Fortnum’s. Talked of the second volume of the biography. The question was of how he got the way he is. He said the choices were, “a biologic freak, a 'medium', or three, a 'late maturing mind'.” He said if he were writing, he would consider all these very carefully, or is it something else? He would be with the person, K, and he would study him, question him. He, Krishnaji, discards the 'freak', and the 'medium'. He said he did mature very late, really when he was sixty-five.’
‘Today he would never put up with what Rajagopal and Rosalind did. He would throw them out. Mary said that Rajagopal doesn’t realize how Krishnaji has changed, and so attributes it all to “wicked influences”’—that’s me.
‘I bought some coffee, cheese, and chocolates for Krishnaji and we walked to Truefitt where Krishnaji had his hair cut, then Joe drove us back to Waterloo.’ That’s an absolutely prototype day. The exception for this day is that, ‘I left my briefcase on the train. I realized this at the Petersfield station, told the ticket office, took Krishnaji to Brockwood, and returned at 6:20 p.m. for the briefcase, which was brought back by the train on its return trip to London.’ That was nice of them. ‘I spoke to the Marogers; they will bring Diane here next week.’
The seventh. ‘ There was a letter from Erna about Krishnaji and the Templeton Award.’ That was some man who gives an award to great people who are doing great things. It was discussed that he would get it, or he did get it, I can’t remember which, but Krishnaji didn’t want to accept it. ‘The Oak Grove School’s present monthly deficit is over $6,000.’

September ninth. ‘Krishnaji dictated the thirty-fifth Letters to the Schools. We took a short walk, then worked on the rhododendrons in the grove.’

The eleventh: ‘Krishnaji dictated Letters to the Schools number thirty-six. He said earlier in the morning that he had been sitting very straight in bed, mind empty, and there came a feeling "as if something were pouring into my head. It lasted ten to fifteen seconds to a minute. It was not imagination.” In the afternoon, we went for an earlier walk, and then at 6:30, Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I went out’—underlined—‘to dine at the Old House in Wickham. It is no longer open for lunch. Krishnaji wanted to go, so we went out feeling very festive, having ordered our vegetarian fare ahead of time. We had an intricate and excellent salad, then a quiche of spinach and tomato, new potatoes, and string beans from their garden. For dessert, Krishnaji chose crème brûlée with an amazing relish and no ill effects.’ [Chuckles.] ‘We were back by 9:30 p.m.

September twelfth. Marie-Bertrande and Jean-Michel Maroger arrived for the seminar, but Diane did not come. It’s too much to move her. They are staying in the West Wing guest room. Suzanne and Marjolaine are also here for the seminar, and so is Maurice Wilkins and the Bohms, etcetera. Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I walked in the afternoon.
The next day. ‘At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji held a seminar on “The world is becoming increasingly violent and disordered. What can we do as human beings to change it?” About eighty people in all are taking part.’ ‘In the afternoon, Krishnaji talked to David Bohm and me about Erna’s suggestion that Krishnaji reconsider the Templeton Award. Krishnaji still feels it would be wrong to accept an award for teaching.’ He didn’t want to accept it, I think, because he didn’t think it was right to be paid for what he did.’ ‘We also discussed at length the KFA’s financial problems with the Oak Grove School. After supper, I watched a video of the Buddhist discussion Krishnaji held on June twenty-eighth with Dr. Rahula, Phiroz Mehta, etcetera.
September fourteenth, ‘Krishnaji held the second session of seminar. The fifteenth. ‘Krishnaji held the third seminar session at 11:30 a.m. September sixteenth, ‘Krishnaji held the fourth seminar. Marie-Bertrande told me about some worrying eye trouble that Jean-Michel is having. Krishnaji, in the evening, put his hands on him. The walk in the afternoon was with Krishnaji, Dorothy, Marie-Bertrande, Jean-Michel, and me.’
The seventeenth. ‘Krishnaji held the fifth seminar on “What happens when there’s no sense of individuality?” and  “What is action without the 'actors'?” After lunch, Krishnaji, Marie-Bertrande, and I talked to Jean-Michel about having his symptoms diagnosed. Jean-Michel came on the walk. In the morning Krishnaji had said that a curious feeling came on him. He said, “I felt like a young boy.”’
September eighteenth. ‘Krishnaji held the sixth seminar, completing it. Most people left. The Marogers went to London, and came back at 8 p.m. They ate supper in the West Wing kitchen, and then they left to catch the ferry from Southampton. Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I walked in the afternoon in a light rain.’
September nineteenth. ‘It rained, and the house was quiet again. I worked at the desk all day. Krishnaji and I walked.’

September twenty-first. ‘It was a lovely, clear morning. Betsy had breakfast with me in the kitchen. Then Krishnaji dictated a long letter to Erna about the Ojai school, work in the USA, and his continuing aversion to accepting the Templeton Award. I took Betsy to Petersfield to get the train back to London. I got back in time for lunch. After typing Krishnaji’s letters, he, Dorothy, and I went for a walk.
The twenty-second. ‘The weather is colder. I attended a staff meeting at 9 a.m., and Krishnaji held the first of three discussions with the staff at 11:30 a.m. School policies on ''sex'' seem to be a current concern. The next day, ‘Krishnaji held the second discussion with the staff. Walk as usual, but mostly we worked on rhododendrons.’
September twenty-fourth. ‘Krishnaji held the third discussion with the staff—awareness on conflict dissolves it. He left dealing with school problems to the awareness of the staff "acting together", which upset Dorothy.
The next day, ‘Krishnaji’s voice is thick, but he has no sore throat or cough. He did exercise and went down to lunch but didn’t walk. I fetched Usha Goenka, the Tantia’s daughter from Bombay, at Petersfield. She lunched here and left later in the afternoon.’
September twenty-seventh. ‘I fetched the Marogers with Daphne. Daphne is here to attend school, he is here for the video interview with Krishnaji and Jean-Louis Dewez. Jean-Michel is in the West Wing. Krishnaji’s voice is still hoarse, so he spent the day in bed. I worked most of the day at the desk. New students arrived, thirty-seven of them. Krishnaji placed his hands on Jean-Michel to cure his eye and ear trouble.’

September twenty-eighth. ‘Krishnaji’s voice is better, almost clear. At 11:30 a.m. in the West Wing drawing room, Krishnaji did a videotaped one-hour discussion with Jean-Louis Dewez. Jean-Louis put his questions in French, and Krishnaji answered mostly in English. Jean-Michel will later add the French translation for showing the videotape in France. In the afternoon, they did a second hour videotaped interview "on education". All this was done in color. Krishnaji insisted on a walk, so he, Dorothy, and I went across the fields to the west on a still, perfect afternoon. There was no wind. It was so beautiful. Krishnaji put his hands on Jean-Michel.’ That was to try to help his eyes.
September twenty-ninth. ‘The former students arrive for the start of the term. I worked on the transcription of answers Krishnaji gave to the questions Pupul wanted me to ask him on war years in Ojai, 1939 to 1947. Krishnaji was up for lunch and walked in the afternoon with Dorothy and me across the fields. I looked at yesterday’s video.

September thirtieth. ‘It was the opening day of term. At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji spoke to the school on what it is all about. In the afternoon, Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I walked across the fields. Krishnaji had a stomachache after supper, but it subsided.’

The second. ‘Krishnaji spoke alone with the students, while the staff had a meeting, which I attended. Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I walked across the fields. The dogs chased a fawn. A vet came and the fawn is being 'cared for' in the barn.’
.’
The seventh. ‘Krishnaji spoke to the whole school at noon. Then, he and I walked with Whisper in the afternoon, and he said how lucky we are to live in this beautiful place.’

October ninth. ‘Krishnaji talked to the staff from noon until 2 p.m. Some of them are very resistant to David Sharma and his plans to build at Brockwood.
October tenth. ‘It is the beginning of Krishnaji’s three-week rest. It was a rainy day.
The eleventh. ‘Krishnaji and I went to London on the 10:20 a.m. train. Joe met us and drove us first to Christie’s, where I had Pascaline’s pin evaluated.’ She gave a pin as a donation to Brockwood. ‘Then we went to Huntsman for Krishnaji’s fitting. Mary lunched with us at Fortnum’s, and it was very leisurely, as the Thompson dental appointment was postponed till Monday. We bought books at Hatchards, cheese at Paxton, and then got a taxi to Waterloo. We were back at Brockwood by 6 p.m.

October eleventh, 1979. ‘Krishnaji and I went to London on the 10:20 a.m. train from Petersfield. Joe met us and drove us first to Christie’s, where I had Pascaline’s pin evaluated.’ She donated a jeweled pin to Brockwood. ‘Then we went to Huntsman for Krishnaji’s fitting. Mary lunched with us at Fortnum’s, and it was very leisurely, as the Thompson dental appointment was postponed till Monday. We bought books at Hatchards, cheese at Paxton, and then got a taxi to Waterloo.
The next day, ‘Krishnaji stayed in bed, had his lunch in bed, and only got up for a walk in the afternoon at 4:30. I went to Alresford on errands and attended the staff meeting at 5 p.m.’

 The sixteenth of October, ‘Krishnaji is tired. There was a telephone call from Pama Patwardhan in Bangalore saying that the Benares meetings had been canceled due to electricity and water shortages. Krishnaji will go to Madras and then Rishi Valley. We lunched alone in the West Wing, Krishnaji in his dressing gown. Later we went for the usual walk.’

October nineteenth. ‘Mary Links arrived at 10:30 a.m. to spend the weekend with us, staying in the West Wing guest room. And by 11 a.m., she, Krishnaji, and I were seated around the kitchen table to go into questions Mary has for the second volume of Krishnaji’s biography, which she will start when she finishes the one on her father that she is doing now. She went over with Krishnaji many parts of his life, but one important clarification was Krishnaji’s explaining, again, that though he was perhaps born with a certain temperament, apparently ego-less, free of most of human beings’ usual conditions, and though he went through the suffering of the process, this didn’t mean that others had to be born to it or go through something similar. Out of whatever he is, he has shown certain things, and if one sees and understands, it can come about in them. There was much talk about “the emptiness” of the boy and why the adoration, etcetera, that went on did not corrupt him. Here, similes seem to me to confuse things. We were also trying to find out what Krishnaji actually means by ‘no memory’ he also seems to mean, “no reaction,” rather than literally being a blank.’ That’s my interpretation. ‘He also does remember things in his life as a result of being told about them by someone else.’ That refers a lot to Shiva Rao, who told him a lot about his childhood, which he didn’t remember directly. Dorothy and I went only to the grove as we had to go to a staff meeting; but Mary L. and Krishnaji continued. In the evening, Mary and I sat in the drawing room and talked at some length.’
The next day, ‘There was another long talk in the morning, Krishnaji, Mary Links, and I in the West Wing dining room on questions for the biography. It was his language that was theosophical in the early days, not his beliefs; and later, he found his own language. We lunched again in the West Wing dining room, and walked later across the fields. David Bohm arrived at suppertime back from conferences in Spain and the U.S.’

October twenty-third, ‘Krishnaji and I took the 10:23 a.m. train to London. Joe met us at Waterloo and dropped us at Vigo Street. Krishnaji fitted corduroy trousers at Huntsman. We walked to Fortnum’s. It was cold and brisk, the first wintry day. Krishnaji wore his heavy gray flannel suit with a waistcoat. I had on a Chanel winter tweed I’ve had now for years and seldom wear. We bought chocolates for Krishnaji to take to India, then went up to the fourth floor and lunched with Mary. She put it strongly that if Radha Burnier remains both the head of the Esoteric Section of the Theosophical Society and a KF India trustee, especially now that Damodar Gardens and probably part of Besant Gardens are leased to the KFI for a school, no one will believe that Krishnaji is not connected to the Theosophical Society.’ She was very strong about that. ‘He said he would discuss it in India. He said he did not want this connection in anybody’s minds. I had brought typed notes that I took on Sunday for Mary of the conversation she had with Krishnaji for the biography.’ ‘It developed in further talk at the lunch table that, in Mary’s view, Rajagopal and Rosalind didn’t care if Krishnaji lived or died, even though she still had remnants of her early remembrances that Rosalind was pleasant. Krishnaji told a new anecdote I had not heard before, that Rosalind knocked him down the concrete steps of the patio at Arya Vihara and he was knocked out. It means there was no end to the ugliness of what Krishnaji was subjected to. We said goodbye to Mary and walked to Truefitt, where Krishnaji had his hair cut. We found a taxi and just caught an about-to-leave train at Waterloo. Krishnaji slept in the train.
There’s really nothing of significance until the twenty-fifth, when ‘Krishnaji dictated the thirty-seventh Letters to the Schools. We lunched on trays, and he stayed in bed until 4 p.m. when we walked across the fields. He received a letter from Mary Links reiterating what she had said about Radha Burnier, strongly putting her questioning of Radha Burnier being a trustee of KFI when she is head of the Esoteric Section. Krishnaji is reluctant to have to do something about this, but sees the implications, especially now that KFI is using Damodar Gardens for The School. He likes Radha and she is an excellent KFI member, but the Theosophical Society connection is wrong, and he feels it is.’

The twenty-sixth of October. ‘I worked at the desk in the morning. Krishnaji remained in bed, and we lunched on trays in his room.
8 p.m., Mary Cadogan telephoned. She had been rung by Erna who, on return from Canada with Theo, had received the text of a book of Krishnaji’s poems that Rajagopal is bringing out.’ He had the right—I think I’ve talked about it—to republish anything that had been published before he lost the copyright other words, the pre-’68 material. He could republish, as it was already done, but—and this was in the judge’s decision—it had to be done as originally published. ‘Erna received the text of Krishnaji’s poems that Rajagopal was bringing out, and was disturbed to find that The Path, from 1924, was included, in spite of the settlement statement that Krishnaji didn’t want anything pre-1926 included in future editions. Also, there were “insane” changes to the text. Erna wants a protest letter by the Publications Committee if Krishnaji agrees. Krishnaji stood beside me as Mary told me all this, and said he would absolutely not agree to any changes. Mary rang Erna back to tell her this. Erna was to have talked to Lou Blau, but hadn’t reached him by the time that Mary called her. She will do so over the weekend. But Erna had a call from Rajagopal in the meantime; he learned from Harper’s Carlson’—Carlson was the editor at Harper for Krishnaji books—‘that Erna had seen the text and objected. Rajagopal said he had the right to 'edit'. She said he had no right to change words, etcetera. He said, you are trying to frustrate me like Doris Pratt’s letter. We will have to see our solicitors.’ So that was the beginning of the next lawsuit.
October twenty-seventh. ‘Krishnaji dictated a letter to Rajagopal refusing permission to make any changes. He and I both talked to Mary Lutyens about this, and also about her letter to Krishnaji about Radha Burnier’s trusteeship in KFI. Doris says her letter to Rajagopal was objecting to his giving material on Krishnaji to an Ojai newspaper which did a review of “spiritual” groups in the valley. Krishnaji this morning said the resting he has done these three weeks has been remarkable.’ He had taken three weeks to rest, more or less. “Something extraordinary has been happening. I can’t describe it.” He said we must remember and do it again in the future. Doing his exercises, then spending all day in bed, including lunch on a tray, then getting up for a good walk, then back to bed seems to be the recipe. He reads, sleeps, watches TV, and seems to relax and rest at a more thorough level. But he did say, at one point, that as soon as he really rests, his head starts. The usual pain. His seeing and saying how good the rest is made me happy to the point of tears.’

The twenty-eighth. ‘There was frost on the lawn, and it was fifty-nine degrees in my room. My electric heater is kept in Krishnaji’s bathroom. I turn it on when I get up at 6 a.m., so that it will be warm for his bath. So, as there is little heat in the radiators these days, I light my tiny fireplace. It is nice to sit a few feet from it, and Krishnaji likes it when he comes in for me to help him with one of his two exercises: he sits and I stretch his elbows over his head, also pull his arms straight up while pressing his back with my knee.’ ‘I talked to Mary Links. She suggested that The Path might be acceptable to Krishnaji as it was written in Ojai after his experiences  began there. I got a copy from an archive, showed it to Krishnaji. He thumbed a few pages and listened to my reading a letter in the biography that he had written to Lady Emily while he was writing the piece in 1922, which was later published as The Path. Later I read it all. A strange outpouring of that strange mind; very beautiful. Krishnaji agreed, and so did I, that it could be republished providing Rajagopal makes no changes’—underlined—‘in any text. I rang Mary Cadogan to tell her this so that when Erna telephones here they will both know. Krishnaji went downstairs to lunch with the school. Summertime ended this morning, so when we walked at 4 p.m. across the fields, it was cold, and became dark soon after we got back. The earth smelled of autumn. The grass in the field was dry as hair. We heard the whistle of the Watercress Express train that goes from Alton to Alresford. I have just begun to pack.’

 The twenty-ninth. ‘Krishnaji’s voice was a little hoarse, so he rested in bed all day. We lunched on trays. Much of the morning went in telephone conversations with Mary Cadogan and Mary Links about Rajagopal’s publishing The Path, etcetera. Krishnaji revised the draft of his letter to Rajagopal, which I am sending to Erna in which he said the agreement called for no changes in text, and while The Path was pre-1926, he might consent to its republication providing no changes are made in any of his writings.’ I’d forgotten that the legal agreement of the first suit with Rajagopal was that Rajagopal couldn’t publish anything pre-1926, and The Pathwas 1924. ‘Mary Cadogan says Erna says Rajagopal has revised The Path into a poem format. Mary Links suggested Krishnaji appoint me to make decisions on these publication matters during his absence from the U.S. He gave me a written letter of appointment. I packed in the afternoon, and went to the school meeting.’ I’d forgotten that he had appointed me to do that.
October thirtieth. ‘In the morning, Krishnaji had make a note for Letters to the Schools when he returns. “When attention is profound it includes everything.” I suggested he do one on man’s impulse to worship; what it is. It was a gray day and though Krishnaji’s hoarseness is gone, it was better he not go out. He packed and I packed. We lunched on trays in the dining room.’ He liked to do his own packing.
‘We lunched on trays in the dining room, and afterward he talked to Daphne, Blake, and Chris Koster for a short time.’ Those are students.They say that they and a few others are “serious,” and what could they do about it?’ Those were all good young people.
orothy came up at 4:30 p.m., and we sat and talked and then we went to hear, for the first time, the hi-fi system built by Harsh and students in the Assembly Hall. The car was put away for the winter. Krishnaji gave me a letter to read on the plane tomorrow, and he came in as usual before bedtime and put his hands on my head and eyes—the delicate blessing of his touch. He went to sleep at 8:30 p.m.’ He was always healing me in some way. He felt my eyes, that I shouldn’t wear glasses, and he put his hand on my back.’
‘Krishnaji did his exercises and so did I, against our long hours of sitting in planes. I bathed, dressed, and had my bags ready by 9:30 a.m. I packed two large cheddar cheeses for Krishnaji to take as presents. We had breakfast in the kitchen. He has been telling me I must be very careful, very attentive when I drive. I asked if he had a feeling I was to have an accident. He said when he is with me, nothing will happen, but I must be careful because there is danger to someone very close to him. “Where there is good, evil wants to get at it,” and it can’t touch him but will try to hurt the one who is close to him, so I must be watchful, attentive.’ ‘At breakfast, he said, “Give fifteen minutes a day to sitting quietly, finding out what is attention. Go into it deeply.” He gave me a letter last night to read on the plane. His flight to Delhi on British Air was to go at 13:45, and Dorothy and Doris were to take him. Mine to Boston was two hours earlier. Ingrid kindly offered to take me in her car. All his things were in order. He blessed me. There, the whole life with him is a blessing. Some of the school were out on the driveway to say goodbye to me, and Krishnaji was standing in his white towel bathrobe at the kitchen window above.

It was an aching pain to leave. Heathrow was a jam of passengers, with the three check-in windows for the TWA flight not manned until half an hour after the check-in time. Ingrid came in and accompanied me as far as passport control and then stayed on to see Krishnaji off when Dorothy would bring him for his 13:45 British Air flight to Delhi. He is due there nonstop at 3:30 tomorrow morning, to be met by Pama and Pupul. They then fly at 6 a.m. on to Madras, arriving there by 9:30 a.m. local time. My TWA flight left forty-five minutes late. Once airborne, I could read Krishnaji’s letter as he instructed me. It was short and said everything I care about: “Partir, c’est mourir un peu.”…“Be exceedingly watchful. Be very attentive driving. This attention must flow from the inner to the outer.”…“What a beastly day. "Stia bene e sempre sia benedetta". I felt as though his hands touching me, were coming with me—the piece of paper carries his care and blessing.’
‘I landed in Boston at 2 p.m., coming in over the new Kennedy Airport, opened ten days ago. .’
November ninth. ‘I took the United 11:45 a.m. plane to San Francisco and Alain met me.
The twelfth. ‘I had breakfast with Bud and Lisa, then took the 10 a.m. United flight to Santa Barbara. Erna and Theo met me. We lunched at the school, then came to the cottage. It was strange to come back to it alone.’

The next day, ‘Krishnaji’s first letter of the year from India arrived, posted from Madras November fifth. He went to Rishi Valley on the sixth. At 10 a.m., I went to a seminar at Arya Vihara organized by Fritz. There were eighteen people in all. I lunched there and went to a second session in the afternoon.’
The second letter from Krishnaji arrived, written November seventh to the seventeenth in Rishi Valley.’
December fourth, ‘I got a cable from Krishnaji that he hasn’t received any of my letters. I sent him a reply by cable and a long letter.’
On December eighth, ‘It was the last of the seminar meetings and I got another letter from Krishnaji posted in Rishi Valley November twenty-ninth.’
December tenth. ‘I got confirmation from Clayton Carlson at Harper that a revised-into-original-form manuscript of From Darkness to Light will be sent to us at the end of the week.’
For December fourteenth, I have it that Krishnaji was to go that day from Rishi Valley to Madras. December fifteenth. ‘I spent a quiet day at home. Letter number four from Krishnaji arrived, sent December sixth from Rishi Valley. He had just received my first letter from Ojai.’
December twenty-first, ‘Erna and I went over the corrected manuscript of From Darkness to Light, but it got complicated to read together, so each of us took half to check at home.’
 December twenty-third. ‘I got Krishnaji’s fifth letter sent from Madras on the fourteenth.

December twenty-ninth. ‘I finished proofreading From Darkness to Light, correcting the butchery done to poems by Rajagopal. In the afternoon, I walked with Erna and Theo around the block.’
And the last day of the year says: ‘I went over corrected proofs of From Darkness to Light with Erna and Theo and sent them to Harper. I posted a letter to Krishnaji addressed to Bombay, marketed, and cooked dinner for Erna and Theo. They left before 10 p.m., and I sat up and passed into the new year and the ’80s, listening to one of Krishnaji’s talks.’ I thought that was the way to do it. ‘Bud, Lisa, and Laurie had telephoned earlier from Paris.’ End of 1979

January first, 1980.  ‘Asit Chandmal rang from San Francisco with news of Krishnaji. Krishnaji goes there from Madras on the tenth, and Asit will advise him on ways to get here in case the political situations worsen. ‘A quiet day. I mostly did letters. Went for a walk. It is as warm as summer.’
January ninth. ‘Krishnaji’s seventh letter, written from December twenty-first to the twenty-ninth and posted in Madras. Letter number six is missing.’ He used to write a little bit each day.

January eleventh, ‘I got a letter from Dr. Parchure on a health diet of Krishnaji. Carol and Joe Zorski came to supper at 6 p.m. Krishnaji went from Madras to Bombay.’
January twenty-third. ‘Krishnaji’s ninth letter arrived, sent on January tenth.’
And the next day, ‘Krishnaji’s eighth letter arrived.’
January twenty-seventh. ‘I went to a seminar at Arya Vihara at 10 a.m., then lunched there. My real estate person telephoned that a buyer, a Mrs. McNichol, has accepted my counteroffer on the Malibu house.’

The first of February. ‘Krishnaji, having left Bombay at 3:40 a.m., arrived in London at 6 a.m. Ojai time. I telephoned Brockwood. He was safely there and sounded well. I lunched at Arya Vihara with Evelyne, the Lilliefelts, and seminar people. The trustees had an informal meeting in the afternoon.’

February second. ‘I was home all day preparing the house for Krishnaji’s arrival. There is a new outdoor table, inset with tiles from the Malibu house that’s out on the patio, and two benches made by a carpenter.’
February fourth, and we are back to the bigger diary. ‘The house is polished and so was the green Mercedes today. The house rose beds are made, and the lantana, camellias, jasmine, rosemary, and rock roses are planted. Two hanging baskets of cyclamen are on the north patio. Some painting has been done, and the front door oiled, etcetera.’ In those days, the front door was natural wood and you just oiled it. But it got spattered with rain, so I painted it later. Krishnaji’s TWA flight due at 2:40 p.m. was late by two hours leaving London, because of engine trouble. I saw him debark through a window and there was Asit with him. Krishnaji was in his 'gray herringbone' overcoat and wore a shirt made in India ‘He looked well and less tired than he should’ve been. When they finally emerged, we set off for Ojai. Krishnaji was pleased to see the gray Mercedes. It had been washed in West Los Angeles an hour earlier. It was dark as we passed Malibu and 8 p.m. when we came up the drive in Ojai. Erna, Theo, Mark, Asha, Fritz, Margrete, Michael Krohnen, and Alan Hooker, newly a trustee, were waiting by the pepper tree to greet him. I had made soup in the morning and we had supper after Krishnaji had inspected and shown Asit the house. Krishnaji, at last, home and in his bed.’
February sixth. ‘Krishnaji was up very early but went back to sleep again till 6 a.m., when we went into the still-dark kitchen and had nettle tea. I telephoned Bud. Wooge’s funeral is on Saturday. Bud saw Wooge last Thursday. I telephoned Francis at Elmholm. Asit came for breakfast with Krishnaji and me in the kitchen; Krishnaji sitting in front of the Norwegian stove. We had Erna and Theo come over at 11:30 a.m., and Krishnaji had Asit tell us about a computer scheme to invest in.’ Thank god I didn’t do it. ‘Krishnaji thought it might help the Foundations, but we had to explain that the Foundations cannot invest in speculations. I got lunch, and we five sat at the lunch table till after 4 p.m., Krishnaji wanting to talk, unwilling to rest. Radha Burnier has resigned from the KFI to run for president of the Theosophical Society after John Coats’ death. Rukmini Arundale, her aunt, is the opposing candidate. Krishnaji covered all the Indian news. Finally, he went back to bed, and had supper on a tray while I gave Asit dinner in the kitchen. After Asit had gone, Krishnaji told me of the 'something' new that is going on inside him. It began in Rishi Valley. He said, “It could be the ( GWB ?) 'committee'—or some other....” What 'other' ? I asked. He didn’t know. “We will write about it”…“I am further away”…“Pupul and Nandini noticed it, and said, ‘We have lost you, you are not with us.’” Krishnaji is “cooking” Asit, thinks him very bright and if this financial thing goes through, Asit in five years will be free and able to devote himself to Krishnaji’s work.’ ‘Krishnaji wants to put money into the scheme. Finally, at 11 p.m., he went to bed. He told me again that he wrote to me everyday or I “would fade from my consciousness.”’ He said the reason he wrote so often was so he wouldn’t forget me.

The seventh. ‘Krishnaji was awake at 6 a.m., and talked at length to me till almost 8 a.m. There’s something that began in Rishi Valley that has given him tremendous energy. The brain is charged. “I have changed my idea of how long I will live, maybe much longer.” Asit came for breakfast. Michael is now to do the luncheons at Arya Vihara. So, Krishnaji, Asit, Erna, Theo, and I lunched there today. At 4 p.m., we walked down Thacher Road and around the block.’
The next day. ‘Krishnaji slept in the morning. We lunched again at Arya Vihara and walked up Horn Canyon. Krishnaji thinks it is thirty years since he has walked that far up there.
‘Krishnaji began his exercises.
Krishnaji talked to Asit, Erna, Theo, and me on how to hold the Foundations together. We all lunched at Arya Vihara. Max came and fixed the door. We walked down McAndrew.’
The tenth. ‘I talked to Sally and Anne at Elmholm’—they were Wooge’s two daughters by his first marriage. ‘Krishnaji, Asit, Erna, Theo, etcetera lunched at Arya Vihara, and later walked around the block.’
February eleventh. ‘Asit at breakfast discussed photography and checked all my equipment. He has taken constant photographs of Krishnaji here and in India.’ ‘I gave him an introduction to Clayton Carlson at Harper & Row to discuss a book of pictures of Krishnaji. Later, I took Asit in the green Mercedes to the Santa Barbara Airport, where he flew to San Francisco. Krishnaji was tired and turned out the light right after supper at 8 p.m.
The twelfth. ‘Krishnaji slept nine-and-a-half hours in the night, stayed in bed all day and slept on and off another three hours. “This is luxury,” he said.’ ‘He dreamt I (MZ) said, “I must write a book!’”‘He read some poetry. He asked for the Oxford book of poetry, for some Keats, Shakespeare, Swinburne, Hopkins, O’Shaughnessy. When I said that Hopkins was a Jesuit, Krishnaji said, “Oh, that rather spoils it.”
February thirteenth. ‘Krishnaji wished me a happy birthday.’ He usually didn’t know it was my birthday. I don’t know how he knew, but anyway, he did. ‘He said, “We’ve had a marvelous relationship. It must be that way always. I am speaking as the ''world teacher''. You are blessed.”’ We lunched at Arya Vihara. Krishnaji talked almost two hours at the table, questioning Mark on the school, etcetera. Then he rested. Erna and Theo came to go on a walk, but the rain was heavy so we had tea in front of the Norwegian stove and then watched President Carter’s news conference on television.’

Then nothing really until the fifteenth. ‘It continues to rain. It was Krishnaji’s “day off,” so he didn’t exercise, but stayed in bed all morning. He got up at noon and we all lunched at Arya Vihara. There was a discussion with Mark of the teachers’ discontent and other problems. Krishnaji had walked in spite of the light rain with Erna and Theo. He said he had told them, “You are not using me enough here, ” and said we must discuss this.’
February sixteenth. ‘It rained heavily all night. Krishnaji had Erna and Theo come over at 10 a.m. We sat by the fire and he put to us the question of his not being “used” enough here. “Am I just going to talk to the teachers who understand nothing for two months? It is a waste.”’ ‘He needs the challenge of someone who can push him deeper, someone who has gone into all this. How can we find such a person? He dismisses scientists as not really interested, artists, musicians, journalists, and religiously oriented people as already committed to their own beliefs, etcetera. The 'ordinary individual' is hard to find. Where are the serious, intelligent ones who go in his direction? “Maybe there aren’t any. Maybe this is the way it is supposed to be. I’m not frustrated, but it is a waste.” There is a danger, too, that he will get further and further away. He feels this. It is a lack that confronts him everywhere. At present there is much going on in India but it is an outward response and activity, people offering to help start schools, donate their services, but not this inward exploring. It is intensely painful to me. His frequent telling that the Buddha had only two disciples who understood him, and they both died before he did. One wants to give him everything, but I am unable to search for these people. I am doubtful of my own capabilities in exploring with him. I understand many things, but make no claims to anything. Am I wrong? Am I hiding in a kind of withdrawal from pushing in this direction? My instincts are to protect him, cherish the man and his energies, but perhaps he needs the demands of challenge. Can I do that? I have felt the physical fatigue for a number of months, but energy comes when it is needed and demanded. The rain poured down. We lunched at Arya Vihara. The Pacific Coast Highway is closed. Malibu has no electricity, and the rain is heavy. Ojai is also cut off. Krishnaji came into the study at 4 p.m., and as there was a lull in the rain, we walked down to the Lilliefelts’ and then to the dip. The torrent of brown water was thundering over rocks that had washed into the road. Krishnaji watched it like a child. At the Lilliefelts’, while waiting for them, he said, “I am thirsty,” and drank a little rain off the leaves of a trumpet vine.’
February seventeenth. ‘The rain continues. Ojai is cut off. Malibu is cut off. We lunched at Arya Vihara, then watched the winter Olympics at Lake Placid on television. The earth is sliding more at my place in Malibu.’ Thank god, it was sold. ‘Nothing can be done. Blau telephoned to be optimistic that the escrow will start Tuesday in spite of all this.

The eighteenth. ‘The rain was intermittent through the day. Southern California is in chaos. Malibu remains isolated. My place is crumbling along the fault. Whether the buyer, Mrs. McNichols, will end the escrow remains to be seen tomorrow. Lou Blau called last night to say he thought she would not, which raised my rain-soaked spirits. Krishnaji and I stayed in all day except for lunch at Arya Vihara. Krishnaji found a copy of La Fontaine’s Fables, which I had bound years ago when I did book binding. “I used to do that,” he said unexpectedly.’
‘“When?” I asked.’
‘“Madame de Manziarly did it and showed me how.”’
‘In the evening we watched the ice hockey, which Krishnaji found very skillful, and the men’s giant slalom in the winter Olympics.’ I like watching that, I must say.

February nineteenth. ‘I telephoned Bud on his birthday; he and Lisa go to Palm Beach on museum matters, then to Panama for some sun, returning March second. A new storm brought torrents of rain, so heavy that we had to wait at Arya Vihara after lunch for it to abate before walking home. Krishnaji spoke at lunch to the Lees, the Wilhelms, the Lilliefelts, Michael, etcetera on distrust among the teachers, how to change it, what is thinking together (not from personal bias and not about something). The escrow on the Malibu house, which was to commence today, didn’t as the bank misplaced some papers. Also, the real estate broker is stuck in Topanga by floods and mudslides.’ ‘All parts of L.A. are flooded. Houses are destroyed by mudslides. Even if the escrow starts, when the process is completed, the Malibu place has to be in the condition in which it was at the start, or the buyer can refuse to buy. So there is no telling what will happen because of the rains.
February twentieth. ‘It was clear in the morning and then the rain returned and continued all day. We lunched at Arya Vihara. The real estate man telephoned in the morning to say the escrow on the Malibu land is starting today. At 4:30 p.m., I took Krishnaji to the barber in Meiners Oaks, where he had his hair cut. This morning he had not gotten up by 6:30, as usual, so I went into his room. He had the covers up to his chin, lying, as he does so neatly, in a straight line, but he was not asleep. He spoke but was vague, disinclined to get up, and when he did, he said he was “elsewhere” and “not quite here.” Beyond finding out that he was not sick, I asked nothing but felt his “absence,” which seemed to last until he later came into the kitchen where his breakfast tray was ready. He did no exercise.’

The twenty-first. ‘The rain has gone at last. Krishnaji was up at the usual time, and did his exercises. The real estate man rang to say the escrow papers are in Louis Blau’s office. Blau said the escrow person at the bank is revising them, and he will try to bring them for my signature this weekend as he is coming to Ojai with Evelyne. Krishnaji dictated a description, which Mary L. had requested, of the change in Krishnaji’s 'meditation' which began in Rishi Valley in November and continues here. He said it is completely different and new, a movement that reached the source of all energy, a sense of the absolute; the whole universe is in it. There is the perception that there is nothing beyond this. “This is ultimate, the beginning and the ending, the absolute. There is only a sense of incredible vastness and immense beauty.”’ When asked how one knows it is the source of all energy, he said, “One can only reply, with complete humility, that it is so.”’

In the letter, he repeated that if Mrs. Arundale became president of the Theosophical Society,  “It would be a disaster.” He asked me to show his reply to Erna, who also was disturbed by Toddywalla’s assertion, and she also felt that Krishnaji should not do politics for Radha. So, after lunch, he drafted another, better reply. In the course of doing this, with Erna and Theo present, he had me read what he had dictated in the morning on meditation. And today he said, “The body feels very young. Meditation has done something to the brain. I am not tired. On the contrary. Something has happened to the body, something I cannot put my finger on has happened to the whole mind. It is not what it was. What it was, was alright, but it is something entirely different. You have no idea how I worked in India at Rishi valley—the teachers and school, but I wasn’t tired. I was like a flame.”’
February twenty-second. ‘No rain. Krishnaji dictated a few letters. Theo met Asit at the  Santa Barbara airport. Krishnaji is very interested in Asit’s business in San Francisco, an unusual interest for him. He wanted to put his small savings from the Miss Dodge money into Asit’s venture but apparently this will not be possible.’ Krishnaji’s small savings; he got £500 a year from Ms. Dodge and he wanted to invest it in Asit’s ventures. Thank god, it couldn’t be done. ‘Krishnaji rested while Asit came with me to the village marketing. Then, Krishnaji, Asit, Erna, and Theo went for a walk while I cooked supper. We ate in the kitchen and watched Washington Week in Review. The main television was in his room. He would always have supper in bed, as you know, and I would sit in the big red chair.
 And we would have supper on trays that way. And the big television was next to the big red chair, so he would look at it. There was a small television in the kitchen. Anyway, ‘we watched Washington Week in Reviewand then the Olympics. ’

The twenty-third. ‘At 11 a.m., there was the annual KFA trustee meeting. Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, Alan Hooker, Evelyne Blau, and Asit came as a guest trustee from KFI. We discussed Rajagopal’s violations of the settlement agreement. Erna raised the question of inequity to me in my remaining payment, due in 1981, on the purchase of the McAndrew Road property. . ‘I did not attend this discussion. On my return, all agreed that Lou should review the situation, then we adjourned. Krishnaji, Asit, Erna, Theo, and I walked down McAndrew Road and back. Asit leaves Monday for Singapore.’

February twenty-fourth. ‘Margaret Dodd came to see Asit and discuss a book he wants to do of photos.’ She had something to do with publication. ‘She lunched with us at Arya Vihara. Krishnaji was a bit tired from no nap due to the KFA meeting yesterday. The Blaus have tried to see Rajagopal as Lou has never met him and thought he could prevail in getting a donation from him,‘but Rajagopal said he didn’t feel well. Lou reviewed the settlement agreement and thinks we should attempt to photocopy archive documents. He brought up the Berwick TV interview of Krishnaji, which Evelyne arranged and I opposed. We disagreed. I put on the Berwick program for Krishnaji to see; it was an interview of Norman Mailer, and Krishnaji didn’t want to watch after about ten minutes.
The twenty-fifth. ‘Krishnaji and I said goodbye to Asit at 5:30 a.m., and Theo drove him to Ventura where he took the bus to Los Angeles and a flight to Singapore. Evelyne telephoned about the Berwick interview; she didn’t cancel it when we said “no” in January, hoping, I suppose, that Krishnaji would decide otherwise on arrival but in the end Krishnaji decided it would be too tiring, three hours to get to NBC in Burbank and back.

The twenty-seventh. ‘There was a telephone call from a young woman with leukemia named Angela Arzunian, asking to see Krishnaji. He agreed, and she came in the afternoon. He saw her for about forty minutes, and said she did most of the talking. He listened, and held her hand. She had read all the books, knew what he had said about death, and is not afraid. She has only a short time to live. In the evening, we saw a television documentary on young people in deep trouble with the law. Krishnaji watched. “What is wrong in this country!”…“I could weep for these young people.”’
The next day. ‘Krishnaji slept poorly, woke in the night thinking, “I am being wasted. What am I doing here for four months? Just talking to those teachers?” At lunch, he brought it up again. We were alone and having our first meal at the new table on the patio. “What am I to do? I am not being used. The Committee might say, ‘You’re not doing anything. Leave!’” And later on the walk with Erna and Theo, he raised it. “What am I doing just talking to these teachers who understand nothing?” We frantically asked him what he should be doing. “Talking,” he said.’
Since 'that thing' happened in Rishi Valley, there is much more, much more to be got out.” In all the past, no one has helped him to reveal his teaching, but now it seems he needs the affect of someone being able to question, to spur him to go more deeply. The responsibility seems to be on us to provide—so this agonizing warning.’

February twenty-ninth, leap year day. ‘Krishnaji slept well, nine hours. At 10:30 a.m., Krishnaji talked in the living room with Mark, Fritz, Erna, Theo, and me about the school. The teachers have a lack of trust, are “suffering,” they feel they are not consulted enough. Toward the end of the discussion, Krishnaji said he would meet with us and two or three teachers on Wednesday to work out “the rules of the game” in the school. Then, have meetings on Thursday and Friday with all of them to go into it. Then, enough on schools; he said some of what he had said yesterday. “What am I to do here for four months?” The others left while I got our lunch and stood talking about what could be done to find people able to discuss with him. Krishnaji had me ask Erna and Theo back to lunch with us, as we had just enough; and the four of us had lunch on the terrace. Krishnaji took a nap for two hours, and then we went for a walk with Erna and Theo down to Reeves Road and back.
The first of March. ‘After breakfast, Krishnaji had a stomach cramp and felt ill. When we went to lunch at Arya Vihara, he ate very little and then went back to bed. I had a long talk with Erna and Theo, Fritz, and Margrete about the school and possibly a few teachers to work closely with Mark to change the division between Mark and the staff. Krishnaji remained in bed and had a light supper. I made him a vegetable broth, which he had with dry toast and an apple. He thinks yogurt made him sick but felt better in the evening.

.’
March second. ‘Krishnaji was weak in the morning but ate a normal breakfast. I spoke to David Bohm in London about discussions he wants to have with Krishnaji when he is here. He and Saral arrive on the twenty-seventh.’
The next day. ‘Rain turned to showers. Krishnaji was much better. We walked in the afternoon. And ‘he asked me why haven’t I “this thing.” “What’s the point if someone so close to me doesn’t have it?” He then asked me if I thought 'like a woman' -he meant did I think beyond the reactions and the nature of a woman. “Is that you? Is it that you do not see instantly the whole of a problem? I want to change you.” That’s what we were talking about yesterday, seeing the whole.’

M: The fourth. ‘At 11:00 a.m. Krishnaji had Erna, Theo, and Alan Hooker as trustees come and talk about meetings with teachers beginning tomorrow. We discussed the functions and responsibilities of trustees, of the school director, etceterad.’
March fifth. ‘There was a meeting after breakfast at 9:30 a.m. of Krishnaji, Mark Lee, the Lilliefelts, Alan Hooker, and me. It was another rainy day. We telephoned Mary Links and Krishnaji reassured her that he is not joining the Theosophical Society and has so answered the Toddywalla letter. She and Joe sounded like they were in the room; it was lovely to talk to them. We lunched at Arya Vihara, and at 4 p.m., Krishnaji held a meeting here with trustees and the Oak Grove School staff. It went on till 6:30 p.m.

The eighth. ‘Alain had breakfast with the Lilliefelts, returned, and had a private talk for about an hour with Krishnaji. We all lunched at Arya Vihara. Various teachers were there. After a rest, Krishnaji, Alain, Erna, Theo, and I walked down McAndrew joined by a waiting Japanese man who wanted to see Krishnaji, and invited himself to come along. This sort of thing makes me cranky.’ ‘Toward the end of the walk, Alain said to me one of his reasons for coming here is because Mary L. had told him that both Krishnaji and I felt some unfinished something from years ago. He said he had talked to Krishnaji in the morning and now wanted to clear it up with me. I said for myself, I felt then and still felt, that he had acted wrongly when he left, but he had a right to act as he chose. It was over and gone and didn’t color my friendship for him today. He defended his actions, saying he was accused unjustly, etcetera, and he said both sides acted wrongly. His words were wanting things to be right, but there was, I felt, an insistence in him that he had been right. By this time, we were back at the gate. The others were catching up, so I spoke in as friendly a way as I could, warmly of past times, when we were all together. I fixed our supper and all three ate in front of Krishnaji’s television.’

The ninth. ‘It was a beautiful day. Krishnaji, Alain, and I had breakfast in the kitchen. Alain left at 10:30 a.m. for San Francisco “Naudé is tiring,” said Krishnaji after he left, but he feels perhaps Naudé would like to come back to some degree. It was vague, and we’ll see.

The next day. ‘There was a meeting of Erna and Theo, Alan Hooker, Mark, me, and Carol Andre on the future of the school vegetable garden. It is too expensive to continue. Carol is to leave. After lunch and a rest, Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and I walked in the Topa Topa Ranch grove.’ We had permission from the Topa Topa owners.

March eleventh. ‘In the afternoon, I went to an Oak Grove School teacher and parent meeting. Carol Andre is no longer on the staff; will stay on until the garden is changed, and turned over to the staff and many volunteers who will look after permanent plants. It was a calm meeting. I came back and walked with Krishnaji.
The twelfth. ‘It was a lovely, clear day. At 11 a.m., we went with Erna and Theo to Santa Barbara, going through the Casitas Pass’—that’s the inland way. ‘The lake was full, the hills were so very green, and the ceanothus was in bloom. We went at first to buy a training suit for Krishnaji, then to Danica House for teak oil, to a French bakery, and then lunched in a small French restaurant called Mousse Odile. We had to wait but the food was good. Afterward we went to Kaiser Health Food there, then drove to the botanical gardens where we walked about. Then we drove to Montecito, bought cheese and vegetables, and came home after casing the barber at the Biltmore Hotel for Krishnaji and a hairdresser for me. The ocean was welcome to both of us as we drove back. It smelled of the sea, and soft, moist air. We were back at 6 p.m. Krishnaji was not too tired. We had supper with the fresh vegetables and goat cheese we had bought.
March thirteenth. ‘Sidney Field came to lunch at Arya Vihara with Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, Michael, and me. He told of robberies and of the dangers of life in his section of Hollywood. Also, he reminisced and said he hadn’t ever spoken to Rajagopal since a telephone conversation in which Rajagopal was complaining of his health and having a hernia. Sidney had told him, “Well, that’s what comes with 'lifting' other people’s property.”’ ‘In the afternoon, Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and I walked through the avocado and orange trees of the Topa Topa Ranch, a very pleasant walk. We discussed the renewed crisis in school. Laura Martin is resigning, and she says the trouble between Mark and the staff still exists. We decided to talk to Mark tomorrow morning and then see the teachers without him in the afternoon.’

March fourteenth. ‘At 8 a.m., Krishnaji, Mark, Erna, Theo, Hooker, and I met. Krishnaji told Mark we would see the teachers in the afternoon without his being there. That meeting was held at 4 p.m. All the staff came. Krishnaji worked very hard at trying to get to the root of the problem. It is a lack of common ground, i.e., bringing about a different human being in the school, the children. All else is peripheral. He got most of them to see this though Laura and her husband, and Margrete Heising, Fritz’s wife, remain uncommitted. Later, Krishnaji chided me for not going deeper, but only discussing on the periphery. “You should’ve solved it, you and the Lilliefelts,” he said.’
March fifteenth. ‘At 4 p.m., Krishnaji held a two-and-a-quarter-hour meeting with parents, teachers, and few others.
March sixteenth. ‘At 10 a.m., Krishnaji, Mark, and David Moody, who will join the school in September, Erna, Theo, Alan Hooker, and I met and discussed Friday’s teacher meeting with Mark. Mark was remarkably open and un-defensive in all this. It is good that Moody was there seeing all sides. At 4 p.m., the second parent-teachers-etcetera discussion was held for one hour and twenty minutes. Max came on the walk afterward with Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and me.’
The seventeenth. ‘I woke up at 3 a.m., and did proofreading on the final version of From Darkness to Light just received from Harper & Row. I had surprising energy all day. In the afternoon, Krishnaji and I washed the green car and then went for a walk with Erna and Theo through the Topa Topa grove.’

After lunch, Krishnaji and I drove to the Biltmore Hotel in Montecito, where Krishnaji had a good haircut. The day had cleared and the world was windy and shining. On the way home, we stopped for more goat cheese from Provence. Krishnaji drove along the ocean, looking pleased and very young. He hoped for a train, and one came by, keeping us company as far as Ventura.’ ‘He told me that years ago, when he used to drive by himself, when a train would be parallel with the road, he would drive fast. And the train engineer would shake his finger out the window at him, and he would stop racing.’

March twentieth. ‘I fixed our breakfast and then I left at 7 a.m. for Malibu. The coast road has just opened after landslides, and the rain has brought out more than ever before the yellow tufted daisies that Krishnaji and I like so much.

The twenty-first. ‘Krishnaji came with me to Green Thumb Nursery to choose a ficus to go in the corner of the new flower bed where the pool was.’ ‘We bought little plants too and got back just in time for lunch. In the afternoon, Thomas planted everything in the little garden using two of the Malibu sea rocks. It was finished and looking charming by the time we came back from our walk. Krishnaji was pleased.’
March twenty-second. ‘Krishnaji met with Erna, Theo, Alan Hooker, Mark, David Moody, and me about Moody’s draft of a statement on a definition of “common ground” for the school, and we spent an hour amending it. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji held a discussion with parents, teachers, etcetera, which Krishnaji thought went well. Louis Blau sent the final papers with Evelyne for me to sign.

On the twenty-fifth, ‘Krishnaji says we ought to go to Sri Lanka in the autumn. He forgot to tell me. He said Dr. Parchure predicted I would object—Krishnaji taking on too much.’ Well, anyway, we went. ‘The buyer of the house, Mrs. McNichols, telephoned to say, “It is such a beautiful house.” It will be hers tomorrow. I replied in kind. It rained. I went to the Department of Motor Vehicles in Ventura about missing license tags.’
March twenty-sixth. ‘I was up early and proofread the final version of From Darkness to Light, finishing my share. Erna and Theo are doing the rest. An appraiser came about the art and china in the house. Krishnaji talked alone with the Siddoos. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji, the trustees, and Oak Grove staff met to go over the “common ground” statement. It lasted over two hours.
The next day. ‘The Malibu house belongs to the new owner. I am immensely relieved. Krishnaji went with Theo to visit the school. I marketed and made our supper. In the late afternoon, Saral and Dave Bohm arrived from London for about three weeks. The Siddoos leave.’
March twenty-eighth. ‘Krishnaji’s “day off.” No exercise. Krishnaji says Theo told him that he and Erna eat sandwiches and salad at night. He thinks we should, too. The yam we had last night disagreed with him and it came up. “My stomach is very clever. It rejects only what it doesn’t like.” He dictated letters in the morning. He is interested in going over the archive photos collected by Mendizza in Adyar and in identifying people in them, which I write down. The Bohms were at lunch. The appalling state of the world was talked of at table, seemingly insoluble problems and the drift toward war or starvation. “The world is mad,” said Krishnaji to me as we walked back through the orange trees on this beautiful day. Later, he wanted to finish the photographs, and then we walked with Erna and Theo through Topa Topa. The valley is beginning to fill with the scent of orange blossoms. The mourning doves make their gentle sound, and we have been hearing great horned owls at night.’

March twenty-ninth. ‘Krishnaji is increasingly disturbed over Fritz and Margrete. He feels the atmosphere in the school and Arya Vihara is not good. He talked to David Moody at Moody’s request after lunch. At 4 p.m., he held a fifth discussion with teachers-parents-etcetera, including the Bohms. Later, Krishnaji told me, “You must think like me, not like Mrs. Zimbalist.”’ ‘There were severe admonitions brought on my not sharing his more severe misgivings about elements he feels are destructive to the work here.’

April first. ‘It was a quiet morning for Krishnaji, but a very busy one for me. At 4 p.m., with Dave Bohm. Present were: Erna, Theo, Hooker, Fritz, David Moody, and Robin. Krishnaji began by asking, “Did mankind go wrong? If so, when and where?” Eventually he described his own 'meditation', which is not deliberate. He wakes up meditating. In Rishi Valley it happened that he touched what he described as the Source of Energy. Toward the end, he spoke of a destruction (of all conscious thought, etcetera, as we know it) and that is a beginning. “Is it creation?” As he was speaking, I had the vivid sense of destruction and creation being one ultimate action in reality. We went for a short walk with Erna and Theo. Margrete has resigned from the school, is angry and disturbed. Krishnaji feels something must be done. He had earlier asked me to talk to Fritz. Krishnaji said I must “stay young,” and he is effecting this when he does my back and head.’ He put his hands on my back when it was sore. That’s going to help me be young.

April second, At 4 p.m., Krishnaji had a one-and-a-half-hour taped discussion again with David, a continuationfrom yesterday on: 'Did man take a wrong turn'? And what lies beyond emptiness and silence? “There is 'something'.” It was an extraordinary conversation, as if Krishnaji was seeing beyond human perception. He ended it with his funny story about the man who died and met Saint Peter, was accepted in heaven but given a chance to visit “down there,” which he did and was received by marvelous girls, etcetera; so he chose that, went down again, but was beaten up on his arrival. Why?, he asks, when that wasn’t his first experience. “Oh, you were a tourist then.”’

The sixth, Easter Sunday. ‘It was a beautiful day. Krishnaji watched TV all morning from the Pope in Rome to the Reverend Schuller, whom he watches with incredulous amazement that people are so taken in.’ Reverend Schuller was one of those television evangelist preachers. He built the Crystal Cathedral and it went on and on. Krishnaji would stare at this in fascinated horror. Joy Mills, now at Krotona, came to lunch at Arya Vihara and for coffee at the cottage afterward. Krishnaji is interested in the probability of Radha Burnier winning the election for the presidency of the Theosophical Society over her aunt Rukmini Arundale. Mills is confident she will. People on Rukmini’s side were saying Krishnaji wants to take over the Theosophical Society. Later on the walk, Erna asked him if he does. “Just the land,” he said.’ He liked having land.  He was always, when we were looking for a place for the school, before we settled on the land we got, he would say, “More, buy more acres,” forty acres, fifty acres.

On the eighth, ‘At 4 p.m., Krishnaji held a taped discussion with Bohm and Fritz. Afterward, he and I watered the garden.’
April tenth. ‘Louisa has had a telephone call from Mike at the embassy in Tehran. On TV, militants threatened to kill hostages if [there was] any military action, including by Iraq, which they consider to be a U.S. puppet. Krishnaji jokingly but vehemently said he would blockade the Gulf unless the hostages were freed or if they are harmed. He would seize the Iranian oil fields and warn Russia not to interfere.’ ‘“Then, I’d say ‘I’m a pacifist.’”’Laughing, he said this. ‘At 4 p.m., there was a discussion with Krishnaji and David Bohm, with Fritz and David Moody joining in. What will make man change? was the topic.’

April eleventh. ‘. We talked in the car about this first attempt to start an 'adult center' in Ojai. Krishnaji feels acutely that it is wrong, is not developing, mustn’t go on. He is intense and disturbed about it. We got back in time for lunch. “Why are we both tired?” he asked. After lunch, he talked with Erna and Theo and me until 4:30 about the Fritz and Mark problems. David Bohm came in for part of the Fritz discussion. It seems that Fritz has thought of doing something else; teaching philosophy somewhere. Bohm will sound out Fritz on this. It would detach Fritz from our work and undo what has turned out wrongly. That left us with the Mark problem and the question of why some staff are leaving. Is it Mark’s fault? Krishnaji feels strongly that Asha is part of Mark’s apparent weakness and is an irritant in the school. Erna is depressed and concerned. We have to get at the reasons some staff are leaving. Is it something in Mark? Krishnaji said again, “I am wasted here.” And later to me, “Why am I doing all this?” I asked why he gets involved in all these schools everywhere. Is that his job? He said, “The 'Committee' may say that’s enough.”’
( we don’t know what the Committee is, but we know it is... Unknown.)

After lunch, Krishnaji talked with Erna, Theo, Hooker, and me about Mark and the school difficulties. Erna had talked to Darcey and others’—Darcey was a teacher in the school—‘on why they were leaving the school. One fact is Asha’s meddling. This confirmed Krishnaji’s opinion, and that she has no business in the school, etcetera. He was very drastic, but it  ended up that I am to talk to Mark and tell him Asha must not be part of the school. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji held another discussion particularly with David Bohm, but Fritz and David Moody were in it partially. Krishnaji had chided me for not joining in, so I did, minimally. It began with Dave asking about “the Ground” and what is the relationship of a person to that. Krishnaji led one through this subject brilliantly. The total destroyer, a sword cutting away the delusions of the mind. He looked tired at the end and has the beginnings of hay fever. He expended much energy people he feels are destructive to the work, and he was scathing.’

April fifteenth. ‘Krishnaji is better. As a result of Saturday’s conversation between Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, Hooker, etcetera, I saw Mark alone and told him we felt Asha must not interfere in school matters. He listened with remarkable openness. Krishnaji got up for lunch. In the afternoon he had another discussion with David Bohm. His voice was a little thick, but his energy had returned.’
The sixteenth. ‘I left at 7:30 a.m. and went via Malibu to Beverly Hills. It was a hot day. I did lots of errands, had my hair cut, then spent half an hour with the Dunnes on the way home. Krishnaji had talked to Mark in the morning. He also talked to Dave, who says that Fritz wants to leave. Krishnaji, Erna, and Theo were starting on a walk as I arrived at 6 p.m., so I joined them but felt tired.’

April seventeenth. ‘After breakfast, Krishnaji said that he wanted a serious talk with me. We sat in the living room. He said he’s wasting his time here with school problems and talking to teachers who don’t understand. He’s been here three months, and what? He has woken up with intimations three times that he is being wasted. Ojai, he feels, is a sacred place, and he likes this house, but it is a waste for him. He could write, but he should be having living discussions; someone to talk to who can help him to go deeper. Bohm helps, but he can talk to him at Brockwood. More is happening there. If he doesn’t do something, "something else" will take a hand, something will make it impossible for him to be here. He wants to prevent that. What to do? He said sometimes it is as if something very far were calling him. “Something beyond the stars.” He said I am the closest person to him, but that doesn’t make a difference. He had me call in Erna, Theo, and as Mark was with Erna in the office, Krishnaji had him come, too. He had me begin to report what he had said, and then he picked it up and said, “I have been sent.” He held another discussion with David Bohm from 4 p.m. to 5:40 p.m. It was an absorbing one. .

 April nineteenth. ‘The weather is still hot. Krishnaji saw Mark, Asha, Erna, Theo, Alan Hooker, Evelyne, and me for a discussion of the school and in particular Asha’s position in it. It was made very clear that Asha may not interfere, as she has constantly in school affairs, and may not be on the staff, etcetera. The position of wives in businesses, etcetera, was explained. Krishnaji led all this. She appeared to concur, but after she and Mark left, she didn’t take it well. Mark came here to tell me this. At 4 p.m. Krishnaji held another
April twentieth, 1980. ‘Krishnaji saw Fritz and Margrete in a rigorous discussion of their role in all that is wrong at Arya Vihara and the Oak Grove School. Fritz was so shaken by Margrets’s reaction that he couldn’t speak. Later, Fritz, but not Margrete, was at lunch, after which he, David, and Saral went to Berkeley where Dave is lecturing and holding discussions. David and Saral will go on to British Columbia in a week and Fritz will return here. Fritz told Krishnaji that he and Margrete must leave, then, just after lunch, he reversed himself and said he wants to stay. Krishnaji said they would talk on his return from Berkeley. During all the above in the morning, Miranda and Amanda came in to see me. Miranda hadn’t seen the house until now. We spent a happy hour together. Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and I went for a walk in the afternoon.’
April twenty-first. ‘There was a faint rain. I saw my niece Louisa Kennedy on television talking about the Tehran hostages and her husband. Erna, Theo, and Scott were at lunch. Krishnaji and I went to the hearing aid place in Ventura where he was fitted for ear molds,’ which he never used. ‘Some azaleas were planted near the camellias.’
The twenty-second: ‘There was rain, and it was cold. Krishnaji saw Mark and Asha in the morning. To lunch were Mr. Merali and Robin Slanager. Krishnaji talked to Erna, Theo, and me all afternoon. We walked.’
The next day. ‘I went out early to the market, the bank, etc. At 10:30 a.m., Krishnaji had a meeting with Mark, David Moody, Erna, Theo, Alan Hooker, and me about Moody being the assistant school director, and Erna handling the school finances. At 4 p.m., Mr. Merali, Erna, and Theo came to tea. We discussed Mr. Merali’s donation. We all went for a walk. The weather still very cold.’
April twenty-fourth. ‘Krishnaji and I went with Erna and Theo to Santa Barbara for Krishnaji’s IRS clearance to leave the country. We lunched at El Paseo. Krishnaji had a haircut at the Biltmore, and we came home, then went for a walk.’
The twenty-fifth. ‘An attempt to rescue the hostages in Iran had to be aborted because of helicopter trouble. Eight of the servicemen were killed in a collision. President Carter announced it. Television programs covered it all day. Louisa was interviewed in London. Krishnaji had a quiet morning while I worked at the desk. Mr. Merali joined us for a walk in the afternoon. We watched television news most of the evening.’
April twenty-sixth. ‘At 10:30 a.m., Krishnaji talked to David Moody and then to him and his wife, Vivian. Krishnaji called me in. Then David, Erna, and I talked. I finished my share of the final check of the text of From Darkness to Light, the book of the early poems sent by Harper & Row. Max came to fix the door and lunched. At 2:30 p.m., Erna, Mark, David Moody, and I discussed school business. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji met with teachers and trustees and explained Mark now being simply the administrative director of the school, David now being the educational director, and Erna handling  all the school finances.’
The twenty-seventh. ‘Dorothy telephoned from Brockwood and later we telephoned back.’ Doesn’t say what it’s about. ‘At 11 a.m., Evelyne came with Michael and Bonnie Mendizza and showed Erna, Theo, Alan Hooker, and me parts of the Krishnaji biographical film. We all lunched at Arya Vihara, and Krishnaji gave an extraordinary account of his early days. We viewed more film in the afternoon.’
April twenty-eighth. ‘Krishnaji had a toothache and had it pulled by Dr. Meinig.’ Meinig was the local dentist that Krishnaji had been to for years. ‘He had lunch in bed while I had Amanda and Winky to lunch in the kitchen. Bud telephoned about Mother’s estate still not being settled and its effect on Wooge’s estate. I took Krishnaji at 3:30 p.m. to Ventura, where he got a pair of hearing instruments. We came back in pelting rain.’
The twenty-ninth. ‘Krishnaji feels better. At 10:30 a.m., he saw Fritz and Margrete; they have decided to move north to around San Francisco where Fritz will perhaps be part of the academic circle. This solves the problem. Krishnaji called in Erna and me to hear their decision. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji had his second meeting with teachers about the new arrangements with David Moody and his job. Also Krishnaji announced that Fritz and Margrete were leaving.’
April thirtieth. ‘I went to a pottery exhibit at the Oak Grove School, then bought eight more roses that Krishnaji wants, and marketed. Mr. Merali was at lunch. He made a large donation to KFA. Later we all walked in a light rain.’
The first of May, ‘Erna and I talk to a parent, Mrs. St. John. I then typed letters. After lunch, Krishnaji was photographed for the Ojai Valley News. I worked at the desk and later Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and I walked.’
The next day just says, ‘Desk. Errands. Walk. Eight more rose bushes planted.’ [Both chuckle.]
May third. ‘Krishnaji gave his first talk in the Oak Grove. It was a beautiful day. Elfriede came with Fred to photograph the house. Krishnaji and I lunched alone with Michael at Arya Vihara.’
The fourth, ‘Krishnaji gave his second talk in the Oak Grove. Toodie and her children were there. I sat with them. Krishnaji and I lunched alone again with Michael at Arya Vihara.’
The fifth of May. ‘Krishnaji went to the dentist, Dr. Meinig, at 8:30 a.m. with Theo. On his return, we sorted questions handed in for tomorrow and I typed them. Mr. Merali was at lunch, and he came on the walk later. Krishnaji said to me, “Catch my thought.” I saw instantly that he wanted me to help him move two new roses in cans on the driveway.’
May sixth. ‘At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji held a public question-and-answer meeting in the Oak Grove instead of a discussion. He read and then answered three questions chosen by him from those that had been handed in. After lunch at Arya Vihara, Alan Kishbaugh brought a record for Krishnaji. In the evening I telephoned Filomena in Rome to wish her happy birthday. It was early tomorrow her time.’

The eighth. ‘Krishnaji held a second question-and-answer meeting in the Oak Grove. The weather was cold. Afterward he spoke to Blackburn for half an hour outside the cottage, then we lunched alone with Michael at Arya Vihara. We walked to the dip and back at five. It was a drizzly afternoon.’
May ninth. The Bohms and David Shainberg arrived from Vancouver to spend the weekend.’
May tenth. ‘There had been rain in the night, but it was clear by the time of Krishnaji’s third Ojai talk in the Oak Grove at 11:30 a.m. We lunched at Arya Vihara. David Shainberg came in as we were finishing and he and Krishnaji talked. Later, Krishnaji and I walked to the dip in rain showers, and saw a double rainbow. Asit arrived from Singapore. He is staying at Arya Vihara.’
The eleventh of May. ‘Krishnaji gave his fourth Ojai talk in the Oak Grove. Dr. and Mrs. Maquet, David Shainberg, and the Bohms came to lunch.
The next day. ‘Krishnaji’s eighty-fifth birthday.’ It was a busy morning. The Bohms left for London. Krishnaji went to the dentist, Dr. Meinig, at 9:30 a.m., Shainberg and a doctor friend came here. Asit, Ted Cartee, Frances McCann, Evelyne, the Lilliefelts, Hooker, the Moodys, and Alan Kishbaugh were all at lunch. The four trustees and Asit and Merali met with Krishnaji about his activities next winter and ways to have television interviews. There was a decision to have Krishnamurti Information Centers around the country.’
The thirteenth. ‘The weather was cold but nice. Krishnaji held the third question-and-answer meeting in the Oak Grove. At lunch, there was Asit, Alan K., Michael, and David and Vivian Moody. Without a nap he then saw Ray McCoy who was to teach at Rajghat, and Narayan’s brother Krishnamurti’—that’s another Krishnamurti—‘and then we walked to the dip.’
May fourteenth. ‘I left at 7 a.m. for Malibu, and went to see Elfriede and their house being built in Corral Canyon, then to see Amanda. Phil was ill with a cold. To Henry Bamberger at 11 a.m. about summing up the costs of both the Malibu and Ojai houses, tax matters, etc. Then I had a haircut, bought sandals for Krishnaji and me’—for our upcoming India trip—‘and arranged further car rental for Toodie. I marketed in Malibu on the way home. Got back at 6 p.m. just as Krishnaji was returning from a walk.’
May fifteenth. ‘Krishnaji held another question-and-answer meeting in the Oak Grove. Narayan’s brother, G. Krishnamurti, and professor Khare’—he was an Indian who taught somewhere in Southern California—‘were at lunch. Instead of a walk, he talked to Erna, Theo, Evelyne, and me about starting Krishnamurti Information Centers around the country. Krishnaji and I were both tired.’
The sixteenth. ‘I went to a meeting in the Pavilion of people interested in having Krishnamurti Information Centers in their localities, then lunched at Arya Vihara with the Lilliefelts, the Lees, Hooker, Evelyne, and Ray McCoy. There was a trustee meeting briefly afterward on accepting a house from Essie Bates.’

The next day. ‘A warm beautiful day. Krishnaji gave his fifth talk in the Oak Grove. The audience seemed hypnotized. His voice was very deep and from far off. At 4:30, Krishnaji and I went to a party at the Oak Grove School for helpers and visitors from far away. We stayed half an hour and came home.’
May eighteenth. ‘An even warmer and more beautiful day than yesterday. Krishnaji gave his sixth and final Ojai talk for this year in the Oak Grove. Very wide and a marvelous one on "action, death, and meditation". Toodie, Liddie, and family again attended. At lunch, Dr. Bosak, Mr. Merali, David Moody, and Michael. It was too hot to walk. Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and I sat on the terrace and talked.’
The nineteenth. ‘It was another warm day. I took Krishnaji to the dentist, Dr. Meinig, at 10 a.m. I did errands while he was there. Then, on impulse, we went for a drive up Maricopa Highway. Krishnaji was delighted, and declared it “a place to worship” and “house of the gods.” We came back in time for lunch at Arya Vihara. Bill Burmeister was there, both Moodys, Fritz, Hooker, Erna, Theo, and Michael. In the afternoon I worked on papers at the desk, and organized things to pack. Donald Ingram Smith saw Rajagopal and says he’s giving the archives to the Huntington Library.’ This was a violation of the legal agreement.
May twentieth. ‘I spent much of the day packing. Krishnaji telephoned Rajagopal to say that he had heard about the Huntington Library getting the archives, and it must not be done. Rajagopal said he understood’—which, of course, meant nothing. ‘A letter from Betty Eisner came to me offering to talk to Rajagopal on Krishnaji’s behalf to arrange a meeting.’
The twenty-first. ‘Krishnaji wrote to Rajagopal and had the Lilliefelts, Hooker, and me sign it with him.
May twenty-second at 2:30 p.m. Krishnaji and I left Ojai to the LA airport. Asit met us there. He was coming from San Francisco, and he, Krishnaji, and I took TWA flight at 5:30 p.m. for London.’
The twenty-third. ‘We had little sleep on the plane and arrived at Heathrow at 11:40 a.m. Dorothy and Ingrid met us, and we got to Brockwood a little after 2 p.m. Everyone was out to meet Krishnaji. We had lunch in the West Wing kitchen and slept most of the afternoon. Dr. Parchure has arrived and so has Narayan. I talked to Mary Links.

May twenty-fourth, and we are now at Brockwood. ‘We are all mixed up in time. We unpacked, and napped heavily. After lunch Krishnaji, Dorothy, Whisper, and Kip and I walked in the grove. Everything was in flower, including the handkerchief tree, which was beautiful. The Bohms are here. I finished unpacking.’
The next day. ‘Krishnaji had slept poorly. At the lunch table, Krishnaji, Bohm, and Asit decided to hold a discussion at 4 p.m. to which some of the staff came and the Moorheads, Parchure, Narayan, etc. It went on till 6 p.m. The discussion was set off by a newspaper account of a Japanese doctor saying the brain cells don’t degenerate if a person exercises his brain.’ Quite true.
The twenty-sixth. ‘Monday was a bank holiday. Krishnaji slept eleven hours. It was a quiet day. Asit took pictures of Krishnaji. We all walked.’
May twenty-seventh. ‘Krishnaji didn’t sleep last night. I got our travel tickets at Thomas Cook, and bought some jerseys for Krishnaji. I returned to join Dorothy and Krishnaji on the walk across the fields. I telephoned Dr. Scheef in Bonn and made an appointment for Krishnaji to see him at the end of June.’
The twenty-eighth of May. ‘Krishnaji, Asit, Dr. Parchure, and I went to London on the 10:23 a.m. train from Petersfield. Asit is returning to India. Joe Links met Krishnaji and me, and we lunched with him and Mary at their flat on Hyde Park Street. Mary and I sat and talked while Joe drove Krishnaji to the dentist, Mr. Thompson, then brought him and Dr. Parchure back and took us to Waterloo. We were back at Brockwood in time for a short walk.’
The next day was, ‘a quiet day. I cleaned the guest room in preparation for the Marogers, and made hotel reservations for Krishnaji and me in Bonn and Geneva.’
May thirtieth. ‘The Marogers arrived with Diane for the weekend. I put them in the West Wing. Sunanda and Pama telephoned from London. They just arrived from India, and they’re coming here on June tenth. I had a nap after lunch, a short walk with Krishnaji, and then attended the staff meeting.’
The next day, ‘I telephoned Vanda in Florence, then had a long talk with Marie-Bertrande Maroger. The house is full of people. Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I walked across the fields.’
June first. ‘Krishnaji talked to the school at noon, and then at 4 p.m. did a videotaped discussion with David Bohm and Narayan. We had only a short walk. In the morning, I had a talk with Narayan, and then another with Marie-Bertrande before she, Jean-Michel, and Diane left after supper for the ferry to France. In the evening I spoke to Lisa in Paris. Bud was out.’

The next day was, ‘a hot day. We took the 10:20 a.m. train to London. We shopped at Fortnum, then Mary joined us for lunch. Krishnaji talked to her for the biography, all about the two Rajagopals. He then had a haircut at Truefitt, while I got a pair of black pumps at Ferragamo. We went to Asprey for a new wallet for me, then by taxi to Waterloo.’

June seventh. ‘At 4 p.m., Krishnaji, David Bohm, and Narayan held a videotaped discussion. After that, Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I walked with the dogs. Mar de Manziarly telephoned from Paris. She cannot come to Gstaad because she has a heart condition. She will see us in Geneva.’

June twelfth. ‘I met Mary Cadogan at the Petersfield station, and brought her back to Brockwood for a Saanen Gatherings meeting, which consisted of Mary Cadogan, Dorothy, Gisèle Balleys, and Brian Jenkins. Mary Links with Amanda, and the Digbys came to lunch. Afterward, there was a publication committee meeting with Sunanda and Pama. At last, after about eight years, a publishing agreement between KF India and KFT was made.’ ‘Krishnaji came in afterward. George Digby argued with Krishnaji about some of his statements. Example: 'God' is total disorder.’ George couldn’t stomach that. ‘Krishnaji and I went for a short walk.’
The next day ‘I looked at a videotaped Bernard Levin interview to decide whether to advise Krishnaji to let Levin interview him for the BBC. I felt generally in favor.’ I wasn’t a big enthusiast, but I thought it was better to do it than not do it.

The twenty-first. ‘I went to Petersfield for some household items. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji spoke to the staff on 'silence', and (insightful) perception versus ordinary thinking. Perhaps thinking, if much energy and interest is put into it, can bring about perception.’
June twenty-second. ‘Rita Zampese brought Krishnaji’s and my railroad tickets to go from Bonn to Geneva. At noon, Krishnaji spoke to the school on values, and living without them. He had a slow, far-off voice, and was very quiet. He felt it should be printed. It “touched on new things,” he said. The walk was with Krishnaji, Dorothy, and me. In the evening, there was a school concert. Krishnaji was tired and didn’t go.’

June twenty-third. ‘There were rain showers most of the day. On the early news on the radio I heard that Sanjay Gandhi had been killed in a small plane crash. I went and told Krishnaji, who was doing pranayama with Dr. Parchure. Krishnaji nodded gravely and went on with his breathing exercise. I also told Sunanda, who was very shocked,  and Pama. Later, Krishnaji sent a cable to Pupul saying, “Please give Mrs. Gandhi my profound sympathy and affection.” Sunanda and Pama saw Krishnaji and me off to London: they and Merali waited for him to come down the staircase in the full elegance of his London clothes and umbrella.’ and Pama then left with Merali for Belgium, where they will visit him and his wife, then go to Paris for the weekend, and then drive with Merali’s nephew to Gstaad. Krishnaji and I took the 10:23 a.m. train to London, and Joe Links met us at Waterloo. He gave me a copy of his new book, Travels in Europe.’ As well as art books, Joe wrote travel books, very good ones, particularly about Venice. That was his specialty. ‘They dropped me at Sotheby’s, where I left a large book of lithographs and poems donated in France for the Rajghat Sanjeevan Hospital. Someone, I can’t remember who, donated it. ‘If it sells, it will be in the fall. Meanwhile, Krishnaji fitted at Huntsman, where I joined him, after which we walked to the pen shop in the Burlington Arcade, where his Lamy pen was fixed and he bought a spare.’ He liked to look at the pens there. ‘Then to lunch with Mary at Fortnum. He told her if he were writing the biography of himself, he would want to write about how “this mind” came to be untouched. It was raining, and Joe very kindly drove Krishnaji to the dentist and then afterward to Waterloo. We were back by 5:20 p.m.’

The twenty-fourth. ‘I packed and did laundry all day. A 'mad' group from Barcelona had invaded Brockwood yesterday while we were in London, and were insisting on seeing Krishnaji.’ They insisted on giving him a message. He agreed to see them briefly at 4 p.m. There were three men and a woman, a wife of one of the men, and it turned out that it was she who had a message for Krishnaji. She said that Master Morya told her on the astral plane to tell Krishnaji that he is too intellectual, hard, and has no love. Also that Saanen is finished. He should talk in Barcelona. When Krishnaji said he didn’t believe a word of all this, that it was nonsense, she sobbed that it was making her suffer that he didn’t do what was said. ‘People are mad everywhere, but the Spanish ones seem to gravitate toward Krishnaji. The older man has given Krishnaji nine of his books. We walked later and finished packing at midnight.’
.

June twenty-fifth. ‘I finished the laundry, and doing some kitchen and other household things right up to our departure at 11 a.m. Dorothy drove us to Heathrow, with Stephen Smith bringing our four bags in another car. The countryside was glowing from all the rain. The fields of barley are green to yellow to orange all at once. A most breathtaking beauty. At Heathrow, Rita Zampese met us and, as we were flying on Lufthansa, her company’. ‘She had very kindly booked our train and tickets, too, from Bonn to Geneva. And today eshe scorted Krishnaji and me right into our seats on the plane.’ It was nice of her indeed. ‘An hour’s flight and we landed in Cologne. Krishnaji all alive and watching with a look of a child having fun.’ ‘The speedometer touched 160 km, and Krishnaji seemed pleased. Germany is the land of Mercedes. We are again at the Hotel Bristol in what looks like the same stolid but quiet rooms, numbers 704 and 705, of our last visit. We both fell asleep, and it wasn’t until I woke up and went into Krishnaji’s room that I saw he had slept in a chair instead of the bed. He said, “I was too tired to take off my shoes and trousers, so I stayed in the chair.”’ ‘We had dinner in the large, ugly, and ornate hotel dining room where the same Indian headwaiter coped with our vegetarianism.’
The twenty-sixth. ‘Krishnaji slept “so-so.” He said, “It’s an odd thing, I meditate more easily here than at Brockwood. I woke up around 4 a.m., meditated, read, meditated. There, I think it’s because there are too many boys and girls with their problems.
‘I said, “But this is a hotel full of people.”’ ‘Krishnaji replied, “Yes, but it’s impersonal. I cleansed the room and it’s alright. I watched the trains go by. I should have 'cleaned' your room.”’ . Brockwood is not a sacred place like Ojai, like your big room.”’ ‘Then I say, “The Grove is sacred.” Krishnaji’s face lighting up, replied, “Oh, the Grove. Yes.”’
‘Me speaking: “Couldn’t we make the house part of it sacred?”’
‘Krishnaji: “You can’t make these things. There I try to meditate, but it doesn’t come.”’
‘M: “Has it always been like this at Brockwood?”’
‘Krishnaji: “More or less.”’
‘M: “It would be interesting to see if it were different when the house is empty.”’
‘Krishnaji: “Oh, that might be different.” He put on a new dressing gown made by a tailor in Madras, he had two pillows, one small, that were uncomfortable— but he did nothing to rearrange them, like sleeping in the chair yesterday ‘He has no physical instinct to make himself comfortable. He just endures the discomfort. We went to Dr. Scheef at 10 a.m. Krishnaji had blood and urine tests. Dr. Scheef felt the place in Krishnaji’s abdomen where Dr. Parchure felt a lump and prescribed X-rays tomorrow morning. As it was raining, we spent most of the day in the hotel, sleeping and reading. It cleared at 5 p.m., and we went for a walk and to buy fruit—cherries, nectarines, peaches, and fragrant strawberries. We came back and ate them in our rooms before dining downstairs. At supper’—oh, this is nice, I remember this—‘Krishnaji made up a science fiction story. In his story, everyone in the world, in the local language, heard a voice say, “We’ve had enough. You have a week to make peace, open your borders, dissolve your arms, and learn to live together. This is God speaking.”’ I remember it so well. ‘“If people didn’t respond properly, all the trains in the world would stop for one hour.”’ ‘“What next? They have to be threatened with something or they won’t listen.” We never figured out the next step, as it had to be one that wouldn’t hurt anyone. But Krishnaji was full of laughter at the voice in every place. The House of Commons, the Kremlin, the White House, the Congress, the Vatican, in every house, in forests, remote deserts, everywhere.’ [Both laugh.] ‘We had crème caramel and went off to read and sleep. Tomorrow went round in my head.’ He had fun making up these wondrous, fanciful things. There was another time when all guns wouldn’t shoot. This took place in the dining room in this rather stately, dreary hotel.
June twenty-seventh. ‘No breakfast before the doctor’s exam. We got to the clinic at 8:30 a.m. Krishnaji had an abdominal X-ray, having to swallow some liquid—barium or an equivalent—which luckily didn’t make him vomit. That was soon over. Next an injection of whatever makes the liver show up, and a liver scan was done; all remarkably quickly. But this was followed by over an hour’s wait in Dr. Scheef’s office. Jean-Michel had sent me this morning reports of medical tests on Diane in case Dr. Scheef had any light to throw. He has a colleague who is doing some research on Diane’s condition. The colleague said that at present, there is nothing beyond what her doctor, at Mount Sinai in New York, would know; but Dr. Scheef will be kept informed and let the Marogers know if there is any development.’
‘At last, Scheef returned and said that Krishnaji’s occasional pain and lump in the abdomen is a diaphragmatic hernia and nothing of consequence. A towering relief for me. Though, when the possibilities flew like crows in my head last night, I somehow felt it would not be serious. His kidneys, spleen, liver, pancreas are all fine. The liver is not enlarged as one of those quacks suggested. Knowing all this from Scheef is enormous peace of mind. He gave us, for free, 700 Wobenzyms and 800 tablets for me. Also we got Krishnaji 500 pink pills, against hay fever, but these we must pay for: 225 Deutche marks.’
‘On the way back to the hotel, Krishnaji asked me what I would have done if he had had a malignancy. Apparently he would have left it to me.’ ‘Later he said he couldn’t put such a responsibility on me. He would decide, but with my advice. We rested in the afternoon, then went to pay the Apotheker for the 500 pink pills, and to buy some more cherries. At supper, Krishnaji continued his plans for reforming humanity. Since it doesn’t act properly, the gods’—it seems there are a bunch of them—‘put one god in charge of humanity. And so the question is how to make them reform.’ Krishnaji figured out the way gods can stop man’s bad behavior. ‘“They must choose. We cannot do it for them.”…“I must find the way.” Then after a while, he said, “I think I’ve got it. There are the good guys and the bad guys. Up to forty years of age, everyone can choose to be good; and those that do, live on to be very old, maybe 150, free from disease. At age thirty-five, the bad guys have five

'...) At age thirty-five, the bad guys have five years; and if they do nothing bad in these five years, they are in the good column. But if they do wrong, they die at forty. Anyone who has made it past forty and does wrong dies right away.”’ He enlarged on all this with a mischievous look.’ That was all so... humorous.
The twenty-eighth. ‘We checked out of the Bristol Hotel and walked to the station, a hotel man following with our luggage. We took the TEE train “Rheingold,” which goes along the Rhine. The train was late due to damage it incurred in Amsterdam, and there was no dining car because that was one of the cars injured in Amsterdam, so no lunch. The Rhine river was gray. The sky was gray. Krishnaji watched it but I sank into a book. As we neared Basel, we neared our first problem. There, the train was to split in two parts, and our part was to be uncoupled and left. We had been unable to get seats in Bonn in the forward cars that would go on to Berne, but as people got off before that, we thought we might be able to find seats when we got to Basel. The problem waS how to get our four bags forward four cars in 3 minutes while the train stopped in Basel.’ So, at the end of the carriages there’s a little place for the door to get out. We got there with the bags. ‘We got set on our mark there and the instant the train stopped, Krishnaji rushed to find a porter—none—or a cart. He found the latter. I dragged the bags off the train onto it and we raced forward with the trainmen helping us, and got onto the Berne section just as the uncoupling clanged apart. We were off to Berne, but, of course, there was the same problem there for the train to Geneva. Again, we got a cart and loaded it, but had time, as there was a wait for the new train. I eyed a robust-looking Indian in a turban to help get our bags on the train, but Krishnaji wouldn’t let me ask for his help.’ ‘Then I saw a tall, rather distinguished-looking Swiss Army officer and I asked him for his help. He lifted one bag in and other people helped with the rest and finally we made it. We were on the Geneva train in Switzerland rolling through the familiar neatness and beauty of the Swiss landscape.’ I remember saying to this Swiss Army officer, “Sir, I am traveling with a very distinguished gentleman who is not very strong.” And then he rather aloofly but very politely helped.

I mention the beauty of the Swiss landscape; then I write, ‘I seem to have a closed mind in Germany. I do not know the place, but bad associations float up. Waiting for the train in Bonn, a closed goods train came rushing through, and the dark image of the war and of Jews packed into such a train was there for me. So it was good to roll along toward Geneva and finally to arrive at the Hôtel des Bergues, where we had immaculate, newly decorated rooms. We unpacked, changed, and by 7:30 were quietly, comfortably having a delicious dinner in the Amphytrion Restaurant. Neither of us had been hungry all day but after all the exertions, it was a very pleasant dinner. Krishnaji says I must not worry when traveling with him. All will turn out all right. But I do not think train rides will be our choice in the future when laden with luggage.’
‘There was a note waiting for us when we got to the Hôtel des Bergues from Gisèle Balleys that Mr. Rusu died yesterday’— a Romanian. A nice, nice man.

June twenty-ninth. ‘A quiet, restful day. I read and wrote letters in the morning. We lunched in the Amphytrion, and rested all afternoon. Went for a small walk at six. It’s pleasant to rest, read, and do nothing all day. Dined in the Amphytrion,  and so to bed. I have a cold but it’s not too bad. Mar de Manziarly telephoned. She lunches with us tomorrow.’
The thirtieth. ‘We went to Jacquet, where Krishnaji chose silks for neckties for himself and Joe Links. Mar de Manziarly came to lunch. She has had heart trouble, so she cannot go to Saanen because of the altitude and is staying here with Marianne Borel in Geneva.’ ‘Krishnaji put his hands to help her. Then we all lunched in the Amphytrion. Krishnaji was rather distrait. ‘We invited her to Brockwood so Krishnaji can treat her daily for a while. It was a rather bleak lunch but the food pleased. After a nap, Krishnaji and I went to Patek for a watch check, then to Grand Passage, where we got a wristwatch for Krishnaji to give Chinna.’ I think he was a servant. ‘We also got a dress for Fosca and a blouse for Filomena. We dined quietly, and then to bed. At supper, Krishnaji spoke of the Rosalind and Rajagopal days from 1935 to 1947: the quarrels, Rajagopal’s angers, both trying to humiliate him in public, ordering him around. She knocked Krishnaji down the stairs at Arya Vihara and luckily Weideman caught him’—that was a man that used to live around here. ‘“They must’ve thought I was an idiot to put up with it,” he said. “If my mind worked then as it does now, I would have said, ‘Enough. Go, both of you.’ I could have then. I still had the power. Ammah”’—that’s Mrs. Besant—‘“had told me, ‘You are the ultimate head.’ It was before Rajagopal got control.”’ ‘I asked, “Why didn’t you?”’
‘Krishnaji replied, “I just didn’t care. That was the way it was. I accepted it. Once Rajagopal had been angry, [and] I told him he was a bully and he piped down. The next day it was the same thing all over again.”’
July first. ‘We rested, packed, and had lunch in the Amphytrion. At 3:30 p.m., Hertz delivered a beige Ford Fiesta, and we set off for Gstaad via the Route du Lac to Morges and then over to the road to Oron, Bulle and so through the valley, arriving, as always, in rain. Gstaad has more snow on the mountains than I can remember in July. We were at Tannegg by 6:20 p.m. Vanda and Fosca had arrived on Sunday. So another summer here begins.’

M: July second. ‘Rain. I slept till 8:30 a.m. There was a letter from Erna with a memorandum of a meeting with Stanley Cohen, our KFA lawyer, about Rajagopal giving the archives to the Huntington Library. Cohen advised, and Erna, Theo, and Alan Hooker concur, that we must act to stop Rajagopal or we risk losing our rights under the settlement agreement. The possible steps were outlined, all involving going to court. It will be costly, but all feel it is necessary. Krishnaji concurs strongly and so I wrote this to Erna. I did shopping in the morning. Krishnaji stayed in bed. He gave me some of the precious pink pills for hay fever from Scheef, and they seem to help my cold
July third. ‘I ran errands in the morning, then brought Sunanda and Pama up to lunch. It was Vanda’s first meeting with the Patwardhans, and Krishnaji came in before and after, but lunched alone on a tray in his room. Krishnaji had put his hands on Sunanda and will do so every day to help her arthritis. Vanda immediately set to stretching her knee where the pain is located.’ You were in terrible peril of Vanda attacking you with her yoga. I finally cured her of it by just relentless resistance. At least for me. ‘In the evening, Radha Burnier arrived at the Patwardhans’ chalet where she is staying, and telephoned Krishnaji. He came into the living room to take the call and, of course, it was to tell him that she had been elected president of the Theosophical Society. She won with 9,300 votes to Rukmini’s 5,400. Krishnaji said, “Good,”’ ‘and when he hung up, he said, “Now I can walk through the TS instead of on that filthy road.”’ He would never walk through it because they’d thrown him out or wouldn’t let him live there. So he would walk around it on the filthy road to get to the beach. ‘He is pleased. He also had a gleam in his eye denoting something. We will see.’ I don’t know what that means.

July fourth. ‘The crazy Spaniards who came to Brockwood are at Saanen led by the little old man who calls himself Jaime Escoi. A second man, something Conola, came with letters to Tannegg this morning demanding to see Krishnaji. I sent them away. Shortly after a letter came, saying Krishnaji had talked to him on the astral plane. Krishnaji’s mission in Saanen is finished and it is now in Spain, etc. Then came a telegram from Escoi saying Krishnaji’s health decreases from day to day from his obstinacy and he will die here since he is separating himself from Scorpio and other gibberish.’ They used to call me up and say, “He didn’t look very well in the tent this morning.” In that tone of voice and I finally said: “Do not call again,” and hung up. ‘I went to the tent in the morning to see how things are coming, and there talked to Gisèle, etcetera. Dorothy came by. Montague is ill but medicine given by a Saanen doctor has helped. Radha, Pama, and Sunanda came to lunch. Krishnaji congratulated the president with much teasing and laughter. Radha said she won clearly in India and Europe, but only by four votes in the U.S.’ ‘Some of Rukmini’s more heated followers may contest it but cannot alter the outcome. She is calm about it all, laughing like a young girl at Krishnaji’s jokes and teasing. He asked her what she wanted to do with the TS and then answered for her: to call in the heads of it and end divisions, beliefs, etc. and rapidly the subject turned to what it is that has made mankind get caught in conflict, knowledge, etc. There was the usual references to what tradition has said, etc. and, as always, they were found wanting. Krishnaji tentatively brought up man’s struggle for survival in which knowledge was necessary and this invaded the psychological field. Krishnaji ate alone but talked most of the afternoon with Radha and the rest of us. His voice was less hoarse.’

 ‘I got Krishnaji a navy waterproof warm jacket, which he likes very much, as well as a heavy cotton training suit. Also pleasing. Sunanda came for treatment at 4 p.m. accompanied by Pama and Radha. There was more of yesterday’s conversation on man’s entrapment in the field of knowledge and what went wrong with humanity. Radha had got through by telephone to Adyar, and Mr. Surendra Narayan, the vice president. She will leave here Friday for Adyar. Krishnaji gives signs of interest in the TS as if it were something he could capture and change.’ ‘I have some misgivings about his understanding of how misinterpreted any connection between him and the TS can be.’
July sixth. ‘There was fog and rain. Over Vanda’s protest, I drove her and Parchure to the tent, and then came back to drive Krishnaji there. A very fine talk  laid the direction of the series  the horrors and sufferings in the world, the kidnappings, terrorism, cruelty of man, of man’s doing, how did this come about, the dependence on knowledge, is thought the cause of it? It was raining when Krishnaji finished and he got right into the car. He had lunch on a tray, and there were no guests. Krishnaji and I went for our first walk, which was in the rain up the hill and through the woods, picking our way through mud as we had never seen it there.’
‘Krishnaji’s voice was clear and strong this morning, and he was warm, comfortable, and handsome in his new navy waterproof jacket. In the earlier afternoon, the French-speaking Spaniard had telephoned saying the old one, Escoi, had seen that Krishnaji’s health is deteriorating and when would we see them. I said Krishnaji wished no communication whatsoever with them. Another crazy telegram came within an hour and during supper. Both of them, plus a third man, arrived at the doorstep. I blew up and said everything I could think of in French. They said they loved Krishnaji. I said to insult and attempt to harass and ignore his replies and say he would die if he didn’t agree to their demands was hardly love. They went on about master Kuthumi and I said all this was déséquilibré et fantaisie and to stop the nonsense of telegrams. It would be on my head, they said, and that we would hear no more. Krishnaji laughed when I reported it all and said, “This is old stuff. This is what Arundale did to me.” Vanda said they weren’t bad, they were stupid. Once again defending persons who attack Krishnaji. She appears to view no one as having any animosity. It is because they love him, said she. That is their pretension, said I. What, in fact, they are up to is aggression to get their own way. But what I discussed later with Dr. Parchure is the growing prevalence of people plunging into occult fantasies and seeking satisfaction in unrealities rather than the old physical pleasures. Delusions proliferate and does Theosophy give 'orthodoxy' to all this? I touched on this with Krishnaji, who said I knew nothing of real Theosophy, that it was Leadbeater who encouraged all this. I didn’t pursue it then, but my question remains.’
July seventh. ‘Touches of sun at last. I ran errands in the morning, then Radha, Sunanda, and Pama came to lunch. Krishnaji joined us afterward and there was talk most of the afternoon. Krishnaji inquired what sort of persons Radha thought the early TS people were. Olcott was a good organizer, she said. I asked if Blavatsky had something original or only put together various beliefs.

July 8-th ‘Krishnaji gave the second Saanen talk.  He continued the exploration of the causes of man’s violence, conflict, thought. “Allegiance to anything is the beginning of corruption.” Both Kossiakofs came to lunch. Nicolas is almost blind. He is very pessimistic about the world. Economic disintegration, he feels, is inevitable. I drove them back to Caprice where they were staying. Radha, Sunanda, and Pama came to tea. Krishnaji came in from the nap at 5 p.m. He treated Sunanda but he was too tired for a walk and it was also too late.
July ninth. ‘Krishnaji said this morning that meditation came so strongly in the night that at 1:30 a.m., he had to sit up. At lunch was Simonetta, who has completed her work for the Tibetans near Mysore and in September will go to Pakistan to help with Afghan refugees, and Suad Al Radhi bringing gifts of Iraqi glass, dates, and other sweets from Beirut, and Frances McCann. Vanda invited Dr. Frederick Leboyer for coffee.’ He was that 'birthing' expert who was advising everybody. ‘He took center stage and talked of his learning to sing in Madras, to study breathing; and now his maternity patients are to sing instead of scream when they give birth.’ Always something nutty comes out of it. ‘Krishnaji sat politely silent through all this and then we went off for a walk to Alpina and back, neither of us caring for Leboyer. A phony, we thought. Naudé in London may come here.’

The tenth: ‘Rain. Krishnaji’s third Saanen talk. Radha, Sunanda, Pama came to lunch, after which I took them home. Sunanda and Pama returned later as Leboyer was to demonstrate and teach his singing. Frances was there, too. He clammed up in front of the Indians, so they, Krishnaji, and I left him with Vanda and Frances, the two enthusiasts.’ ‘Krishnaji and I walked to the Palace Hotel and back.

July eleventh, 1980, and we’re in Gstaad for the Saanen talks. My diary reads:‘At 10 a.m., Mary Cadogan, Jane Hammond, and Scott came. Mary and I discussed Saanen matters. At 11 a.m., there was the annual meeting of the various international committees and foundations. Krishnaji had Sunanda describe the work in India. Then he called for greater communication between everyone and described the new Krishnaji Information Centers in the U.S. I left at 5 p.m. to pick up Krishnaji, who had walked down the hill to have his hair cut by Monsieur Nicolas in Gstaad. The mad Spaniards came to the house.’ Oh, lord. ‘And after a long discussion on the doorstep, they shook hands, accepting that Krishnaji will not talk to them or come to Barcelona.’

The thirteenth. ‘Rain. Krishnaji gave the fourth Saanen talk. Nadia Kossiakof came at 3:30 p.m. to talk to me and to Krishnaji at 4 p.m. Sunanda and Pama brought a Romanian lady, Magda (Grohe ? ) Sichitiu, and her little girl, Rukmini, who share their chalet. Krishnaji talked to them. Magda was actually introduced to Krishnaji and his teachings by Silvius Russu, because Silvius Russu was a long-standing friend of her parents.

 The fourteenth. ‘There was some sun today. I ran errands, and Asit telephoned from Singapore to say he is coming here from August ninth to the thirteenth. The Marogers came to lunch. Krishnaji talked alone with Marie-Bertrande and put his hands, as she had been sick last night. Sunanda, Pama, Mary Cadogan, and Dorothy came for coffee. Also at 2:30 p.m., a Madame Nefferts of Swiss German television came with Gisèle Balleys, Ulrich Bruger, and a Mr. Schneider to talk to me about a program on Krishnaji. I agreed to it, so they will videotape in the tent tomorrow and have a short video interview with Krishnaji here at Tannegg afterwards. I fell asleep for a short time, then took the Patwardhans home while Krishnaji went for a ride to Lauenen with the Marogers. They leave tomorrow. Krishnaji and I walked to the river. One of two non-rainy days we’ve had.’
July fifteenth. ‘The rain returned. Krishnaji gave his fifth Saanen talk. It was filmed unobtrusively by the German Swiss TV company. At 3:30 p.m., the television crew set up in the living room at Tannegg, and at 4 p.m., Madame Nefferts did a fifteen-minute filmed interview with him, asking three questions.’ ‘it will be broadcast in September. I joined Krishnaji on the walk to the Alpina Road’—that was sort of a loop for a short walk, it was peaceful—‘as it was too wet to walk in the woods. They are widening the road below the Meurice Hotel, destroying a stone wall, trees, and its narrowness, and with it the sense I get there of an old-fashioned middle-Europe look. The smallness of the road was its character.’
The next day. ‘Still another gray, wet morning. Vanda left on the 7 a.m. train for Florence. Fosca says the secretary telephoned her yesterday and that Vanda’s brother, who was in very poor health, wants to see her, but as she’s coming today not to tell her. She went off without breakfast, independent in a taxi, and Fosca wept. “La Signora,” she wept, “vive come una zingara.”’ That means the signora lives like a gypsy.
‘It was quiet in the house. Krishnaji is also concerned about Vanda.

‘At 4:30, both Siddoo sisters came for two hours. They asked Krishnaji if he had lost interest in their school. He said they must keep in closer contact with him. Sarjit tried to get him to make a tour of Canada. I reminded her that here, at Tannegg, it was agreed when they first spoke of their school that they undertook it knowing that Krishnaji couldn’t be there. Krishnaji said that he wants to live another ten or fifteen years, and if he travels more than now, that will not be possible. So no question of speaking across Canada. Sarjit, full of “yes, buts,” pointed to his going to Ceylon this year. Krishnaji said he last spoke there in the early ’50s. They have asked him back ever since, and so this year he will go. Sarjit then denied she had said Krishnaji should speak across Canada—only in Vancouver. Krishnaji left it open, but with no commitment. After two hours, they left in Jackie’s newly bought Mercedes. She has become a Swiss resident and bought a flat in Gstaad. There’s lesser Canadian income tax if you live abroad. Both sisters feel their school is now going well. They feel attached to the bone, and that David Bohm made the difference in the school improving. Sunanda had a treatment from Krishnaji, and then there was no time left for a walk. It rained, anyway.’

July seventeenth. ‘There was a little less rain today. Krishnaji gave his sixth talk. I fetched Anneke up to lunch. There was just Krishnaji, she, and I at the table. Anneke was full of talk about a Dutch psychiatrist, Jan Foudraine, a Rajneesh follower. Anneke kept saying “Bhagwan,” which tightened Krishnaji’s face fastidiously’ , ‘and Foudraine came at 4 p.m. for an interview with Krishnaji. A large, gray-haired man with a beard and the rusty costume with beads and locket. He was with Krishnaji until 5:30 p.m. Half an hour before he left, Sunanda and Pama came. After Foudraine left, Krishnaji, they, and I sat and talked till after 7 p.m. with much laughter, Krishnaji’s face alight with amusement. It was too late for a walk, so he sat on though it was late, after which he was essentially tired. I hoped the fun would take the place of the good of a walk.’

The eighteenth. ‘In the morning, I did errands. The Patwardhans came to lunch. A letter came to Krishnaji from Rajagopal, written July ninth in reply to Krishnaji’s from Ojai of May twenty-first, saying that he’—that means Rajagopal—‘had never violated the settlement agreement. That he had collected correspondence and other items for over sixty years as a 'personal project’ and that “neither you nor any organization has any valid claim to them.”’ That’s Rajagopal’s letter. ‘Furthermore, he said that he’—Rajagopal—‘is willing to “join hands once again if you will ask your trustees to cease their harassment of the K and R Foundation.” There was also a two-page letter to Krishnaji dated June twenty-third and sent to Brockwood, signed by Austin Bee, Mima Porter, and Annie Vigeveno, obviously written by Rajagopal (his style is very evident), and it mentioned a stonewall on everything. It begins, “Dear Mr. Krishnamurti,” and is insulting. A copy came to me as a trustee. The Patwardhans lunched with Krishnaji and me and the letters were read to them. At 3:30 p.m. I drove them to Saanenmöser for another getting-together of the foreign committees. Mary Cadogan has left, but Dorothy was there. There was mostly talk about how Krishnaji Information Centers should work.
As today was the last of the talks, Krishnaji joined at the table. Merali had brought two Indian dishes. After they left, Sunanda had a healing, then I drove her and Pama to their chalet. I came back and took a nap. There was a windstorm that woke up both Krishnaji and me, but we were both tired, so we didn’t go for a walk. I am clamped into a thriller, The Bourne Identity by R. Ludlum.’
The next day. ‘There was rain and fog.’ ‘I worked at the desk all morning. There was just Krishnaji, Parchure, and I at lunch. There was talk of kundalini, and I recorded part of it. We were interrupted by Brian Jenkins wishing to mediate between the Bangalore school and KFI. Robin Chavreul, his wife, and baby came to greet Krishnaji. Sunanda came for healing. I took her home. There was no rest for Krishnaji.’

The twenty-third. ‘It was a beautiful day. Krishnaji held the first of five question-and-answer sessions. He’s taking only written questions, and he answered three today, most marvelously.
July twenty-fourth. ‘The weather is fine, and Krishnaji had the second, very good, question-and-answer meeting. We had a quiet lunch with no guests. Sunanda and Pama came to see Krishnaji about India in the afternoon.
The twenty-fifth. ‘Krishnaji held the third question-and-answer meeting. They go very well. After it, Sunanda and Pama came to Tannegg to say goodbye, then left for Geneva and India. There was no one else at lunch. At 4:30 p.m., Krishnaji saw a young German, Theo Metzinger, and had him see Dr. Parchure. Krishnaji and I walked to the river.’
July twenty-sixth. ‘Krishnaji held the fourth question meeting. Before it, I made an appeal for funds. What was needed for this year was Swiss francs 40,000, and we really need 6,000 more to make up that sum. Rita Zampese came to lunch with Krishnaji and me. After an nap and a walk with Krishnaji to the river, I sorted questions for tomorrow and Krishnaji dictated some.’
The twenty-seventh. ‘Krishnaji held the fifth and final question-and-answer meeting, which wound up this year’s Saanen Gathering. Krishnaji answered eight written questions.
July twenty-eighth. ‘It was a sunny quiet day. The tent is down. The donations reached 45,000 Swiss francs yesterday and people are leaving.’

August first. ‘This is a Swiss national holiday. It was warm and clear. I did letters all day. Krishnaji slept two hours in the afternoon and didn’t feel like a walk.’
The second of August. ‘It was another hot day. Krishnaji began dictating Letters to the Schools again. Today’s was number thirty-eight, the first since before his going to India last year.’ At 4:30 p.m., Krishnaji came with me to the village to order’ a new Philips razor and look at Omega watches. It is too hot for a walk, and Krishnaji is tired
The third. ‘Again, it was hot. I did letters all morning. At lunch, Krishnaji asked Dr. Parchure and me what is the right thing to do with those, as in India, who make sacrifices, give up jobs, etcetera and come to him. The conversation lasted three hours. It was exhausting. Krishnaji rejected all practical considerations and said I was not going with his thought. It was too late for a walk when we stopped talking, and too hot.’
August fourth. ‘It is slightly cooler today. I again spent the morning doing letters. We sat only one hour at lunch, timed by Krishnaji.’ ‘Krishnaji and I went for a walk in the woods.’ ‘There was a letter from Sunanda saying that Radha gave a press conference in Madras on her becoming president and said the future of the Theosophical Society is to follow the teachings of Krishnamurti.’
The fifth. ‘It is a little cooler. I did letters all morning and went to Saanen for fruit in the afternoon. Krishnaji and I walked twice through the words in the late afternoon. He was tired but he had rested all day.’
August sixth. ‘I plowed through the letter pile, and the end is in sight!’ Krishnaji did three laps through the woods in the cool of the afternoon.’ That means going through the woods and turning around, just staying in the shade.

The seventh. ‘It was a cooler, beautiful morning. Krishnaji dictated letters to Erna about Rajagopal’s letter to him of July ninth, and the K and R trustees’ insulting letter of June twenty-third. Cohen has had no reply from Rajagopal’s lawyer, Christensen. Krishnaji did other letters, including replying to Radha’s letter of invitation to visit Adyar when he is in Madras. I typed most of the day. ‘At 4:30 p.m., Krishnaji and I went for a walk to the river. Krishnaji twice said on the way back that it had tired him. “No more on the river road,” he says.’
 August eighth. ‘There was heavy rain, then it cleared. I finished typing and posting letters, then marketed and took Fosca down to the village. I also took Krishnaji to look at razors.’ Then we walked only in the woods. I got two aerograms from Amanda.’
The ninth. ‘Asit and Minakshi telephoned from Geneva, and I arranged to meet them from the 2:30 p.m. train. I have rented a bedroom and bathroom in the downstairs east flat for them. Asit bought me a Nikon F3 camera body only in Singapore.’ He was forever talking about the latest Nikon, and Krishnaji was always cheering me on get one, and then objecting when I wanted to use it on him. I would say, “My only interest is in photographing you, and I don’t need a new one to do it.” Later, after 5 p.m., Krishnaji, Asit, and I walked just to the edge of the river and back, not up the road. Krishnaji said he was tired in the evening.’

August tenth. ‘Krishnaji slept well but didn’t feel like exercise. I took the Chandmals for a drive in the morning. We all napped in the afternoon, then had a walk in the woods. The Chandmals and I dined with Suzanne and Hugues van der Straten and went to a Menuhin concert. The students of Menuhin School played. Alain telephoned from Vanda’s in Florence, saying that he is arriving by train here tomorrow.’
The eleventh. ‘I took the Chandmals to the village shopping, and met Alain at 11:30 a.m. He has the little room off the dining room to stay in. All were at the lunch table. Much homeopathy talk. Krishnaji, Asit, Alain, and I went for a walk three times through the woods.’

August thirteenth. ‘I took the Chandmals to the 7:45 a.m. train; they fly to London, New York, San Francisco, and then come back to Brockwood on September fifth. I went with Alain as he shopped in the village. Krishnaji, Alain, Dr. Parchure, and I lunched in. Jackie Siddoo presented financial accounts of the Wolf Lake School at 4:30 p.m., and I had supper at Jackie’s. Alain left on the 8:50 p.m. train for London.’
The next day was ‘a clear, cloudless day, so after breakfast, Dr. Parchure and I went up the Diablerets. This was his first touch of snow.’ ‘We got back in time for lunch. I marketed, then walked with Krishnaji through the woods.’
The fifteenth. ‘I ran errands in the morning, and in the afternoon went with Krishnaji to the village for a new razor and to have his hair cut. At 5 p.m., Suzanne and Hugues came and, in spite of the rain, we all went for a walk through the woods.’

August twentieth. ‘Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and I left Vanda, Fosca, and Tannegg at 7:50 a.m. and drove via Pillon and Aigle to the Geneva airport. We flew on Swiss Air at 1:20 p.m. to Heathrow, arriving at 3 p.m. Dorothy in the Cortina and others met us, and by 5 p.m., we were back at Brockwood. We went for a short walk in the grove and had supper at 6 p.m. Krishnaji ate downstairs in the school dining room again.’
August twenty-first. ‘I spent most of the day unpacking and putting things in order. Instead of a walk, Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I worked in the grove pulling brambles, nettles, and dead rhododendron blossoms. Krishnaji had supper downstairs.’
The twenty-second. ‘Krishnaji rested, and lunched in bed. I went to Alresford and Winchester in the afternoon. Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I worked again in the grove and Krishnaji had supper in the dining room.’
Then for the next three days, Krishnaji mostly rested.
On August twenty-sixth, ‘Krishnaji and I went to London on the 10:23 a.m. train. Joe Links met us.’ ‘Krishnaji gave him the Jacquet ties he had had made for him. Krishnaji went to Huntsman and I to Wallace Heaton.’ That’s a place that sells photographic equipment. ‘I purchased lenses for the Nikon F3. Then I met Krishnaji at Huntsman and we walked to Fortnum, where Mary lunched with us. Krishnaji and I walked back to Wallace Heaton, where I paid for equipment after trading in my Leicaflex, and we then took a taxi to Waterloo, so back to Brockwood by 6 p.m.’

The next day. ‘ Danah Zohar Marshall and husband interviewed Krishnaji in the afternoon for the Sunday Times. It was too wet to walk. People are arriving for the Brockwood Gathering.’
August thirtieth. ‘It was cloudy, then clear. Krishnaji gave his first Brockwood talk at 11:30 a.m. We had fruit and salad upstairs, and then went to the tent briefly for the hot course. Both took naps, then we took a short walk. I invited Margaret Dodd to spend the night in the West Wing guest room. She came to talk and to show a proposal for photos and text for a Krishnaji book to the publication committee.’
The thirty-first. ‘Perfect weather. Krishnaji gave the second Brockwood talk, a very fine one. Mary and Joe came, and they had fruit and salad with Krishnaji and me upstairs. Margaret Dodd presented her book proposal to Krishnaji and the publication committee. Mary and I had coffee and talked before she and Joe left.’
September first. ‘I sorted questions that had been handed in, and Krishnaji chose ones for tomorrow. We walked in the grove and did some work there.’
The next day, ‘Krishnaji held the first question-and-answer meeting  in the tent. We lunched upstairs and then he returned to the tent briefly for the hot food, as usual. We walked in the afternoon.’
The next day, ‘Krishnaji dictated letters, rested, and chose questions for tomorrow’s question-and-answer meeting. And the day after, he held that meeting, and answered nine questions.’

The seventh. ‘Krishnaji gave the fourth Brockwood talk, and afterward he gave an interview to Richard Henwood. The walk was just with Krishnaji, Dorothy, and me. At 6 p.m., Asit and Minakshi left for the airport and Bombay.’
September eighth. ‘The Gathering is over, so the house is beginning to empty. I did desk work, laundry, etcetera. Dorothy, who was stung in the mouth by a wasp, didn’t come on the walk, so Krishnaji and I, with the dog Whisper, went across the fields. It was a wonder of beauty.’

The ninth. ‘Krishnaji did exercises as usual with Dr. Parchure in the morning, but then spent the rest of the day in bed. I went to a three-hour staff meeting beginning at 3 p.m.’
September tenth. ‘Krishnaji and I took the train to London. Mary and Joe met us at Waterloo. Krishnaji had a Huntsman fitting, then I had a Hilliers fitting on two pair of slacks, with Krishnaji overseeing it.’ He had to see how long the slacks were; it should break at the instep. We lunched with Mary at Fortnum, then I went at three with Rita Zampese to Qantas about our tickets to India. I rejoined Krishnaji at Hatchards, and we went by taxi to Waterloo and so home.’

September thirteenth. ‘I worked mostly at my desk, but in the afternoon, international committee members arrived for a weeklong series of meetings with Krishnaji and David Bohm.’ The fourteenth. ‘Krishnaji and David Bohm held a videotaped conversation with committee members; the Brockwood staff were present, but not participating. In the afternoon, there was a tea for everyone. Krishnaji came in for a little while and then we walked.’

The seventeenth. ‘Krishnaji spent all day in bed resting, with lunch on a tray. David Bohm held a discussion at 11:30 a.m. In the afternoon, Mary Cadogan and I met with a French-language group consisting of Jean-Michel Maroger, Pascaline Mallet, and Betsy Debass, all from France; Gisèle Balleys for the French-speaking Swiss; and Robert Linssen for the French-speaking Belgians. We talked about French books and the need for more translations.
The next day, ‘Krishnaji held another videotaped conversation with Dave Bohm. I talked to Mary Cadogan after lunch. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji talked to the staff. He said he would talk to them every day, or as often as they wished. There was a discussion on “thinking together.”’

The next day, ‘Again at 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji talked to David and everyone else present. After lunch, all the international committee members left. The Marogers left after supper, but in the afternoon, Krishnaji, the Marogers, Dorothy, David Bohm, Dr. Parchure, and I met in the dining room and the Marogers spoke of wanting to do something with either La Mahaudière’—that’s their place—‘or another place if they move, that will benefit or be allied with Brockwood. They are separating from the farming project of Jean-Michel’s mother and brother.’ That property was co-owned by the brother and the mother. Nothing came of that, as I recall.
The twenty-first. ‘Krishnaji talked to staff in the morning, and was deeply exasperated. He talked to me about it after lunch.

October first. ‘Thames Television came to do an interview with Krishnaji. They also interviewed some students and two staff in the morning, and Krishnaji answering questions in the afternoon. The interviewer’s name was Elaine Grand.’
The second. ‘At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji talked to staff. Dorothy was not well before lunch, and went to lie down. I went to talk to her afterward at Krishnaji’s suggestion. She is deeply discouraged and upset, feeling that she has lost Krishnaji’s confidence. Krishnaji and I went together to talk to her, and out of it came a largely new direction for Brockwood: no younger students; more older ones; and the inclusion of any-age serious people. The primary purpose of Brockwood must be the exploration of Krishnaji’s teachings. Dorothy changed visibly and came on the walk. Krishnaji is enthused, and me too. He wanted to talk to the staff immediately, but will wait until Saturday.’ That was a Thursday.
October third: ‘I met Mary Links at the Petersfield train station. She came to talk to Krishnaji about the second volume of the biography, and to spend the night. Krishnaji told her of the new plan for Brockwood. We talked all afternoon, and with Dorothy we walked. I called Mary Cadogan about the new plan, and she is enthused, too.’
The fourth of October. ‘Krishnaji, Mary, and I talked all morning about the biography, until Joe arrived for lunch. Krishnaji, Mary, Joe, and I had coffee upstairs, and Krishnaji asked Joe’s opinion of the proposed change at Brockwood. Joe suggested Dorothy have sole decision-making in running it. The Linkses left, and on the walk, Krishnaji told Dorothy he delegates decisions to her under the new plan. He also held a staff meeting at 4 p.m., and told them of the plan, and most are enthusiastic.’
The fifth. ‘Krishnaji talked to the school. After the walk in the afternoon, Krishnaji was tired.’
October sixth. ‘Krishnaji slept very well: nine hours. Jean-Michel Maroger arrived. At lunch, Krishnaji invited him to be a trustee of the KFT, and Jean-Michel accepted. At 3:45 p.m., Krishnaji held a videotaped discussion with Jean-Louis Dewez. The latter asked questions in French and Krishnaji answered in English. There was a school meeting at 5 p.m., which I felt I needed to attend, so Krishnaji went alone with Whisper for his walk. Gale winds are blowing.’
The seventh. ‘It is cold and the wind is continuing. Krishnaji rested in the morning, but dictated letters. In the afternoon, he did another videotaped discussion for France with Jean-Louis Dewez, and also included Jean-Michel and Daphne Maroger, Stephen Smith’—Brockwood’s French teacher—’and Didier Bertrande’—a French student. ‘Then Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I went for a walk. Jean-Michel and Jean-Louis left for France.
October eighth. ‘I took the 9:30 a.m. train to London to get our Indian visas, then did various errands, and was back by 5 p.m. Krishnaji had talked with Harsh and later with the Moroccan.’
October ninth. ‘Krishnaji, Dorothy, the Moroccan man, and I took the 10:23 a.m. train to London. Joe met us and drove Krishnaji, Dorothy, and me to Huntsman. Dorothy went elsewhere and, after Krishnaji’s fitting, Krishnaji and I went on with Joe to his apartment, where he, Mary, Amanda, Krishnaji, and I had lunch. Joe drove Krishnaji to his dentist appointment with Mr. Thomson at 3:30 p.m. I shopped for fruit and cheese on the Marylebone High Street, and got a Braun shaver for Krishnaji. He didn’t like it, so it had to be returned. Krishnaji had one small filling. Joe drove us back to Waterloo, where Dorothy met us, and so, back to Brockwood by 6 p.m.’

October eleventh. ‘Krishnaji rested but came down for a walk and then for a special supper in honor of a young Chinese pianist who played at Brockwood Park eight years ago, and is now a concert pianist. He played for the school in the evening and Krishnaji stayed for the first half. The new electric under-blanket came for Krishnaji’s bed.’

October twelfth. ‘Krishnaji got up for lunch with the school. There was a conversation at the table after reading a newspaper article on the effects of the A-bomb. “Dreadful,” said Krishnaji. The Bohms, Dorothy, and me were half-joking as there seems to be no adequate serious response to such horror. Krishnaji said if he discussed it with a head of government, they would say, “But our neighbor has it.” He would say, “Get together and agree !” We went for a walk, Krishnaji, Dorothy, the dogs, and me at 4:30 p.m., as it is beginning to get dark early.’

There was nothing much the next day, just Krishnaji resting and I was working at the desk.
On the fifteenth, ‘I went by the 9:23 a.m. train to London, where I went first to fetch my passport and visa from the Indian high commission, then to American Express for more travelers’ checks, and bought myself sports shoes for walking in India, and a Water Pik.
October sixteenth. ‘In the morning, Krishnaji, while remaining in bed, did audiotaped replies to questions submitted by Gary Null of station WBAI in New York for broadcast there. He got up for lunch and later walked with Dorothy and me and the dogs. Krishnaji woke up in the night with some extraordinary feeling in his head, something he said was ecstatic.’
The seventeenth. ‘It was rainy and cold. Krishnaji again had strange feelings in the night. In the morning he replied to the rest of the questions on tape for WBAI in New York. He had lunch in bed, but got out for a walk with Dorothy and me. There was a staff meeting.’
October eighteenth. ‘It was a cold, clear day. Krishnaji hadn’t slept too well, so he stayed in bed until it was time for the walk. He, Dorothy, the dogs, and I went across the fields and up the drive.  ‘My cold is fairly heavy,’ it says here. ‘Krishnaji and I watched a film on TV of the hijacking of a subway train until almost 11 p.m.’

October thirty-first. ‘Krishnaji woke me at 5 a.m. I made our nettle tea, but neither of us felt like food. The bags were all ready by 7 a.m., and the school had formed a circle in the West Wing hall to see Krishnaji off. We left shortly after 7 a.m. with Dorothy; Ingrid and Doris took our seven bags in another car. Krishnaji said, “I got up at 4:30 a.m. and I’m still not ready.”’ ‘All was with a flurry getting off. It was a clear morning with marvelous hoarfrost on the fields and trees. The beauty of this land, the seasons, the northern air was a gift before the heat of India.’ I remember that so well because I knew I was going where it would be very hot, and to see the hoarfrost on every little twig and blade of grass made me say to myself, “Remember this when you get where you’re going.”
‘We had egg sandwiches while driving and a Cox apple, but after we were in the airport, Our Qantas flight left at 12:30 p.m. instead of 9:30 a.m. We had the forward seats and lots of room with the new “sleeper” seats that pull out. Krishnaji said he woke up at 12:30 a.m., couldn’t sleep, got up, looked around, and picked up flies (we’ve had swarms), got back in bed, and was awake till 2:30 a.m. He had the most extraordinary feelings of “great clarity and don’t measure with words.” I write this page in the aircraft in Bahrain, where we have had to land. The flight was supposed to be nonstop, but because the flying space is congested due to the Iran-Iraq war, extra fuel was used so we had to stop in Bahrain for fuel. We are due in Bombay at 11:30 p.m., but will be hours late.’
November first. ‘We landed at 4:30 a.m. Asit and Pama had a car right up to the plane. A government man was there to expedite us through the formalities, but only two of our seven bags appeared. There is a strike of luggage handlers, so the other five bags, with everything we need, were not unloaded and went on to Perth, Australia.’ ‘Asit tried to take Krishnaji to the nearby Centaur Hotel where we had rooms, but Krishnaji insisted on returning to the airport until I was through with the luggage formalities. It took two hours to find someone, fill out forms, etc. We all finally went to the hotel. The one bag of mine had an old pajama suit so I showered and put that on.’ ‘Luckily sandals, too.’ ‘Krishnaji’s only bag had a Water Pik, cheese, and herbs in it,’ ‘but Pama had brought Krishnaji’s Indian clothes. Nandini came at 7 a.m., bringing breakfast. Balasundaram turned up unexpectedly. All had breakfast and sat about until 9:30 a.m., when the Indian Airline left at 10:30 a.m. for Madras. Nandini, Krishnaji, Pama, and I flew on. Pupul, Achyut, Radha Burnier, Padma Santhanam, and Jayalakshmi were all at the Madras airport to greet Krishnaji. Sunanda, Prema, and Malini were at Vasanta Vihar. I have my old room, but enter it from the back, as the sitting room is now a separate room and has a bath addition. Pupul and Nandini have that.’ ‘Lunch was in the new dining room built with screens off the kitchen.’ ‘Dr. Parchure was here. Also Rajesh. Parameshwaram was there for cooking. Krishnaji and I had been up for thirty-one hours straight by the end of lunch. But Krishnaji in his Indian clothes, that Pama had brought to the airport, looked young and radiant.’ ‘He said to me on the plane that when he closes his eyes, the thing he spoke of yesterday, the clarity, is still going on. I bathed then slept in the afternoon. It is hot and moist. The crows and the koels were noisy.’
Sunday the second. ‘Everyone breakfasted in the dining room at 8 a.m. Krishnaji put the question: Has the religious mind of India, which is centered in doubt, as different from that of the West, which is founded on faith, been influenced and taken over by the West and hence is disappearing? He strongly said that if it is dead, then something new can be born. In death there is beginning. The evidence of decay is the rising preoccupation with astrology, magic, gurus, etcetera. This went on for two-and-a-half hours. I felt dissolved with the need for more sleep, the heat, and the travel wear and tear. I slept one-and-a-half hours till lunch and again afterward. Radha Burnier and her aunt, Dr. Sivakamu, came in the afternoon, and Krishnaji asked when he should make his walk through the Theosophical Society grounds. Radha said whenever he chose. Krishnaji said tomorrow afternoon and jokingly crossed himself several times.’ ‘It was almost put off, but Pupul wants to be present and she goes back to Delhi after Colombo. Asit telephoned twice during the day but has no news of the missing luggage. Then he rang that it has been found in Perth, but it may not get back to Bombay till Tuesday, in which case I would not leave for Colombo till it arrives. But at 9 p.m., he rang and Pupul came to tell me that the bags are in Bombay and will arrive here tomorrow. Asit must have pulled all strings to get them to return to Bombay on some other airline. Krishnaji has said all along they would be returned. He had sent an angel.’ ‘The angel must’ve worked closely with Asit.’ ‘Pupul talked with Sunanda, Nandini, Ahalya, and me about the book she is doing on Krishnaji in India, and told of an incident when Shiva Rao was declared dying by doctors some years ago while Krishnaji was staying in their house. Pupul and others were concerned that Krishnaji should be there, but Krishnaji told her, ‘Death will not come while I am in the house.’ November third. ‘There was another long talk at breakfast about a possible conference next year in Delhi on the crisis in the human condition. Values were discussed, and Krishnaji said, “I have no values.” I see immediately what he means but others argued. At 10 a.m., I went with Prema to try to find a cotton kaftan. Everything was shoddy, but I found one long blouse I can wear with pants. Prema was as kind as ever. She has had a bad year with two deaths in her life. Narayan, whose mother was operated on this morning for a burst appendix, was at lunch, and got a quizzing from Krishnaji and Pupul about the school. At 5 p.m., Radha came with her aunt, Dr. Sivakamu, and Dr. Sivakamu’s brother, who wanted to see Krishnaji. Then, we all went to the gates of the TS, where we all got out. A crowd of TS members were waiting, and Krishnaji greeted them with the gesture of namaste. Everyone was smiling. Radha looked very happy. Krishnaji was at his shining handsomest; charming as no one else can be. And so, this first step into the TS for Krishnaji in forty-six years began.’ .
‘Krishnaji and Radha strode off at a good clip for this walk through the grounds that he had said he would make if she became president. Dick Clarke, in his nineties, peddled his bicycle behind them with the studious walkers following. Radha pointed out various places as we went along. At her house by the beach, Achyut, Sunanda, Pupul, and Nandini, who went by car, all had fruit juice, and Krishnaji, Radha, Pama, and I walked back to the gate going along the river. Krishnaji told me he recognized nothing, but thought he might recognize the river path where he used to walk as a boy. But when he came to it, he didn’t. We stopped by the place where Mrs. Besant was cremated, and then came to what used to be a water tank and has since been embellished. This he remembered a little bit. As we walked by the elephant heads on the main building, he remembered they impressed him when he was very young.’ .
‘Looking up at his old rooms he said he didn’t really remember them. We went into the main hall and he looked about without saying anything. We walked on to the gate. By now it was dark and we waited on a bench for the car to come and take us back to Vasanta Vihar. Krishnaji told me he remembers virtually nothing of it. “It is a dead place,” he said. At 9 p.m., Pama and I went with a Qantas man to the Madras airport to retrieve the missing luggage, which Asit had seen to in Bombay. He and Devi Mangaldas’—that’s the daughter of Nandini—‘arrived on the same plane. Asit had spent six hours in Bombay yesterday getting it unloaded or they might have gone on to London.’ ‘I at last saw the bags, but there was no custom man on duty to clear them, so I couldn’t get them. Unless they can be cleared tomorrow morning at 8 a.m., all will be in vain, as I need Krishnaji’s passport to clear them, and he needs his passport to go to Colombo on the 9:30 a.m. plane

This post was last updated by John Raica Wed, 19 Jun 2019.

November fourth, 1980, At 8 a.m., I went to the airport with Pama and a Qantas Airlines man. I got the luggage examined and released. There were endless forms to be filled and signed; then, with porters running, we rushed to the departure gate where, at 9:30 a.m., Krishnaji and the rest who were going to Colombo were waiting to board. Dr. Parchure, who forgot he had currency in his luggage, was stopped, fined, and couldn’t go on his flight, which was to go ahead with Parameshwaram, so he took two of our bags back to Vasanta Vihar. He will follow with Achyut, Ahalya, and Rajesh on Friday. There was a mob scene getting off.  I became a machine of passports, keys, and papers, no longer caring about how I looked. I wore slacks that I flew in from London and the same shirt, fortunately laundered, have washed my hair and brushed it. There is no way to set it, but luckily the short haircut in London makes it not too bad.’
‘We, at last, got onto the plane, and in not much over an hour we landed in Colombo. Krishnaji is again a guest of the state. Officials met him; and a minister, Dr. Adikaram, and he were driven into Colombo.’ Dr. Adikaram was a nice old man who was the head of the Krishnamurti Center in Sri Lanka, chancellor of the university, and had known Krishnaji forever. ‘Pupul, Nandini, and I were in a second car. We are staying at Acland House, a government guest house built by the British. It has large rooms with a dining room sixty feet long’ . ‘Parameshwaram oversees the food cooking and three young Navy bearers serve. Krishnaji has the largest and best bedroom with hot water and air conditioning. Pupul and Nandini share another room, but have only cold water. I have a small but adequate room, but it has an air conditioner. The weather is very hot and very damp (just as I feared). We are very near the equator’ [chuckles]. ‘Because it is a government naval place, there are difficulties about others visiting, like the Patwardhans, Asit, and Devi. Devi was told that her mother, Nandini, would have to come downstairs to see her; she can’t go up to Nandini’s room. Dr. Adikaram is caught in the middle.’ I can still see our arrival, because here I was not properly dressed, and of course all the other women were in beautiful saris. And the most elegant one of all was Krishnaji in his Indian clothes, and there I was in the slacks that I’d left Brockwood in. And luckily I’d bought that shirt and then, whatever it was, and it was laundered, so I was clean. But I was flanked by beautifully dressed Pupul and Nandini into this government limousine. I remember Nandini had a little bit of trouble leaving India. She had absolutely beautiful, heavy gold bracelets and because they were so large, it was suggested that she was getting gold out of India. And that was a problem in Madras. She said, “These have been on my arm for the last…”—I forget how many years, she’d worn them all her life—she never took them off. And in the end, they looked the other way.
‘Some bureaucratic knot has occurred as there are many rooms empty here but only four of us can stay. There is a government car for Krishnaji’s use, and we drove to a park and walked. I am at last in proper clothes and have the luxury of my toilet article box. Today is Election Day in the U.S.’
November fifth. ‘Some TV technician said that Reagan has won by a landslide. All our people were at lunch, and there was a long conversation. Krishnaji later said to me, “You can’t have this sort of conversation except in India.” I went with Pupul and Nandini, the Patwardhans, Devi, and a Ceylonese lady for a little shopping. Kleenex was the prize’ [chuckles]. ‘I walked with Krishnaji and Dr. Adikaram in the park. It was very hot. Krishnaji picks up a trail of admirers who march behind him, which he dislikes’ . ‘The heat bothered me. A cold bath seemed like a life-saving thing. Asit and Devi sat with Krishnaji and me at dinner, and later went out.’
The sixth. ‘The newspapers carried confirmation and some details of the Carter defeat by Reagan. McGovern and Birch Bayh are also defeated. Republicans have a majority in the Senate. At 9:30 a.m., Krishnaji went with Dr. Adikaram to see Prime Minister R. Premadasa. In India, the prime minister calls on Krishnaji, a religious leader being second to no one.’ ‘Krishnaji doesn’t consider this, but he felt somewhat uncomfortable there. Meanwhile, Devi, Nandini, Sunanda, Pama, and I went with a friend of Dr. Adikaram to see the Kalema Buddhist temple. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji was interviewed by Minister of State de Alwis for television.’ ‘At 5:30 p.m., Asit took Krishnaji and me for a walk by the sea. Krishnaji liked it better than the park, which he thinks irritated his eyes. The sea air is better. The air seemed un-refreshing to me; sticky and heavy.’
November seventh. ‘At 11 a.m., Krishnaji held a press conference with about thirty journalists. Asit took photographs and then left for Bombay after talking briefly to me about Narayan in lieu of being able to talk to Krishnaji. After the press conference, Krishnaji talked individually for forty-five minutes to a Dutch journalist, Paul Marynis of NRC Handelsblad. Dr. Parchure, Ahalya, Achyut, and Rajesh arrived from Madras, and are all staying at the Ramakrishna Mission. I walked with Krishnaji by the sea. He told me that he’d had a good meditation in the night.’
The eighth. ‘Dr. Parchure came at 6:30 a.m. and resumed exercises, massage, etcetera for Krishnaji. After breakfast, he also massaged my still swollen foot. I went shopping with Devi, Ahalya, Pupul, and Nandini. Newspapers all carry articles on Krishnaji’s press conference. At 5:30 p.m., Krishnaji gave his first Colombo talk in John De Silva Memorial Hall. The audience was over 3,000 and overflowed the hall. They appeared stunned by the presence of Krishnaji. He came in slowly, resplendent, wearing a dhoti as he does for talks. Quietly climbed onto a settee, sitting cross-legged, putting his watch beside him. He made the namaste hands together greeting to the audience, which had risen in greeting to him. And then he sat for a while in silence. Majestic. Beautiful. Later, Dr. Adikaram said the audience felt overwhelmed as if in the presence of the Buddha. He began to speak very simply, as to an audience that knew nothing of his teaching. There were several interruptions. A man near where Pupul, Nandini, and I sat had an epileptic fit, and Dr. Parchure, also nearby, saw to him. Two men in the audience interrupted to ask what was being done for the sick, and a Buddhist monk wanted to say something. Krishnaji quietly suggested he come to the public discussion on Wednesday, and then continued his talk. Later, he said the lack of light in the hall made him unable to see the audience, except a man in the very front row who kept looking around, not listening. “I was in despair,” said Krishnaji at the dinner table.’ He liked to connect with the audience visually.
November ninth. ‘Krishnaji was disturbed about Rishi Valley and what he is told of Narayan’s shortcomings. Pupul irritated him at the lunch table discussing this. Her aggressive voice and manner and wagging finger.’  ‘She repeats things over and over, and Krishnaji wants to find a solution. He came in later to talk to me about it. I suggested a less heavy-handed approach to Narayan to give him help and not tear him apart. At 5:30 p.m., Krishnaji gave a second Colombo talk on “reading the book which is you.”

November tenth. ‘At 11 a.m., Krishnaji held a discussion with about sixty invited people. And at 4 p.m., another one with thirty Buddhist monks. The latter were dull and immature in Krishnaji’s view, though he was very patient with them. Afterward, he and I walked by the sea and were able to get TIME andNewsweek at Galle Face Hotel.’
The eleventh. ‘Pupul, Ahalya, and I left at 7:30 a.m. in an air-conditioned car that I hired’ ‘and drove to Kandy about three hours away. We visited the Peradeniya Gardens. There were marvelous orchids and trees from all over Asia, one of which was a 100-year-old great, spreading tent of a tree like a geodesic dome as big as an aircraft hangar in the middle of a field. I wanted to go under and inside it and found, to my  amazement, it was a Ficus benjamina, the houseplant of California.’
Driving there and back I saw five elephants. One was being scrubbed by four men in a muddy river and two were obviously walking home after their bath.’ The air conditioning made the trip possible for me. For the first time here, I was cool most of the day. At 5 p.m., Krishnaji went with Dr. Adikaram to meet the president of Sri Lanka, a Mr. Jayawardene, who had invited him. He spent one-and-a-half hours talking to him. In the evening, Pupul, Nandini, and I watched the television broadcast of the interview between Krishnaji and the minister of state done here last Thursday.’
November twelfth. ‘After breakfast, Krishnaji talked to KFI people including Narayan, Rajesh, and a new doctor couple who are at Rajghat about the responsibility to people like them who have come for the teachings and not to work at schools, etcetera. Afterward, I went with Pupul, Nandini, Devi, and Rajesh to the Colombo Museum and to a tourist shop. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji held a public discussion at the university of which Dr. Adikaram is the chancellor. The hall was jammed with over 4,000 people. Krishnaji took spoken questions from an audience for one-and-a-half hours. Then, he and I left and drove to Galle Face Hotel, where we walked in the dark and rain along the sea walls. In the evening, Pupul asked Krishnaji how much his early life had influenced him. He replied, “Scarcely at all,” and went on to say that most change in him came about after he had left Rajagopal.
Pupul talked about the book she is writing on Krishnaji in India. Krishnaji suggested she share chronology dates with Mary Links. At first, Pupul was reluctant, but later, when she realized she needed Western dates, she said they could exchange.’ ‘She said she was not going to answer so many of Mary’s questions about Rajagopal having taken all the contents, including silver, at Vasanta Vihar.I was able to get her to look up whether Rajagopal was in India in November 1957 when, if I remember correctly, Krishnaji was bullied into signing over his copyright to KWINC. Mary Lutyens has no record of Rajagopal in India then. But Pupul says he was, and left Delhi in January 1958. He has not been back since.’
November thirteenth. ‘Krishnaji was to rest, but talked much of the morning. I went shopping with Nandini, Devi, and Ahalya. It was very hot. Pupul left for Delhi. Nandini, Mr. Ranganathan, and I walked with Krishnaji by the sea.’
The fourteenth. ‘I had a long talk with Dr. Parchure about Krishnaji’s disregard for his bodily health. His brain is full of energy but his body is tired. The swelling in his feet has not gone down. Parchure feels he should have adjusted to the heat by now, and wants him to have a cardiogram in Madras. He asked Krishnaji where is his “intelligence of the body that he speaks of? Either it doesn’t exist or Krishnaji is ignoring it. The body is dragging with fatigue, though the mind is very alert.” I asked how I can constructively back up Parchure’s suggestions to Krishnaji. Krishnaji feels I get emotional, and so discounts what I say. This makes for only partial frankness. If this is so, as it apparently is, I must quietly be rational in talking to him, no matter what I feel. Krishnaji is presently irrational about his own health and capabilities. It is as if his mind is given greater energy, which he regards as given for the purpose of his work, and he expects his body to do more than it should. I have to learn to act differently with him, offer only what will effectively reach his mind, watch carefully my reactions, and how I express things to him. It will take great care.’
‘Instead of resting this morning, he talked to Narayan, Sunanda, Pama, Achyut, Dr. Parchure, and me about Rishi Valley, the need for new teachers with a “global outlook.” Out of this came an idea for a center, but not at any of the schools, for people who come only for the teachings. And Krishnaji spoke of this leading to a “Renaissance.” He asked what I thought, and I said I doubted that people once said, “Let us make a Renaissance.” They simply did what they saw needed doing and then later it was called that. We must see what is needed now and do it. “Let’s do it,” he said. At 4 p.m., there was a tea for all members and helpers of the Krishnamurti Center in Sri Lanka who have done so much to arrange for Krishnaji’s visit. Krishnaji attended for an hour. Then he briefly saw the minister of education. Krishnaji, Nandini, and I, taking along Mr. Weeraperuna, went for a walk by the sea on the Galle Face green.’

November fifteenth. ‘Sunanda and Pama flew back to Madras. For most of the day, I stayed in my room doing letters and working on the chronology for Mary L. Krishnaji gave his third Colombo talk at 5:30. A very fine oneon pleasure, desire, life, death. Dr. Adikaram, who was bitten by a dog several days ago, didn’t come to fetch Krishnaji. Another talkative man escorted Krishnaji and bothered him with questions. After supper with Nandini and me, he watched a TV English drama and looked very tired.’
The sixteenth of November: ‘Krishnaji rested as much as possible. I worked on the chronology for Mary, reviewing 1967, that astonishing and blessed year, especially May in Holland in the thatched farmhouse.’ That was a lovely, lovely farmhouse with thatch on the roof, and the Bois Boulogne house in Paris, and June in Gstaad. At 5:30 p.m., Krishnaji gave a fourth and last Colombo talk. I came back with him and Dr. Adikaram. Krishnaji and I dined alone as Nandini went somewhere with Devi and others. After a talk the Buddha only might have made, Krishnaji watched an old Perry Mason episode on TV, which relaxed him and he went to bed at nine.’
The next day, ‘several government ministers came to lunch. Krishnaji, Nandini, Devi, and I walked at the Galle Face Green in the late afternoon. I packed.’
The eighteenth of November: ‘After an early lunch at Acland House and a formal distribution of envelopes with tips to the staff of nine, we left. Krishnaji was driven to the airport by the minister of state, while another government car followed with Nandini, Devi, Mrs. Nataraj, and me.’ Mr. Nataraj is a nice man from Colombo who worked at Vasanta Vihar. ‘We then all sat in a special lounge, with various ministers making conversation with Krishnaji, and all the Sri Lanka Krishnamurti group sitting silently, staring at him. We were driven from the lounge to the aircraft stairs in the car of the Indian high commissioner, who was on the same flight. At last we left, and my spirits rose with the plane. Sri Lanka has much good, but not for me’ . ‘The ringing wet heat is such that I’m physically struggling with it all the time, and there is little beauty to be seen except in the vegetation. I was delighted to leave the whole place. Dr. Adikaram is a rather touching little old man with some sense of what Krishnaji is about and says. But others in his group, though helpful, and endlessly kind to all of us, are nevertheless a very ordinary group. In Madras, it was arranged for Krishnaji to sail through immigration and customs, but he insisted on standing with me until all our four bags appeared. One was almost lost, but when it was recovered, we then went swiftly in Mrs. Santhanam’s car and were away. Krishnaji stared at the crowds of people on the roads. “India, I’m afraid, is hopeless,” he said. At Vasanta Vihar, there was Jayalakshmi with two large, black granite nandis she has had sculpted for the Ojai house. They are plump and quite engaging. Krishnaji is delighted with them. He petted them. She said she could have priests come and do something traditional to consecrate them. They are to guard the house.’
‘How they will get from the veranda here to the patio in Ojai is an interesting problem; presumably, it will be done. Theo and Alan Hooker, who were due to arrive here, have not turned up. It was slightly cooler at Vasanta Vihar, and I feel better being here.’
The nineteenth: ‘Theo and Alan Hooker turned up in a taxi as we were finishing breakfast. They had been stuck in Bahrain. In the morning, Nandini, Devi, and I went with Prema to shop. I got two cottons for sari blouses and a sample for Krishnaji for underclothes. In the afternoon, the tailor came to measure; also a cobbler came to copy sandals. I went with Krishnaji and Radha to her house in the TS and from there walked on the beach. Pama went to invite Rukmini Arundale on Krishnaji’s behalf to lunch tomorrow or Friday. She said she had to consult her diary and would let him know.’  The next day, ‘Radha came and sat with us at breakfast. She says her aunt Rukmini Arundale is afraid of Krishnaji.’ ‘Krishnaji said, “She is? Good. I will exploit that,” with a look of glee on his face.’
 ‘Later, a message came. Rukmini Arundale had consulted her diary and cannot come for lunch. She has no free time. Kindly tell Krishnaji. End of subject. Sunanda will not invite her again. Yesterday, Dr. Parchure was concerned about the swelling in Krishnaji’s feet not going down. To rule out causes like heart, kidneys, etcetera another doctor came and gave a cardiogram and relevant samples have been sent to a lab. As his heart is fine, the new doctor could not account for the swelling. So Dr. P. did simple remedies. In the afternoon, his legs were packed in cold mud and then his feet were put in cold water. Then pressure bandages were wound round and he went for his walk. The swelling subsided.’
The next day it just says, ‘Packed. Jayalakshmi at lunch said that the nandis are to be shipped to Ojai.’
November twenty-second: ‘A hot night. I awoke at 2 a.m., got up at 3, and at 4:15 a.m. Krishnaji, Nandini, Dr. Parchure, and I left Vasanta Vihar in the Santhanams’ car, with all the luggage in the trunk and on a roof rack. Krishnaji sat in front with the driver, alert, watching every move all the way. Nandini and I dozed. The headlights, blaring horns, and diesel fumes make it a tortuous drive. Huge silent carts of hay pulled by patient diminutive bullocks loom in ghostly slow ways in the night. We reached Rishi Valley at 9:15 a.m. All of the school stood in a circle by the old guest house to greet Krishnaji. The rest of us were given bouquets. It was nice to see the changes upstairs. The suggestions I made two years ago had turned out well. The large end of the room is a fine bedroom for Krishnaji.’ He was sleeping in that little tiny miserable one.‘His old little room is now his dressing room. And the middle room has been changed to include the balconies at either side, giving an airy, much more pleasing room for meetings. I am in my old room downstairs, repainted with small attentions to make it nicer, all seen to by Usha Goenka. Her two sons are in the school here, and she lives in the Moorheads’ old house, working in the rural school, and seeing to a proper diet in the school’s food, better arrangements for guests, etcetera. We had breakfast. I unpacked and settled my things. Asit arrived from Bombay with his two daughters to start their term. He is staying here for ten days. At 5:30 p.m., Krishnaji, Narayan, and I walked to the school gate and west toward Rishi Konda and back across the fields and past the banyan tree. The valley is greener, though only medium rains have fallen this year. So many trees have been planted, and the ones we planted two years ago are growing. The strangely rocked hills seem to sleep. The urgency of Krishnaji’s planting, his enthusiasm, has made this place blessed and beautiful. He was persuaded by Dr. Parchure and me to have his supper in bed. Nandini and I went to the outdoor supper in the full moon. We ate with Mrs. Parchure, and after we went to where the whole school watched old Laurel and Hardy movies.’ ‘Avalanches of laughter resounded in the valley.’
November twenty-third. ‘Krishnaji said he woke at 1 a.m. with something happening in the top of his head. It had to do with Rishi Konda.’(the mountain west of Rishi Valley, a sacred something about it). After breakfast, Krishnaji talked to Asit a bit and then called me to join in. Then he spoke with Narayan about Usha and their relationship. Did they wish to marry? No. Then it was a private matter between them but they must undo the gossip that has sprung up. It is up to them to figure out how. They both seemed happy that Krishnaji had not been drastic. All this took the morning. After 5 p.m., Krishnaji, Naidu, Narayan, Nandini, and I walked all over the westernmost thirty acres, where Naidu has just planted a thousand more mango trees. We saw trays of silkworms devouring mulberry leaves. Little white worms smaller than a cigarette. They do this nonstop for five days and then spin their cocoons. Then a man brings them disaster.’

M: The twenty-fourth. ‘Krishnaji held a long talk over the breakfast table over the structure of the school. Asit was pointing out errors and Narayan was being defensive. As a result, Narayan, Asit, and Mr. Vethakan (now an administrator here) met the accountant and revised the system so that monthly accounts are presented. After lunch, Krishnaji talked with Mrs. Thomas and her husband about her becoming headmistress. She asked for twenty-four hours to think it over. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji talked to Rajesh, and offered him a job of running the junior school and being on the committee of three with Narayan and Mrs. Thomas to run the school. Krishnaji was tired, but had galloped through changes he wished to make. He, Nandini, Rajesh, and I took a late walk. Later, Asit spent two hours in the evening talking to Mr. and Mrs. Thomas about the school and expressing much criticism.’
November twenty-fifth: ‘Sunanda, Pama, Achyut, and Ahalya arrived from Madras. Pupul telephoned Sunanda that Mrs. Gandhi is coming here to see Krishnaji on December twentieth. Nandini and I visited the art department of the junior school in the morning. Nari Gandhi’—that’s the architect—‘Theo, and Alan Hooker were at lunch. Nandini and I called on Mrs. Parchure. Asit reported his conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Thomas to Krishnaji, and Krishnaji sent for me. Krishnaji is disturbed by the reported lack of discipline in the school, and the cynicism said to exist among the older boys, one of whom was heard to say’—I was the one who heard it—‘“Heil Hitler” when Krishnaji arrived. Krishnaji was shocked by this, feels great blame is attached to Narayan, and is going to call him to account tomorrow, but feels sad for him and wants him to succeed. The tension over all this has upset Krishnaji’s stomach. Though it was almost dark, Krishnaji, Asit, Nandini, and I walked down to the gate.’
The twenty-sixth: ‘After breakfast, Krishnaji had Narayan, Asit, and me in for a two-and-a-half hour discussion. Asit, who had cross-checked all his facts, laid them out without emotion for Narayan to answer. Narayan accepted all suggestions. Krishnaji slept two hours in the afternoon and went for only a very short walk.’
The next day: ‘It is Thanksgiving Day in the U.S. Krishnaji talked alone with the two senior classes of students, and in the afternoon held discussions with trustees and some of the teachers. We walked to the bridge as it was getting dark. I finished the chronology of 1967 for Mary L. and posted it to her.’
November twenty-eighth: ‘Krishnaji talked at breakfast about vision, what it is, and the need for it in the school. Then he rested for most of the day. Nandini and I went with Usha Goenka to visit the rural school. In the afternoon, Usha came to talk to me about her position in Rishi Valley, and I gave her cautionary advice. There was a walk with Krishnaji and Narayan up the hill behind the playing fields, where the government has planted eucalyptus trees.’
The twenty-ninth. ‘Perhaps a corner was turned today. Narayan was not defensive when Krishnaji questioned the fitness and his friend’s, Mr. Vethakan’s, use at Rishi Valley. When Krishnaji went to have his hair cut, Narayan spoke very openly and well to the rest of us at the breakfast table on school matters. Later, he and KFI members held a long meeting on the school finances and structure. I walked with Krishnaji and Theo. In the evening, Asit, who had talked at length with Usha, told Krishnaji he now feels very well about everything. Krishnaji was amazed and smiling, laughing at the turn in Narayan’s personal life. I suggested, as a turn away from all this pressure on Narayan, that tomorrow in front of us all, that Krishnaji tell Narayan that he is the person who can do the most essential and creative things in these schools, which is to talk about the teachings, and that Narayan should concentrate on this.’
November thirtieth. ‘There was a meeting in the morning where Krishnaji set forth the new structure of the school. Mrs. Thomas is headmistress, Venkatraman heads the senior school, Rajesh heads the junior school. Narayan remains principal and is part of the group that runs the school. The group is Narayan, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas, Venkatraman, Rajesh, and a financial administrator to be found by Asit. Krishnaji enlarged on Narayan’s special responsibilities beyond principalship, which are to see that Krishnaji’s teachings are understood in the school and are a part of it. In the afternoon, Krishnaji held a small group discussion. Mark Lee arrived in the evening from Ojai. He brought Asha and the daughter Nandini, but only as far as Delhi.’

December first. ‘Mark came to breakfast. At 9:30 a.m., Krishnaji held the first teachers’ meeting. Most of the Bangalore and Madras teachers have come for these meetings; closing their schools for a week to do so. After the meeting, Theo read to Krishnaji and me a letter brought by Mark from Erna. It said that at Stanley Cohen’s office, she had signed legal papers starting legal actions against Rajagopal. We are now committed to another legal fray. Theo was in tears toward the end of Erna’s letter because of her being alone to face all this. He wants to leave immediately and go back to Ojai. Krishnaji asked if I should go, too. It was decided to wait two days, and then Theo would decide about his own leaving to support Erna. When Theo left, Krishnaji asked me if this is going to lead to a serious battle. I said it could and it should be realized that he may be subpoenaed, etcetera. “I’ll go at it,” he said. “I am much stronger and more able than I was ten years ago.” The compelling factor, according to our lawyer Cohen, is that if we do not act now, we will let go by default what we won in the earlier case. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji held a private discussion with trustees and a few teachers on the topic he and Asit had been discussing on and off since Ojai: What is intelligence? How does a human brain differ from a computer? Toward the end, Krishnaji spoke of the perception of beauty that is beyond and not related to taste, aesthetics, etcetera. Then we walked. In the evening, Pupul and Achyut arrived. Pupul is full of plans for Mrs. Gandhi’s visit here on the twentieth. This evening, I went with Nandini, Asit, Sunanda, and Pama to dine at Usha’s. She lives in the old Moorhead house. Radha Burnier is in Rishi Valley, too.’
The second of December: ‘Pupul was brought up-to-date at breakfast by Krishnaji, Asit, etcetera. At 4 p.m., there was another private discussion, but too many people slowed it down. Krishnaji, Radha, Asit, and I walked. At breakfast, Krishnaji said, “Ugliness is darkness.” Pupul spoke of gurus, and said that Krishnaji was essentially a guru. Krishnaji spoke of light, and he   disagreed. “There is only light. You don’t say, ‘I have come to light. I am that light.’ There is light. This has deeper significance; that other is too childish,“After all, goodness is that: to have total light. I think that is logical, sense. But gurus in the usual sense is leading you to light.”…“Light is compassion. See the difference. Jesus is supposed to have said, ‘I am the light.’”…“I shrink from that,” said Krishnaji. He then went on to ask how Rishi Valley can be made beautiful. Ugliness is darkness, and here they don’t see that. At 4 p.m., there was another small group discussion, which was held back by too many people. The walk was with Krishnaji, Radha Burnier, Asit, and me.’

 The third. ‘I went to what the school calls “a chanting assembly.”’ The whole school chants. ‘At 9:30 a.m., Krishnaji held a second teachers’ discussion on what is learning. At 4 p.m., I went with Krishnaji to a recital in the assembly hall of North Indian singing by Pandit Jasraj. He teaches Usha. He sang marvelously. At 5:30 p.m., Krishnaji excused himself, and he, Asit, Radha B., and I went for a walk. On our return in the dark, we stopped outside the hall, listened to the continued singing, and finally Krishnaji went in and sat in front until the end of the recital, which was after 8 o’clock. I had supper upstairs with him. He told me “that face” has been with him for four days. Whenever he closes his eyes, it is there; and with his eyes open, he sees it in his room. On the walk, he wanted to stop, close his eyes and look at it. During the music, it was not there.’ ‘He also showed me a small gold locket with JK engraved on it and a photograph of him when he was very young. He had me open it very carefully, and inside there were tiny jewels, the jewels that are in Pine Cottage. I made a necklace of thread so that he could wear it next to his skin for a couple of days. He had told Radha about the bad atmosphere in Adyar. She got the jewels and gave them in the locket to him, and when he returns them in their locket to her, they will go into the northeast corner of the main hall at Adyar.’
December fourth. ‘It rained gently all day. It was much needed. At 9:30 a.m., the small group discussion resumed on the difference between the computer and the human brain and what is intelligence. Krishnaji took it inevitably to the teachings and to a possible technological takeover of most functions, to genetic and biochemical maneuverings that will control man, and offer him an infinite state of pleasure and hence a deterioration of the brain through lack of use. Carrying this to its logical extreme, man will be destroyed by his technology. Krishnaji then said that all this is within the field of the known. All the computer, technology, and all human thinking. Only the unknown is outside of this. He stopped there for today, but for me the implications were enormous. Man remaining in the known will be destroyed. But unlike the computer, does not man have the ability to move into the unknown where thought is not? And is this not the central function of man? It was an absorbing discussion, a momentous one.’
‘Parchure came afterward to do my foot and said that Krishnaji is now too tired to do any exercise in the mornings, but will not hear of cutting down his activities. He is forcing his body to keep up with his mind, but at what cost? At 4 p.m., Krishnaji talked again, this time to the Bangalore school people, shaking them up, and taking the arrogance out of some. Why must he have to do this? When at 6 p.m. it was over, in the dark rain, he wanted to walk, so we sloshed down to the gate and back. I had supper alone with him upstairs.’
December fifth: ‘At 9:30 a.m., there was a teachers’ discussion on beauty, taste, etcetera. Krishnaji’s voice toward the end was deep, quiet, and filled with 'otherness'. It rained at walk time, but we went anyway.’
The next day: ‘At breakfast were Krishnaji, Pupul, Nandini, Achyut, Sunanda, Asit, and me. Krishnaji talked of the need for a sense of sacredness, which he feels in Rishi Valley is being nurtured. Narayan came in and sat during the whole discussion, which lasted till 12:40 p.m. Krishnaji told of the jewels put in the Ojai house and the atmosphere there. He told too of his having worn them for Radha this week so that she can place them in Adyar. Pupul said similarly they had been placed in the assembly hall here. “Then why are they not working?” Krishnaji asked. He felt it has been spoiled by activities—by playing drums, etcetera, and that Visalakshi’—Balasundaram’s wife—‘had practiced 'black arts' there. Something sacred must be respected, not begged for help. Then it can act. They talked of putting jewels somewhere else. ‘Asit then asked if this sacredness, which can be given to stones, could be given to a living thing, a tree. And if a tree, why not a person? “I think so,” said Krishnaji. He said he was not positive, but it might. There was much discussion of this. Pupul recorded part of it on a cassette and Sunanda made shorthand notes and will give the transcription to each of us present.’
‘Krishnaji described the time he had pain and had me place my hands on his head while he placed his hand on mine. He also spoke of liking to stay here in Rishi Valley, that he couldn’t, but would like to. All of them were for this. I listened without reaction, though my own feelings are very different. Krishnaji spoke of energy which, at one level, is in both the good and the bad, but beyond is the unlimited energy, which is the source of everything—the universal energy and beyond good and bad.’
December seventh: ‘Krishnaji says he thought over in the night what he had said yesterday and it is not possible: A human being is different from a jewel. He said this briefly en passant. When I asked him later what had made him change his mind, he said, “It is obvious: Human beings are too corrupt to receive it. And if they are not, then they have no need of blessing. They have it already.” Krishnaji and I walked in the late afternoon. Nandini came a little way, but was tired.’
The eighth: ‘Nandini and Asit left early for Bombay. Krishnaji spent all day resting in bed and had meals on a tray. I ate in the dining hall. Sunanda and Pama left for Madras. Around 6:30 p.m., a message came that Mrs. Simmons was telephoning  Krishnaji, and would he telephone Brockwood Park? This surprised and worried him, as Dorothy knows Krishnaji never takes calls. Narayan took me to his house and at 6:45 p.m., put the call into the operator to make the call to England. He had supper brought to me while we waited. Meanwhile, a Kathakali dance group from Kerala, sent by Jayalakshmi, gave a performance under the banyan tree.

December ninth: ‘Krishnaji was awake until 5 a.m. Being up late, and the phone call disturbed him. The call to Brockwood was put in again in the morning. It was after 3 p.m. when the connection was finally made and I spoke to Dorothy. It was a very poor connection. I could barely make out what she was saying, but she was asking Krishnaji to cable Frances McCann the following: “Please leave Brockwood immediately until everyone feels you are fully recovered. Be guided by Mrs. Simmons.” Krishnaji okayed the cable, and it was sent immediately, double express. Krishnaji spent the whole day in bed resting and catching up on sleep.’ Frances had had a mental breakdown. Krishnaji had told her that she shouldn’t go to India, that it was bad for her, that India made her worse.

 December tenth. ‘Krishnaji slept well. In the morning, he called Narayan and me and began by telling Narayan of his affection for him. “I have known you for thirty years. You are not my relative, I have no relatives but I have affection for you.” Narayan seemed moved by this and was able to talk to Krishnaji without the nervousness he said he has always had in the past in talking to Krishnaji. The situation with Usha was gone into and later Narayan went to fetch her to join in the discussion. Afterward, she talked again to me alone. It went smoothly, perhaps too smoothly. Does she really want to live and work in Rishi Valley? I hope so. After lunch, Krishnaji told me of the curious occurrence when he lay down to rest: “There was a sudden sense of power.” I asked if it were different from the energy that he had felt so strongly here last year. “That was energy, this was power; and I said, ‘Be careful, watch it—it can be dangerous.’ I looked at it very carefully.” Krishnaji, Pupul, Narayan, Achyut, and I walked over the proposed route for Krishnaji to walk with Mrs. Gandhi on the twentieth. Security necessities are an issue.’
December eleventh. ‘Pupul left early for Delhi. At 10 a.m., Krishnaji spoke to the school. The children, who were silent at first, then became responsive. On the walk, I asked Krishnaji if the sense of power was still there. He said it was, but he is very careful about it.’
The next day, it just says that Krishnaji rested and that Theo returned from Bangalore.
December thirteenth. ‘In the morning, Krishnaji talked to the school about robot technology, which was just reported at length in TIME magazine, and what it will mean in their lives.

‘Dorothy told Krishnaji and me of Frances’s deterioration, which necessitated the cable from him—which was just two days before. ‘She was talking of black magic, brushing imaginary toads off people’s shoulders, lying down in the halls, and refusing to leave Brockwood. Krishnaji’s cable was effective, and she has gone to stay with the Carneses in Yorkshire. This is hardly a solution, but it enabled Dorothy to leave yesterday. Frances refuses to go to her sister’s, who was informed, but is hostile to all of us. Dorothy and Mary are in the back rooms here in the old guest house. Krishnaji took them, Mark, Theo, and Hooker for a walk, ending up at 6 p.m. at the assembly where there was a very boring performance by the rural school children.’

The fourteenth: ‘It was a quiet day on the whole.’ ‘At 4 p.m., Krishnaji called the Rishi Valley committee, i.e., Narayan, Mrs. Thomas, Mr. Thomas, Venkatraman, Rajesh, plus Achyut and me, to discuss school affairs.’
The next day, ‘Krishnaji spoke to the school. At 3 p.m., I met with U.S., English, and Canadian trustees to talk over things. Krishnaji and most guests walked to the rural school to see the crafts the children had made, and then we went on with a walk.’
December sixteenth: ‘In the morning, Krishnaji spoke to the upper two classes. In the end, it was agreed that Mary Cadogan suggest that committees inquire if they can get tax-exempt status for donations in their countries and thereby be able to make contributions to the schools. These get-togethers and discussions amongst ourselves have made a good ambience. Krishnaji walked with Asit and me. Dr. Parchure feared Krishnaji was catching a cold, but Krishnaji wanted to walk. We went on the path he may or may not use with Mrs. Gandhi. It has been nicely prepared by government people, but both her security and some of us would prefer there would be no such walk. In the evening, Krishnaji said to me, “Love has no death,” and that he must go into that.’

December seventeenth: ‘At 9:30 a.m., Krishnaji spoke to the school. It was a very lively meeting. I had lunch in the guest dining room, then went in the van with Mark, Dorothy, Mary C., the Siddoos, Scott, and Hooker to Madanapalle to see the house where Krishnaji was born. Mr. Joythi, who runs a yardage store nearby, had the key because he said he was buying the house to keep until the Foundation bought it, and he took us there. This time I saw what Pupul had described as the puja room where his mother chose to give birth to Krishnaji.’  ‘It is a tiny room about six feet across. Today it is used to store wood and the door opens onto the street. In those days, there was a door into the interior of the house, the front room, but this appears to have been walled off. We had to step into it one by one, so small is it, and crowded with debris. It is hard to put that house and that distant day into any context with Krishnaji. There was such a strange feeling to go through the whole house, climbing up to the uppermost roof. Some women sat on the floor, on the ground floor, and smiled back when I greeted and thanked them. The floor above is called a tutorial school. The walls are solid, with heavy plaster, thick, like the older houses here. The floor is cement. It cannot have changed, except in details, since Krishnaji’s childhood. According to Mary’s book, he lived there until he was about eighteen months old, when the family moved to Cuddapah, where Krishnaji nearly died of malaria. Later, in 1907, the father brought his family back to Madanapalle, and Krishna and Nitya went to school there until the father retired in 1909 and went to Adyar. The house is on a side street, has open drains along the base of the buildings. Nearby, we went to Mr. Joythi’s store and bought Kerala towels, refusing offers of tea, and a “lady’s convenience”’ . ‘Later, the same group and Theo drove in the van to Horsley Hills.

December eighteenth, 1980 when Krishnaji and I are in Rishi Valley. ‘Krishnaji called Achyut, Sunanda, Pama, Asit, Dr. Parchure, and me to his room after breakfast. We sat on the floor and discussed Narayan’s position and role here. Krishnaji wants Narayan to devote himself to the teachings and nothing else. The committee must be responsible for everything else. The talk went on till 12:15 p.m. This was to be a day of rest for Krishnaji, but again, he has brushed that aside. Dr. Parchure is asking whether Krishnaji is awake to his dissipation of energy, his irritability at times, and an inattention. Krishnaji says it is not irritability; it is urgency. In the afternoon, he spoke to Narayan alone and said it went well. He said he asked Narayan, if an angel appeared and asked him what he most wanted, what would be his reply? ‘“Enlightenment,” said Narayan. Krishnaji was pleased. Then Krishnaji asked, “More than that lady?”’ ‘At 3:30 p.m., the trustees, other than Krishnaji, met at Narayan’s to discuss videos and tapes; who makes and sells them, who has jurisdiction, in other words. The school grounds were noisy with helicopters casing the football field where landing sites have been made, but they seemed overly cautious and afraid to land. I left at 5 p.m., and went for a walk with Krishnaji, Asit, and Hooker over the chosen path for Krishnaji to possibly walk with Mrs. Gandhi on Saturday. It has been smoothed and covered in red earth. Krishnaji was pleased by it. Much activity has been going on all day, with knots of men standing about, supervising others’ labors.’

December nineteenth. ‘There are immense preparations going on for the prime minister’s visit, and the school grounds are filled up with soldiers and officials; plans are changed and amended with each new word from Delhi on who, how, and when the prime minister’s group will come. Krishnaji called a meeting of Pupul, Achyut, Sunanda, Pama, Asit, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas, Rajesh, Ventkataraman, Krishnakurtti, and me to discuss the new setup for the school, and suggested that Krishnakutty travel around India for the KFI; finding good teachers, students. There was an absurdly long debate on students’ blue jeans:’ ‘faded ones are banned, but this has been amended to mean’ [both chuckle more] ‘they must be clean, not skin-tight, and not patched.’ ‘Asit was impassioned for jeans—because he had two daughters in the school who wore them.’ ‘Achyut held out for a religious

The twentieth. ‘News of Mrs. Gandhi’s arrival kept changing. We were given badges with our names, and copies of the minute-to-minute program. She finally arrived at 1:40 p.m. by car with her son Rajiv, his wife Sonia, and their two children (a boy and a girl), plus a secretary, a doctor, ministers, and unknown others. Students and villagers met her at the gate. I used the Nikon there and at the planting of a ficus benjamina, then, in the assembly hall, where first Krishnaji spoke and then Mrs. Gandhi. She spoke spontaneously and conventionally. Some of the brighter students with whom I talked later at Shanti Menon’s Hostel’—that’s one of the hostels where the children sleep—‘said she obviously didn’t know what Krishnaji teaches. I spent about two hours at the hostel having tea and talking to keep out of the old guest house, where Krishnaji and Pupul gave tea to Mrs. Gandhi and family. Then, she and Krishnaji talked privately for about an hour, after which Krishnaji took her for the walk along the new path, photographed by Asit and guarded by 450 security people!’ There weren’t enough trees for them to hide behind. ‘Separately, she toured the school grounds by car, inspecting some of the hostels and the rural center. At 7 p.m., under the banyan tree, there was mridangam playing and a ballet. Supper was under moonlight, opposite the dining hall, a long table was set in the middle. Krishnaji had Mrs. Gandhi on his right and son Rajiv on his left. Her family were there, but otherwise, there was only the foreign guests. We at the head table got waited on, whereas everyone else ate buffet-style. I sat opposite Mrs. Gandhi and granddaughter, a quite Western-looking little girl in pigtails with a lilting, precise voice. Asit’s youngest daughter Sonali, who had been one of the students delegated to be with the grandchildren, told her father that she and her brother talk to each other in children’s pidgin English.’ You know, you have to insert something in everything you say. : Anyway, ‘Sonali understood this, and said Rajiv’s children were superciliously critical of everything. It was 9 p.m. when Krishnaji, very tired, finally got to bed.’
December twenty-first. ‘Yesterday, Mrs. Gandhi made an unplanned visit to Thettu and the villagers came to dance for her at 6:30 a.m. this morning in front of the new guest house where she spent the night. I went to see, and then disappeared into my room. Mrs. Gandhi, her family, and Pupul came for breakfast with Krishnaji before leaving, with the cars lined up outside. She is precise in ignoring no one, There was the farewell gesture to the little bent old sweeper woman, who daily whisks the earthen driveway, and she waved to me.’ I was standing up in the building. I didn’t go down to see her off as I felt it would be an intrusion. Anyway, ‘she caught sight of me in the doorway and waved to me, taking a step forward to do so. The cavalcade swept away, and the place seemed to exhale. The electricity promptly failed. Krishnaji and I went upstairs for our own breakfast. Achyut had spoken with a minister, and ten lakhs are to be spent on enlarging a rain catchment on Rishi Konda, which will ensure the whole valley against drought. This and extra telephone lines, and repair of the roads are the promised tangible consequences of the visit. It is said that Rajiv would like to send his children to the school, but his wife doesn’t want to be separated from them. In my eye, Mrs. Gandhi is more of what she seemed two years ago: concentrated, controlled, imprisoned in her life and its power, and lack of affection; at once in the center of possibilities, and cut off from freedom, enjoyment, trust. The death of her son, Sanjay, may have increased all this. The determination remains, but it is without focus, and it is hardening, stalling. Krishnaji, from sitting out last night, and the upsetting of his schedule, has begun to have a cold. Dr. Parchure came to tell me that Krishnaji was planning to go in an open jeep over the dusty, rough roads to look at a dam site on Rishi Konda. I went to talk to him, and he was adamant about it. But, after I left, he called me back, and backed down a little. In the end, he didn’t go. I did his packing and mine.’
The next day. ‘We left Rishi Valley at 6 a.m. instead of the usual 4 a.m. Krishnaji, Asit, Dr. Parchure, and me in the Santhanam car. All the school was out to see Krishnaji off. We stopped for fruit, eating by the roadside. All the villagers that passed stopped to stare in amazement at Krishnaji, saying something we could not understand in Telugu.’ Telugu is the language of that region. ‘In the car, Krishnaji, for Asit, gave a chart of the Theosophic hierarchy: initiates, disciples, arhats, bodhisattvas. Krishnaji, according to Theosophy, is an arhat, i.e., beyond the opposites, beyond ego, a master. He said that an arhat, or bodhisattva, supposedly can live on in his body or give it up. He said that if he did not travel about so much and consequently wear out his body, he probably might live much longer, but, he said with a laugh, an astrologer had just told him he would live another twenty years.’ ‘I said, what about settling down in one place right now and keeping the body as it is. “No, it’s too late,” he said. All this was said in an amused way, not seriously. We reached Vasanta Vihar at 10:45 a.m., unpacked, and had lunch in the upstairs dining room; just Krishnaji, Sunanda, Pama, Asit, Parchure, and I. I took a nap and a bath and went with Krishnaji, Radha, and Asit to Radha’s house. We walked on the beach. The air from the sea was cool and clean. The sound of the surf was good to my ears. I had had a headache during the drive, and at around 11 a.m., I was nauseated, and again at 2 p.m.’
December twenty-third: ‘I stayed in bed with a slight fever and slept most of the day. Dr. Parchure gave me pills and put me on a liquid diet. I felt only weak, the nausea is gone, but sleeping away healed greatly.
 The twenty-fourth: ‘I had no fever in the morning, but it came again in the afternoon. I stayed in bed all day. I got a long letter from Amanda. I read, slept, and worked on biographic notes for Mary Links. Krishnaji talked to the Siddoos, Theo, Hooker, and Asit, about their problems. I was able to attend a press conference that Krishnaji gave in the morning.’
Christmas Day. ‘I stayed in bed all day reading and doing notes for Mary Links, except for lunch with everyone, where I just sat with everyone, not eating anything. Then, back to rest. My fever was down to ninety-nine. Krishnaji is worried, and so Dr. Parchure is being over-cautious, putting me on a fat-free diet so I can have special plain things cooked and served on a tray.’ The constant non-plain food was part of my troubles in India. Somehow, it was alright for a while - I was always eating the least spicy food, the same thing that Krishnaji was getting as Parameshwaram always went very light on chilies.

December twenty-sixth: ‘I stayed in my room resting all day, but Dr. Parchure okayed a walk in the afternoon. I went with Krishnaji and others by car to Radha Burnier’s house and walked on the beach. The sea air was the best cure for me. The annual Theosophical Society Convention is on, so there were many people wandering around. I had no fever today.’
The twenty-seventh. ‘I was quiet all day, still getting all my meals on a tray. I have no fever. I got up for Krishnaji’s first Madras talk at 5:30 p.m. in the garden. There was a very large crowd. Krishnaji had me sit apart to not be in the crowd with germs. He spoke on corruption in this country, and in mankind. The root is attachment. He felt after the talk, that there had been no communication with the audience; but Asit and others said the contrary. The crowds closed in on him at the end, touching his feet, his hands. It makes him squeamish.’
December twenty-eighth. ‘I felt weak, so I stayed quietly in my room till 5:30 p.m., when Krishnaji gave his second talk in the garden. He was engulfed afterward by devotional crowds.’
The twenty-ninth. ‘I finally felt well again, and resumed normal life: meals at the table, etcetera. Krishnaji and I walked on the beach after driving to Radha’s house. At 6 p.m., she joined us, and said the TS convention members wanted to greet Krishnaji if he would walk through the grounds. So, even though he had been tired earlier, he set off at a military pace with Radha, and I behind. As the march progressed, it became quite a parade. It was getting dark by then, and hands in namaste greetings and faces flickered along the road. A few times, Radha paused to introduce someone to Krishnaji; smiles, the greeting, and off we went again. My strength had come back, and my running shoes carried me along like roller skates. The car took us from the gate.’
 ‘The day was not over for me. It is Sunanda’s birthday, and Merali had twenty-five of us to dine at the Taj Hotel. Parameshwaram gave me a tray first, and so I ate nothing else at the Taj, and didn’t feel too tired.’
December thirtieth: ‘At 9:30 a.m. in the big hall, Krishnaji held what was to be a computer-versus-human-brain discussion with Asit and Harsh mainly, but with Achyut, Sunanda, and I participating, too. There was a sizable crowd of listeners present. It was a continuation of Krishnaji’s exploration of whether the human brain has capabilities beyond the computer. He brought it to the point where thought sees it is mechanical and limited, and is silent. Later we walked on the beach, and the sea wind was the breath of health.’
I walked on the beach with Krishnaji and Pama. We were joined by Rita Zampese, who is here for two weeks. Krishnaji had his usual supper in bed. The rest of us had it in the dining room, and there was not a trace of it being New Year’s Eve. Sunanda showed us a necklace she had had put together of rudraksha beads and coral. The beads are seeds of a tree that is supposed to have mysterious qualities. Sunanda demonstrated and held her necklace over a Krishnaji book; in a few moments, it started swinging in a clockwise positive direction. She moved her hand a little, to place it over a different part of the same book, and the necklace reversed and swung the other way. Why? Consternation. I jumped up to look, and the necklace was now over “edited by D. Rajagopal”’ ‘in huge letters! When she moved it back to Krishnaji’s name, and it went clockwise. She then held it over our hands, and all were clockwise.’
And that completes 1980!

 January first 1981

‘I woke up early and began the year in the best of ways: by going upstairs to greet Krishnaji before I saw anyone else. He came down and brought me a white fragrant blossom he finds in the garden. So, the year began with his blessing. At 9:30 a.m., in the big hall, he held what was to be a continuation of Tuesday’s discussion of the human brain versus computers. Is there something the brain can do that is beyond the computer? Unfortunately, too many people were there. Narayan’s brother, Krishna, who is a computer expert, was brought into it by Krishnaji, but a review of the previous discussion had to be made for him and also for a biology fan who spoke up, so there was too much backtracking. Such discussions should be limited to those who have participated from the beginning. In fact, because Krishnaji instinctively tries to bring the audience along, the discussion is held down. In this one, Krishnaji spoke of something beyond the brain, which he called “mind.” Krishnaji kept the “mind” apart, and it was only at the end, with time running out, that he spoke of “mind” as something outside and beyond human thought, something timeless, boundless.’  ‘At 6 p.m., a flutist came with a violinist and mridangam player, and they played for Krishnaji most magically. It was again, for me, a time when Indian music is like water flowing, carrying one, and one is in it and of it.’

On January third, there is only something about my getting our tickets back to London from Bombay on February fifteenth, and ‘Krishnaji gave his third Madras talk.’
On the fourth, ‘Mary Cadogan, Theo, and I worked on her affidavit about KWINC. We telephoned Erna. The connection was so bad that it was very hard to hear, but we managed. Krishnaji gave his fourth Madras talk at 5:30 p.m.’
The next day, ‘I went into the city to get my visa renewed, but they said it was too soon. I must do it in Bombay. At 4 p.m., I met Radha Burnier in her TS office at Adyar, and with her went through files for material about the transfer of Krishnaji’s archives to him in the 1950s, to support our case that the archives were not sent to Rajagopal. From there, we went on to Radha’s house, where Krishnaji came for a walk on the beach.’

The seventh. ‘I went to the American consul with Mary Cadogan and Theo about Mary’s sworn affidavit on archives sent to Krishnaji and not to KWINC. I walked on the beach with Krishnaji, Pama, Radha, and her niece Shubha. When we came back, there was chanting by Brahmin priests.The next day. ‘At 9:30 a.m., there was a meeting with Krishnaji of the Indian, English, U.S., and Canadian trustees, after which there was a large lunch and party at Jayalakshmi’s for everyone. At 4:30 p.m., the students of the Krishnamurti school in Madras put on a play at the school in Damodar Gardens. Krishnaji went. We walked on the beach afterward.’
January ninth, ‘There was again a 9:30 a.m. meeting of Krishnaji and all trustees, and this time the available teachers were included. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji talked with Narayan, Rajesh, Sunanda, Pupul, Nandini, Mrs. Thomas, Achyut, and me on how Narayan can bring about a “genius” mind like Krishnaji’s in students. The walk with Krishnaji on the beach was with Radha &Nandini
The next day, ‘All the trustees and teachers met usefully. At 3:30 p.m., I went to Radha’s office in the TS and composed the text of her statement on the archives being sent by Jinarajadasa to Krishnaji, not to Rajagopal.’ It was important for the case to have this statement that the archives were sent to Krishnaji, and not to Rajagopal, because he claimed that everything was his. ‘I came back with Radha to Vasanta Vihar in time for Krishnaji’s fifth talk.’
On the eleventh, ‘At 9:30 a.m., Krishnaji held a teachers’ meeting. I slept in the afternoon. Krishnaji, at 5:30 p.m., gave his sixth and last Madras talk for the year. Harsh, Claire, their child, and Mark Lee left. Pupul gave me a most beautiful sari.’
January twelfth. ‘I went into Madras center to change travelers’ checks and to the U.S. consulate and other errands. Dr. Sivakamu and Radha came to lunch’—she was another of Radha’s aunts. At 4, Krishnaji chanted with Venkatachalam and Narayan. Except for Krishnaji, all of us dined at Prema Srinivasan’s.’
The next day, ‘I went with Pupul, Radha, Theo, and Jamni Thadhanam to the U.S. consulate, where Pupul, Radha, and Jamni had notarized statements.’ Jamni had been secretary for Jinarajadasa, who was the president of the TS when the archives were sent, and it was she who did the actual posting of the archives to Krishnaji in Ojai at the request of Jinarajadasa. It proved that the archives weren’t sent to Rajagopal, but were sent to Krishnaji.’ I remember I brought back photocopies of all this. Anyway, we got statements about all this notarized. ‘Pupul soon left, but the rest of us were there all morning, getting papers copied, etcetera. Radha lunched with us at Vasanta Vihar, and after, we made files of these papers and originals of the Krishnaji—Jinarajadasa correspondence for Theo to take to Erna. We walked on the beach with Krishnaji, Radha and Rinpoche Sandher.’
The next day, ‘Dorothy was ill in the night but left anyway with Mary Cadogan and Scott for Bombay to continue on to London. At 9:30, Krishnaji held the first seminar discussion with invited scholars. A Rinpoche from Benares, and Professor Khare’—he was an Indian who taught in this country. ‘I was a participant. It was videotaped. I had a nap in the afternoon and a walk with Krishnaji, Rajesh, Radha, and Rinpoche. Alan Hooker and Theo, with all the papers, left for Bombay and on to Ojai. Krishnaji, with Dr. Parchure, thinks I should leave India for my health.’
The next day, ‘Krishnaji withdraws on my leaving. At 9:30 a.m., a second seminar meeting was held with Krishnaji, Rinpoche Sandher, Pandit Jagannath Upadhyaya, Professor Brij Khare, a Ceylon lawyer, Pupul, Sunanda, Achyut, and some others. There was too much rain to walk in the afternoon. Pupul and I dined with Radha Burnier, her aunt, Dr. Sivakamu, Achyut, Rinpoche Sandher, and Pandit Jagannath Upadhyaya.’
January sixteenth. ‘Today was the third and last of the seminar discussions here. At 6 p.m., Rinpoche, Radha, Pama, and I walked on the beach.
The next day. ‘At 7:30 a.m., Krishnaji held a question-and-answer meeting. Afterward, I did desk work. Pupul left in the afternoon. The beach walk with Krishnaji, included Radha, and Murli Rao.’ He was a nice man who lived in Delhi.
January eighteenth. ‘I worked all day on dates for Mary. Krishnaji continues to see people, like Malini. A sannyasi talked to Dr. Parchure about herbs. The walk was with Krishnaji, Radha, and Pama.’
The next day. ‘I packed. Krishnaji talked most of the morning with Pandit Jagannath Upadhyaya. In the afternoon, Krishnaji saw Malini again, and she has finally decided to go to a U.S. university for a degree in education. Krishnaji, Pama, Radha, and I walked on the beach.’
The twentieth. ‘After doing some errands in town, Krishnaji, Achyut, Sunanda, Pama, and I went to lunch with Radha and her aunt Dr. Sivakamu. Krishnaji reminisced and teased Sivakamu about her brother-in-law, Arundale, and all the sins of those days!’  ‘Jamni Thadhanam was also at the lunch table. On Radha’s and my suggestion, Krishnaji visited some of the rooms in the TS headquarterS: Dr. Besant’s, his own, and Leadbeater’s. He remembered almost nothing of them.’ I think that’s when he said that he didn’t remember the big room that he and Nitya had, but he remembered Mrs. Besant’s small office room next to it, and he remembered her sitting on the chowki - a sort of big, shapeless settee sort of thing. He remembered her sitting there, writing letters, and he would sit somewhere else in the room and doze. That’s what he told me at the time, but I hadn’t written it in this book. ‘At 6 p.m., Krishnaji went back for his walk on the beach with Radha and saw the full moon rise out of the sea.’
January twenty-second. ‘We stayed in quietly except for a walk around the race track at 6 p.m.’ That was the Bombay Race Track, and it was a good place to walk. ‘Asit brought two computer experts to lunch, one Indian, Ashok someone, and the other was an American,
The next day, ‘I copied biography notes for Mary Links all morning, then lunched with Krishnaji, Asit, and Radha Burnier. We talked at length about the brain and the mind. I read and rested in the afternoon, then walked after 6 p.m. on the racecourse, Krishnaji, Asit, Devi, Nandini, and me. Krishnaji and I had supper alone.’
January twenty-fourth. ‘I went shopping alone to the cottage industries in Malabar, but was back for lunch. Later, I went with Krishnaji and Asit to the J.J. School of Arts, where at 6:15 p.m., Krishnaji gave his first Bombay talk of the year. People were prevented from mobbing him as he got into the car to leave, but were outside waiting to touch his hands through the car window.
The next day ‘was a quiet day. The Patwardhans came in the morning for a while. Krishnaji rested. I worked on the biography notes for Mary. Krishnaji had a long private talk with Asit. Krishnaji, he, and I lunched. There was a nap and rest. Again, Asit and I drove with Krishnaji to the second Bombay talk held at 6:15 p.m. Supper afterward was with Krishnaji, Nandini, Asit, and me.

January twenty-seventh. ‘At 9:30 a.m., Krishnaji held a discussion with about twenty-eight people on the effects of computers. All thought is mechanical, therefore, it’s the same as the computer, and if that is all there is, there is a deterioration of mind. Afterward, I went with Devi to shop, worked on notes, and then walked on the racecourse with Krishnaji, Asit, and Devi.’
January thirty-first, when Krishnaji gave his third talk, which was in the evening. He said on the way home that ‘he almost stopped talking and left as he just couldn’t feel communication with the audience.’
February first. ‘Krishnaji rested all morning, and we had lunch alone. At 5:50 p.m., Krishnaji, Nandini, and I went to Krishnaji’s fourth Bombay talk, which was at 6:15 p.m., on "beauty, listening & fear". Fear is time and thought. The audience was no different, but it sat utterly still, as the fullness of Krishnaji’s talk rose out of him,’ and they felt something happen. ‘Frenzied hands again reaching to touch him through the car window.’
February second. ‘People came and went, seeing Krishnaji. There was a meeting with him of the Rajghat group. After lunch, Krishnaji gave an interview to Leela Naidu Moraes. The walk with Krishnaji included Nandini, Asit, Devi, Gamsham, and Shubha’—that is the niece of Radha—‘and me. Narayan says he is unwell and can’t come to Bombay, but Krishnaji felt that, for his own sake, he must come.’
The third. ‘There was an interview of Krishnaji by Pupul, filmed for Indian television.’ Then just the usual lunch with people and walk.
February fourth. ‘Narayan arrived from Rishi Valley, and at 5 p.m., Krishnaji had a long talk with him about Usha.’ In the evening there was a dinner given by Amru. She is a sister of Pupul, I think, and Nandini. ‘She gave dinner for Krishnaji and the whole group.’
For February fifth At 10 a.m., there was a KF India trustee meeting to which I was invited. Merali was made a member.’ Then I have these four points:
‘1. Radhika Herzberger and her husband are coming to Rishi Valley in July 1982.’ That is Pupul’s daughter, and her husband Hans. ‘Radhika will be on the executive committee for Rishi Valley.’
‘2. The three Patwardhans’ home is Vasanta Vihar, permanently.’ That would be Sunanda, Pama, and Achyut. ‘KFI members will have the right to live at schools in their old age, if KFI agrees.’
‘3. Teachers will be expected to transfer to other KFI schools for periods of one year from time to time.
4. Narayan is to create, at Rishi Valley, a place where the catalyst that changed Krishnaji as a boy can again take place. “The door is waiting to be opened.” At Madras, too, someone must be there to provide the atmosphere, and it must be for students who are there for Krishnaji’s teachings, and nothing else. There will be no education to become engineers, etcetera, but only a total involvement with Krishnaji’s teachings. “If you do this, the door will open, something will take place. I say this with scientific clarity. This has not happened because I have not stayed in one place.”…“If I stayed in one place, I would do it, but it is not my dharma. My job is different.” There is no goal in this. “Either you are inviting something tremendous, or you invite the devil, like any little ashram.”…“That is the devil, the real dangers—the Rajneesh, the Mahesh Yogi, etcetera.” …“If you ask heaven to bless you, it will bless this. The Foundation is nothing without this, and the Foundation has not done it. The door is there to be opened. It is not me. The thing is waiting, hoping. It needs brains, a global brain. Don’t say, ‘I haven’t got it.’ All that is gone. It is a child waiting to be born.” He said to Narayan, to Sunanda, to Upasani, and to Krishnakutti, “You have said you would do it, and there is no going back. You must have a vital brain, global and dynamic. If you are a woman, you are not a 'woman' anymore, even if you wear a woman’s body. You may have been egotistic in the school, but not here. And if you are not here, you will not do all that there.”
On the seventh Krishnaji gave his fifth Bombay talk.
February eighth. ‘Krishnaji had a long talk with Narayan in the morning, while I worked on notes for Mary L. Krishnaji and I lunched alone. At 6:15 p.m., Krishnaji gave his sixth Bombay talk, a very fine one. The audience sat hardly breathing. “Religion is skeptical inquiry.”…“Meditation is the understanding and ending of knowledge.” There was a frenzy of hands trying to touch him through the car window afterward.’
The ninth. Krishnaji asked me if yesterday’s talk was special, and he said, “It has done something to me.”’
February tenth. ‘At 9:30 a.m., there was a discussion with about sixty people on values, seeing outwardly, and sensitivity. It lasted two hours. Pupul asked Ms. Vimala Deshpande to get my visa extended to the fifteenth.’ I forget who that was. ‘Dr. Parchure’s son, Vikram, is getting married, which was arranged by his brother, Vishwas. It’s a family where all the weddings are arranged by nearest and dearest. The eleventh of February. ‘At 6 a.m., Krishnaji, Pupul, Nandini, Devi, and I in one car; and Sunanda, Achyut, Parchure, and others in two other cars drove one-and-a-half hours to look at land near a bird sanctuary as a possible site for another school. Krishnaji disliked it, and clearly, it was too near Bombay’s pollution.’ I remember it. They had animals in cages, and it was awful. ‘We came back by 9:30 a.m., and Krishnaji was very “off.” When we were there, he said, “Where am I?” He was horrified by the caged hawks and owls. He and I lunched alone. He said, “I feel like never coming back here.” He keeps asking for the reason for the degeneration of India. He is repelled, but said, “I feel I must save this bloody country.” In the afternoon, he had interviews and walked on the race course.’
Twelfth of February. ‘At 9:30 a.m., Krishnaji held another discussion with about sixty people. Devi and I went shopping. Leela Naidu was to cook a French dinner, but she came late with it and was drunk. Krishnaji, Pupul, Nandini, Devi, and I were there.’
February thirteenth, my birthday. ‘I was given a present of a necklace from Nandini and Pupul. Krishnaji rested and slept in the morning. He and I lunched alone. He saw Leela Naidu at 5 p.m. At supper, Pupul described going to see the Nizams’ Jewels for the Indian government.’ The Nizams were, like maharajahs or something, and the Indian government forced them to sell their collection of jewels to the government at a much reduced price.

The fourteenth. ‘I finished packing. People came and went. Krishnaji walked, but I had packed my walking shoes in a bag to leave at Vasanta Vihar, so I didn’t go. After supper, Krishnaji and I both tried unsuccessfully to sleep. Pama took the luggage and passports, etcetera, to check in Krishnaji and me.
February fifteenth. ‘Krishnaji and I were up at 2:30 a.m. Pupul, Nandini came at 3, and we drove to the new Bombay Airport. Almost everyone was there to see Krishnaji off. We flew on Qantas at 4:50 a.m., nonstop to London. First class was almost empty, and it was a smooth ten-hour flight. We arrived at Heathrow at 9:35 a.m., and were quickly through formalities. It was lovely to see frost on the fields, the beauty of winter and bare trees. It is bliss to be here. Krishnaji came downstairs to lunch but slept all afternoon. I spoke by phone to Mary L. Dorothy and I took the dogs for a short walk.’ I remember in the airport at Bombay, they gave us a special sitting room, and all the enthusiasts crammed in and sat, staring at Krishnaji and he said to me something about he felt like a monkey being stared at.

February sixteenth. ‘Frost is all beauty to me. I feel the delight of cold weather. In the morning, Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I discussed what should be done about Frances, who is quiet here now, but unsound. Krishnaji talked to her, with Dorothy and me present, and offered to help her. He will put his hands on her, starting today, and will see her every day in Ojai for the same. But she must stop all yoga, meditation, and whatever else she was doing. She agreed to his conditions, and so Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I went for a walk. I went to the school meeting. In the evening, I talked at length to Shakuntala about Narayan’s situation, which Dorothy has already told her about, at Narayan’s request.’

The eighteenth. ‘ Terence Stamp brought Bernard Levin at noon to meet Krishnaji. Levin wanted to meet Krishnaji about  his TV program. He is doing a series of twelve half-hour weekly interviews, and would like Krishnaji to be the last. It could be taped at Brockwood, immediately on his return from Ojai, around the twenty-fifth of May, for broadcast on the thirty-first of May. Krishnaji talked at length with him after lunch, and then with Radhika and Hans Herzberger, who arrived. When Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I started out at 3 p.m. for the walk, it began to snow! It’s so beautiful.’

February twentieth. ‘We left Brockwood with Dorothy at 8:45 a.m. for Heathrow. Krishnaji and I flew on TWA at 11:20 a.m., and arrived at Los Angeles about 3 p.m. It was slow in customs, but we were out by 4 p.m. Mark and David Moody drove us to Ojai. The Lilliefelts, the Hookers, etcetera were waiting to greet Krishnaji. Elfriede’—that’s my housekeeper—‘had cleaned the house to perfection. We had a light supper and went right to sleep. Krishnaji said later that he’d had a good meditation on the plane. “No people drinking and smoking around.”

February twenty-second, The house was immaculate from Elfriede’s cleaning the day before, and was bright with flowers. So, we are here at last. It is somewhat less familiar to me than Brockwood was for the few days there. Perhaps because something responded in my very bones to the wintry countryside after India, the beauty of bare trees, the delight of frost, etcetera, the lawns and fields, the clean coldness. But this Ojai house will become alive as we live here. Erna and Theo have reported to Krishnaji and me on the state of the case against Rajagopal. Lawyer Cohen is coming here on Tuesday’—that would be in two days—‘to discuss Krishnaji’s and my depositions. This morning, while Krishnaji was talking to the Lilliefelts, Hooker, Mark, and Moody about the school, Michael telephoned that Rajagopal was calling the Arya Vihara number with a message that it was urgent that Krishnaji call him. Krishnaji didn’t. But his ever-present hope that Rajagopal will somehow emerge with some decency was evident. He would’ve liked to telephone him, but realized that he mustn’t without consulting Cohen. Rajagopal telephoned Arya Vihara again at 1 p.m. Michael answered and said that Krishnaji wasn’t there, which was so, but that Krishnaji had received Rajagopal’s message. Then, in the middle of lunch, a wire came from Rajagopal to Krishnaji saying that “court orders would reveal all your letters to Rosalind and to me if the case is pursued.”’ That’s the (K & Rosalind) blackmail.
 The twenty-third. ‘We were in all day, except for lunch at Arya Vihara. The radiant heat system was fixed and serviced. Krishnaji slept most of the afternoon. Cohen telephoned Erna, reporting his telephone call with Christensen’—that’s Rajagopal’s lawyer—‘in which there was a not-very-polite threat of 'letter disclosures'. Krishnaji was not upset by this. He says he is stronger now than in the other case.
The next day, ‘Stanley Cohen came to discuss the case with Erna and me. Then, Krishnaji joined us for two hours. Then, briefly we reported where we are to other trustees, Theo, Hooker, and Kishbaugh. After Cohen left, we lunched at Arya Vihara, and then held a trustee meeting in the afternoon.’

March first. ‘I marketed. It rained. Krishnaji is better and we ate lunch in the dining room. It cleared in the afternoon. ’
The next day. ‘There was rain on and off. The Marogers telephoned from Oxnard. They had arrived early from Japan. I went to fetch them. Meanwhile, Krishnaji went with Theo to the dentist, Dr. Meinig, who pulled an infected upper left molar.’ He had more tooth trouble. ‘He had supper in bed. The Marogers and I ate in the dining room. They are in the guest house.’
March third. ‘It was a beautiful day. Krishnaji, the Marogers, and I walked through the Oak Grove and visited the school, then drove to Lake Casitas and came back in time for lunch at Arya Vihara. We spent a quiet afternoon. Krishnaji’s tooth is not hurting him much. Marogers and I had supper in the dining room and Krishnaji had it in bed.’
The fourth. ‘The rain has returned. I took Jean-Michel to the banK. ‘I did various errands, and everyone lunched at Arya Vihara. After a rest, I prepared dinner. Krishnaji and I walked down to the Lilliefelts’ to have tea with them and the Marogers. The Marogers’ friend, Hertha  Melas, who lives and works at a school in Idyllwild, joined us for dinner. Krishnaji ate at the table, too.’ ‘The Marogers left with their friend for Idyllwild and then the LA Airport to return to France. Krishnaji rested most of the day.’

March sixth. ‘ Professor Brij Khare came with video technicians to look at the living room for a recording of meetings on the weekend of the twenty-first. He stayed to lunch. At 4:30 p.m., Krishnaji talked to Mark and David Moody, Erna, and I about teacher and parent meetings. Krishnaji and I watched the last evening news broadcast by Walter Cronkite, who is retiring from it, though he will do other projects. Dan Rather will take his place Monday.March seventh, 1981, ‘A desk day.’ Well, it goes on about Frances McCann not following Krishnaji’s suggestions and so he feels he can’t help her.

March ninth, ‘Rajagopal’s lawyer, Mr. Terry Avchen, took my deposition in the morning and afternoon. Our lawyer, Mr. Comus, was present throughout. Mrs. Vigeveno turned up. It was held in the sitting room of the guest house. Erna was also present. It finished at 4 p.m. When I went back to Pine Cottage, Krishnaji had Dr. Hidley with him. We walked to the dip. I am very tired.’

The eleventh. ‘Christensen’—that’s Rajagopal’s lawyer—‘telephoned our lawyer, Mr. Cohen, postponing Krishnaji’s deposition from tomorrow until the twentieth, after Rajagopal’s deposition on the eighteenth. He also suggested a compromise. If we withdraw contempt from the charges, the lawyers could discuss who owns the archives.’
‘Evelyne and Michael Mendizza came to talk to me, Erna, Theo, and Alan Kishbaugh about making another film of Krishnaji. We straightened out the differing points of view. After lunch, Krishnaji and I went to the Green Thumb Nursery and chose trees to replace the pepper trees, one on each side of the house, as well as other plants.’
The twelfth. ‘Krishnaji dictated letters. I telephoned Mary in London about Krishnaji’s asking her to be chairman of the publications committee to replace George Digby.’
Digby is retiring from publications. I also telephoned Brockwood. Dorothy is not well. She’s gone for a rest to Cambridge. Shakuntala said Natasha is going to her father, Narayan, during spring vacation. I also spoke with Doris and told her how helpful her Herald of the Star discoveries were in my deposition. Alasdair planted the bushes we bought yesterday. Alain Naudé arrived for supper and spent the night. He’s on his way to San Diego.’
March thirteenth. ‘I spent the morning talking to Alain, who left after lunch for San Diego, then I worked at my desk. I walked with Krishnaji, and we were joined by Erna and Theo as we went down McAndrew Road. A mirror arrived that had been in my room in New York as a child. We will put in the entry here.’
On the next two days, Krishnaji talked to parents and staff of the Oak Grove school. Krishnaji felt ill on the afternoon of the fifteenth.
On the sixteenth, ‘Krishnaji is better but felt delicate. Alain, who arrived here last night, talked to Krishnaji about his own life, and Krishnaji called me in to hear his suggestion that Alain go about finding serious, concerned people for the teachings. Alain went to visit the Lilliefelts. Krishnaji had supper alone in bed while Alain and I ate in the kitchen.’
March seventeenth. ‘Alain left. Krishnaji and I went to Green Thumb Nursery again and bought more shrubs and flowers. Ruth, Albion Patterson, and Catherine Kiernan came to lunch at Arya Vihara. I read my deposition in the afternoon. Rajagopal’s and Krishnaji’s were scheduled for this week, but are postponed due to the settlement talk. Krishnaji and I walked down the road.’
There’s nothing for the next day other than Krishnaji working in the garden with Alasdair. And the day after is just me getting my annual check-up and some errands.
March twentieth, ‘I worked most of the day at my desk, while Krishnaji and Alasdair finished planting the camellias and the azalea beds by the guest house. David and Saral Bohm arrived in the evening. They’re staying here till April sixteenth.’
March twenty-first. ‘At 10:30 a.m., Professor Brij Khare came and brought five high school students to discuss with Krishnaji as the first of a three-day seminar. It was videotaped in color. In the afternoon,
The next day, ‘At 9:30, Krishnaji discussed with college students brought by Khare, and at 11 a.m., Krishnaji conducted another discussion, this time with four high school teachers. Both were videotaped in color. In the afternoon, Krishnaji again planted shrubs in the garden with Alasdair. Max did repairs on the house. I did income tax preparation.’
The twenty-third. ‘At 10:30 a.m., Krishnaji held a dialogue with Khare and a group of college professors. It was videotaped and completed the series.
March twenty-fourth. ‘Two people came to lunch who were inspecting the Oak Grove for the school accreditation. Afterwards, Krishnaji went with Theo to the dentist, and I went to Green Thumb for more shrubs and flowers, then to Cohen’s office to sign my deposition. I talked to both Cohen and Comis. Meanwhile, Krishnaji and Alasdair planted a bigger pittosporum next to where the pepper tree was. The Siddoos arrived to stay at the Lilliefelts’.’

The next day, ‘Krishnaji received a threatening letter from Mima Porter.’ ‘Cohen advises no reply. Krishnaji saw the Siddoos for an hour. They decided to close their Wolf Lake School for at least a year (or...for good ?) .
The twenty-sixth, ‘I continued on income tax work. Krishnaji rested. At 4 p.m., the Siddoos, who had asked for a meeting, came here with Erna and Theo, Alan Hooker, Mark, David Moody, and the Bohms to talk with Krishnaji about school problems.’ Since they were closing their school, I’m not sure what school problems they were interested in.
Krishnaji was gardening. “I felt you coming,” he said. And then he said, “Gardening agrees with me.  I must do it at Brockwood.” Then later he said, “You must outlive me.”
‘Me: “Why?”’
‘Krishnaji: “To look after this person.”’
‘Me: “Others would line up to do that.”’
‘Krishnaji: “I don’t want them.”’

March twenty-eighth. ‘Krishnaji had another discussion with teachers and parents of the Oak Grove School at 11 a.m. Asit arrived from New York. At the Los Angeles airport, he got a Hertz car, and will stay for a few days. He had supper with Krishnaji and me.’
The next day, ‘Asit had breakfast with Krishnaji and me. At 11 a.m., there was a teacher’s meeting with Krishnaji. In the afternoon, Krishnaji did more planting with Alasdair on the east side of the house.’

April first, David and Saral returned from Los Angeles and Laguna, and there was a discussion on computers between Krishnaji, Asit, and David, with teachers and others listening. In the middle of it, Krishnaji began to call 'David' by his first name for the first time.’ He’d only known him for twenty years, roughly. He called me Mrs. Zimbalist for the first seven years that he was my house guest.

April third, ‘At 11 a.m., there was a discussion between Krishnaji and invited guestS: D. Bohm, Dr. Ovenden, Rabbi Singer, Dr. Sarkar, Dr. van Groenou, somebody Rexroth, and Dr. Patricia Hunt-Perry. David Shainberg arrived in the afternoon. All but Shainberg lunched at Arya Vihara. Krishnaji gardened with Alasdair in the afternoon. I went to tea and a discussion without Krishnaji at Arya Vihara at 5 p.m. I also ordered gravel for the east garden.’
The next day, ‘Again, at 11 a.m., the second meeting of the discussion group. All were at lunch at Arya Vihara. In the afternoon, Krishnaji saw privately Rabbi Dr. Singer, one of the group.’
April fifth. ‘There was the third and final discussion with the group at 11 a.m. Krishnaji and I both had a quiet afternoon.’

April eighth. ‘ Krishnaji had seen teachers in a long discussion. Erna says that Rajagopal claims he is in bed with cataracts and a hernia and hasn’t been able to sort out his papers, so next week’s examination by Erna and me of the materials Rajagopal claims are his is impossible.’

The eleventh Max put wooden dividers in the china cupboard to protect them from earthquakes. It was Krishnaji’s idea - those little vertical stops so that, when the house shakes from earthquakes, the dishes don’t fall on the floor. Krishnaji planted Cape jasmine with Alasdair while I walked around the block with Erna and Theo. Krishnaji and I both fell asleep at supper while eating’ ‘with the trays.’ We used to sit in his room, he in his bed with a tray, and I had my tray in the big red Saarinen chair, and we watched the news on television.

 April twelfth, ‘ Krishnaji talked to teachers and parents. I marketed and walked around the block with Erna and Theo. Krishnaji was tired, so he watered the garden a bit. After supper, he went early to sleep.’
The next day, ‘Krishnaji dictated letters, after which I worked at the desk most of the day. Krishnaji finished planting with Alasdair a Cape honeysuckle on the east side of the house, and was tired in the evening.’
The fourteenth. ‘Krishnaji slept well but is still tired. We watched the space shuttle return to Earth and land perfectly on a dry lakebed at Edward’s Air Force Base. Krishnaji said, “How marvelous,” and then, “They don’t have to go through customs.”’ ‘The Bohms and Willa watched it here too.’ Willa was a very good, nice secretary in those days for Erna and the Foundation. ‘ At 4 p.m., Krishnaji and David did a dialogue on "sacredness" and why most of mankind doesn’t reach it. I taped it on the Nagra.’
April fifteenth. ‘I posted my income tax return with the necessary checks, then marketed.  At 4 p.m., Krishnaji held a discussion with teachers and parents, which I taped on the Nagra. Krishnaji watered and did things in the garden until 7 p.m., making for a late supper.’
The only thing of note the next day is that, ‘at 5 p.m. Krishnaji talked for an hour with Dr. Hidley.’
The seventeenth. ‘I worked at the desk most of the day. Krishnaji gardened with Alasdair. We had supper at 6:30 p.m.—a much better time, Krishnaji feels.’ Well, I guess it was earlier than 7 or so, don’t know what was better about it. [S chuckles.] ‘I sent an Easter telegram to Filomena signed Ojai and Malibu,’ meaning the Dunnes and me.

April nineteenth, ‘I spoke to my family at the Vineyard. Krishnaji had another discussion with the teachers and parents at 11 a.m. The Bohms left for Canada in the afternoon. There was rain all day. We rested in the afternoon, and had an early supper. “6:30 suits me,” said Krishnaji.’
The twentieth of April. ‘I again worked at my desk and did laundry. The rain is over. It was a beautiful day, and Krishnaji worked in the garden with Alasdair. Sidney Field brought Krishnaji the manuscript he has written about Krishnaji, a memoir.’  ‘Krishnaji had said on returning for lunch, “I feel very young.”’
The twenty-first, ‘A letter came from Mary Lutyens saying that her sister Barbie had committed suicide. I spoke to our lawyer Cohen about Krishnaji’s deposition, which is on for Thursday. Christensen wanted it postponed so that Rajagopal could “be available,” but Cohen said that Krishnaji was available only this week. Rajagopal is said to be going to have an operation in May. Krishnaji raked the garden with Alasdair. He wore the Mexican straw hat that Alan Kishbaugh brought him.’

The twenty-second. ‘We drove up Maricopa Highway. Krishnaji’s deposition was canceled by Rajagopal as Rajagopal will not be available tomorrow. We telephoned Mary about her sister’s death. I did desk work. Krishnaji gardened. Krishnaji, about the Maricopa drive, said he wished we could have a cabin away from everything. And later he said, “I felt like disappearing.”’

S: Yes.
M: The next day. Krishnaji decided to paint the front door.’ The front door was natural but it got wet with the rain and made water spots. So, we decided to paint it. Krishnaji decided it, but I wanted it done, too. ‘I went for paint, but the store was closed. The house once again is quiet and at peace after people’s departures.’

The twenty-seventh. ‘At 8:30, I went for paint for the door, a Pompeian red; and posted papers to Mary Lutyens. At 10 a.m., there was a trustee meeting: school matters in the morning. Krishnaji attended. Mark and David Moody were there as well. In the afternoon, Krishnaji put the second resin polish on KMN1’—his car, the green one—‘and Booth helped him. The other trustees went on with the meeting. Evelyne brought an NBC request for an interview with Krishnaji on their “Odyssey” program and for taping it on the eighteenth, and Krishnaji agreed.
April twenty-eighth, ‘‘I came back to the house in time for a delivery truck with the two granite nandis’ ‘sent from Madras by Jayalakshmi. It took Max, Alasdair, Ted Cartee, and three men to move, unload, and place each of them. One is on the low wall facing the courtyard and the front door, and the other is on the low wall under the new pittosporum tree off the living room. Krishnaji said, “I am already doing things to them.”’ And I put in parenthese (to make them sacred).’ And he also told me that I must put a garland around them in the beginning to make them 'feel at home'.
 The twenty-ninth. ‘It was a hot day again, ninety-five degrees. We went out to look at the nandis, and gave them flowers, pink ones, this time, as a crown. “This is real worship,” said Krishnaji gaily.’  ‘In the evening, we watched a film on Oppenheimer. Krishnaji was appalled by scenes of Hiroshima. “Mankind must be mad,” he said. The obsession with pleasure may be because people know this is there, said Krishnaji.’

The second. ‘At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji gave his first Ojai talk in the Oak Grove. I sat by the video truck to advise.’ I don’t know why I would’ve done that, but anyway, I apparently did. At lunch at Arya Vihara was just Frances McCann, Michael, Krishnaji, and I. I cooked our early supper. Then, in a misty drizzle, we walked to the Lilliefelts’ to tea with them and the van der Stratens.
The next day ‘At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji gave his second Ojai talk in the Oak Grove. I sat in the video truck, advising again.’ We came back to a quiet lunch at Arya Vihara with Michael. I cooked our supper early.’
May fourth. ‘A new sofa for the guest flat was delivered. Max finished painting the red door. There was telephoning people, and the sorting of questions for tomorrow’s question-and-answer meeting. Vicky Orfali and her brother came by. I looked at video stills of Krishnamurti schools and his voice made by Mendizza. It was quite good. Mrs. Thomas from Rishi Valley is staying at Arya Vihara for a week and was at lunch. I worked on the questions in the afternoon and made supper.’ Instead of at the end of the talks, as he had it in Saanen, Krishnaji would have the question-and-answer sessions between the talks in Ojai.
The fifth. ‘At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji’s first question-and-answer meeting was held in the Oak Grove.

The seventh. ‘ At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji held the second question-and-answer meeting in the Oak Grove. I sat in the video van. We went to the cobbler for shoes in Meiners Oaks, where Krishnaji ordered a pair of sandals for India. Mrs. Thomas of Rishi Valley, who is staying at Arya Vihara, was at lunch, and came to the cottage afterward.’
May tenth. ‘Krishnaji gave his fourth Ojai talk. At the Arya Vihara lunch, there were Pupul, Merali, and Professor Khare. There was talk of Pupul’s book, The Earthen Drum, and what
she felt in writing it.’
May twelfth. ‘It was Krishnaji’s eighty-sixth birthday, but nobody ever mentions that’ ‘on pain of his displeasure.’ ‘So, at 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji held the third question-and-answer meeting in the Oak Grove. There was a tea at the school in the afternoon, and Krishnaji came to it. Krishnaji, Pupul, and I had supper on trays. Then, she, the Lilliefelts, Hooker, Evelyne, and I, with Michael Mendizza, looked at two-and-a-half hours of Mendizza film of Krishnaji.’

The fourteenth. At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji held the fourth question-and-answer meeting in the Grove. The weather was cold and later there was a drizzle. After the meeting, we went to fit his sandals. After lunch, there was a trustee meeting with Mark and David to discuss fundraising for a secondary school. Merali will provide matching funds to what we can raise. Krishnaji saw Bill Quinn and then Frances.’
May fifteenth. ‘Krishnaji slept long and well last night and again in the morning.
There’s one more payment for the McAndrew Road property, and then I’ll turn it over to the KFA in another year.’
The sixteenth. ‘At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji gave his fifth Ojai talk.
May seventeenth. At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji gave his sixth Ojai talk, a deeply moving Eloquent. There was a huge crowd. We stopped to fit Krishnaji’s sandals in Meiners Oaks. Sidney Field, and Ben Weininger’—he was a psychiatrist who lived in Santa Barbara—‘and Fundación people were at Arya Vihara for lunch.

.
May eighteenth. ‘In the green car, taking Evelyne with us, Krishnaji and I left at 11:30 a.m. for Malibu. Krishnaji drove from the poplar trees to Zuma Beach.’ That’s the part of the route he liked to drive, so at that big rock, we’d change places. ‘We had a picnic lunch with us and ate it with Amanda and Phil on their terrace. It was a brief, precious visit for me. We then drove through Malibu Canyon to the NBC Studios in Burbank, where Krishnaji was interviewed by Keith Berwick.’ He had a regular Sunday program called “Odyssey.” ‘Afterward, Richard Chamberlain asked to meet Krishnaji.’ He’s that actor. At 4:40 p.m., Krishnaji, Alan, and I drove back to Ojai via Route 5, Fillmore, and Santa Paula.’
The next day is, ‘Desk work and more desk work, packing, and paying bills.’
May twentieth, We left on TWA at 5 o’clock for London.’
May twenty-first. ‘I slept little on the flight. Heathrow was taking only eight landings an hour due to a strike, but we were lucky and came in around noon. Dorothy and Ingrid met us. Krishnaji exclaimed at the beauty of the greenness of the trees all the way back to Brockwood. The school was out to greet him. Frances arrived from Ojai yesterday. Dr. Parchure and his wife, Vatsala, and Rajesh are also here. Neither Krishnaji nor I could eat, so we rested a little and then Krishnaji wanted to walk. We went with Dorothy to look at where Krishnaji might start a rose garden. Walking around the grove, we saw the azaleas in bloom. I fixed our supper and fell asleep by 8:30 p.m., but not before talking to Mary Links.’
The twenty-second. ‘I spent much of the day unpacking, but had a walk in the afternoon with Krishnaji, Dorothy, and the dogs across the fields. How beautiful it is. I have new bookshelves in my room, which are very nice. Pupul rang from Oxford. She and Radhika’—that’s her daughter—‘Hans, and Maya’—that’s their daughter—‘will come here tomorrow. Krishnaji again spoke of “you must outlive me.” Hence, I must not go to India this year; it is too hard on me physically.’

May twenty-third. ‘I went to West Meon to get coffee, and good butter for Krishnaji. Mary L. arrived early. She, Krishnaji, and I sat and talked at length in the kitchen. Joe joined us before lunch. Then, Pupul came with her family. She is in the West Wing spare room. After lunch, Krishnaji, Mary, Joe, Pupul, Radhika, Hans and I had coffee and talked for quite a while in the drawing room. Mary and Joe left; and after a rest, Krishnaji and I walked with Dorothy and the dogs.’
The next day, ‘I typed the dates of 1976 for Mary.’ That’s for the second biography. ‘After lunch, a nap, then again a walk with Dorothy and the dogs.

May twenty-fifth. ‘A BBC television crew arrived in the morning to set up for the afternoon recording. At 3:30 p.m., Bernard Levin came, and he and Krishnaji did a discussion that was videotaped for Levin’s series on "eight conversations with interesting people " for BBC2. It was done in the drawing room and went exceedingly well, a good interview.’ I’ve thought it was too short. ‘Levin had done no homework, so he didn’t know what questions to ask and he was a little bit baffled by Krishnaji, I think. I may be wrong. Anyway, ‘it was a first-rate technical recording. Pupul and the school were able to see it on the school monitor as it was happening.’
Nothing of note the next day, but on the twenty-seventh, ‘The Mercedes was put in commission.’ That was the gray car that I kept over there for driving Krishnaji. ‘I went to Alresford on errands. At 11 a.m., Krishnaji held an audiotaped discussion on “When there is a ( self-conscious ?) "meditator", there is no meditation.”‘In the afternoon, Krishnaji, Dorothy, the dogs, and I walked, and in the evening, Krishnaji, Pupul, and I watched a tension-filled film on TV about a submarine disaster.’

May twenty-ninth. ‘Krishnaji and I drove to Petersfield and took the train to London. Joe and Mary met us. Krishnaji had a Huntsman fitting, and we then lunched with Mary at Fortnum. We spoke of Alain, his plans and problems. Krishnaji and I went to Hatchards for books, and while he had his hair cut at Truefitt, I ordered spectacles at Meyrowitz. found a taxi and got to Waterloo. Browsed for thrillers and came back by train.’

June first. Krishnaji decided to visit Deventer in September and give two talks in Amsterdam.’ At this particular lunch, Dorothy and I were talking about Anneke opening the Krishnamurti Library at Deventer; she was putting all her Krishnaji books there, which later on we all went to. Krishnaji wasn’t part of the conversation, but Dorothy and I were talking, and I think I said something like, “You know, Dorothy, you and I ought to go to that. Anneke’s gone to such trouble; we ought to go.” And she said, “Yes, let’s. Let’s go in September.” And Krishnaji, who wasn’t part of the conversation, but he heard it, said, “Oh, I’ll come, too, and I’ll give a couple of talks in Amsterdam.”  And so, I thought, “Oh my lord, if Krishnaji just decides he’ll give a talk, we may not get the hall.’ And, unbelievably, or who knows what lies behind these things, the RAI was booked for two solid years (as expected); but it had one weekend where it wasn’t booked, and that’s how he came to have the hall. It was just fate, or "something".

: June second, ‘I worked at the desk. Krishnaji was awakened by thunder at 2 a.m. and stayed awake. So, he slept after breakfast, but talked to students only at noon. I telephoned to reserve our rooms for the night of July third at the Hotel des Bergues’—that’s in Geneva. Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I walked with the dogs; and we considered putting the roses that Krishnaji wants to plant in the old rose garden after all, but in a new pattern with the soil fixed.’ I don’t know what that was.

June fourth, ‘A Mr. and Mrs. Jackson brought two Buddhist monks to lunch, the venerable Ananda Maitreya, an eighty-five-year-old Sri Lankan, and the Venerable Ajahn Sumedho, a younger American abbot of the monastery near Midhurst.’‘Krishnaji, in answer to Mr. Jackson’s question on meditation, spoke to them for almost an hour. In spite of wind and rain, Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I walked. Anneke telephoned that she had engaged the hall at the RAI in Amsterdam for two talks in September. She was triumphant.’
June fifth, The Marogers had just arrived. Diane now walks, although she needs two sticks. Krishnaji spoke after lunch to Mrs. Thomas and Rajesh about Rishi Valley. Then, he saw Diane. Then we went for a short walk. At 5 p.m., Krishnaji spoke to the staff on knowledge, and that it has never transformed man. Krishnaji spoke on the telephone to Anneke. He is very pleased at going to Holland. Then, he spoke to David Bohm, who isn’t well enough to come tomorrow.’
The sixth. ‘Pupul arrived from London for the weekend. After a short walk, Krishnaji spoke to the staff from 5 p.m. for two hours. I talked with Marie-Bertrande and Jean-Michel after supper.’
June seventh. ‘We chased sheep off of the lawn.’ They would sometimes escape from the pasture and come onto the lawn. ‘At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji talked to Genevieve, Gérard, and the Marogers about Gérard starting a school in Neuilly.’ That’s in Paris. ‘At noon, there was a dialogue between Pupul and Krishnaji on death. It was videotaped. The school was listening intently. There was a special atmosphere. Radhika and Hans were there. Later, Krishnaji talked to them, Mrs. Thomas, and Rajesh about Rishi Valley, and the Herzbergers going there. Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I walked in the rain. In the evening, Krishnaji, Pupul, and I watched an old film, Fanny, with Leslie Caron, Chevalier, and Boyer.’
June eighth. ‘Pupul left for London, Paris, and Delhi. Mary Cadogan came down at 9:30 a.m., and all morning she and Jean-Michel Maroger, Gisèle Balleys, Dorothy, and I discussed French publications, and then Saanen matters after lunch. From 4:30 p.m. for an hour and a half, I was in a meeting on Rishi Valley with Krishnaji, Radhika and Hans Herzberger, Mrs. Thomas, and Rajesh.’ A lot of meetings.
The next day Krishnaji spoke alone to the students, and on June tenth, ‘Krishnaji and I took the 10:46 a.m. train to London, and were met by Joe and Mary at Waterloo. Mary went with Krishnaji to Huntsman while I went for a beauty treatment.’ ‘I joined Krishnaji and Mary at Fortnum, where we had lunch. Then we bought jerseys for Vanda, and a lot of books, then caught the train home from Waterloo. Both of us were tired and glad to be out of the city and in the green countryside. On TV, we watched a documentary on foxes living in English cities.’
 June twelfth. ‘I talked to Saral and David Bohm on the telephone. He has been in the hospital for an angiogram and needs a triple heart bypass operation as soon as possible.

The next day, ‘Krishnaji spoke to the school. The Bohms were to come in the afternoon, but David didn’t feel up to it. Krishnaji had some hay fever.’

The next day, I spent most of it ‘working at my desk and worked on chronology for Mary. Krishnaji spoke to students alone, while the staff had a meeting, which I attended, reviewing the entry age of students.

June nineteenth. ‘My brother called from New York, and said that all is ready for Krishnaji and me in the Paris flat. Krishnaji spoke to the staff from 5 p.m. to 7 p.m.’
The next day, and ‘I am still working at my desk. I spoke to Mary and Alain, who is in London for two days on his way from South Africa to San Francisco. Krishnaji spoke to the staff, and described "staying withsomething"; for example: confusion and jealousy. How to stay with something. Total attention changes things. After supper, we watched a documentary on the British Raj, then the broadcast of Levin’s interview of Krishnaji. Krishnaji glanced at it, and then went to brush his teeth and do the dishes.’

The next day, ‘Krishnaji spoke to the school in the morning, and in the afternoon, it was open house at Brockwood. There was a puppet show to which Krishnaji went.’ ‘There was a buffet supper on the lawn. Krishnaji ate upstairs, but came down to join in the chanting for the opening of the concert.’
‘After our lunch at Fortnum’s with Mary, Krishnaji and I went to visit David Bohm at his office at Birkbeck College. Krishnaji then talked privately with Dave, while Saral and I waited outside in the garden. Dave has lost weight and looked pale and vulnerable. Dave goes into hospital tomorrow for open heart surgery and a triple bypass.’ David was obviously frightened to have the operation. ‘Saral is frightened but strong. I sat there and talked very factually about it on the lawn behind the college while Krishnaji was alone with David for almost an hour, trying to reassure him. Krishnaji put his hands on him in healing. He said later that Dave 'clung to him'.

The twenty-fifth. ‘David Bohm was operated on for a triple bypass today. He was in surgery from 8:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. They found arteries in worse shape than expected and there was some damage to his heart. The actual surgery went well, but afterward his blood pressure dropped critically. He was eventually able to be moved into intensive care and only late onto his own support system. On Saral’s behalf, Maurice Wilkins telephoned and reported at length to us. The next forty-eight hours are critical. Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I talked. It was a strong physical feeling of holding David with our combined strength—curious feeling of immovable strength, felt in the solar plexus, as if we were holding with total firmness something that could otherwise float out with the tide. It persisted all conscious hours. When we were alone, Krishnaji said that Dave is weak, is frightened. He described again how Dave clung to him.

Around midnight, Krishnaji woke up and saw a man standing at the foot of his bed. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “I want to see you,” the man said. Krishnaji took him out into the hall and sat with him a few minutes on the stairs. By this time, Dorothy was there. The man, with an Irish name, had written saying he wanted a job, but was put off when his letters became a bit unbalanced. He turned up at Brockwood during the day and was difficult, so he was asked to leave. He made a show of going, but apparently hid in the library, and turned up in the Cloisters around 10:30 p.m. Brian Nicholson spotted him, and rang Dorothy when he became insistent on seeing Krishnaji. Dorothy felt the police were needed, and told Brian to watch him, but the man ran off. Frank was sent to guard the West Wing, but the man must have already got in as he first went into the spare room where Jean-Michel was spending the night.’‘He then went into Krishnaji’s room. Soon, four detectives appeared, perhaps because of the Irish name. Krishnaji went back to bed but couldn’t sleep for two hours. I felt uneasy at having known nothing of all this. There should be some way for me to hear if Krishnaji needs me. Krishnaji says we must lock the West Wing doors at night.’ I’m at the end of hall; I could not hear a thing.

June twenty-six, 1981: ‘Krishnaji had insufficient sleep, as he couldn’t get back to sleep after last night’s intruder.’ ‘I telephoned to Saral. Dave is a little better. Krishnaji spoke to her twice during the conversation. Dorothy drove Krishnaji, Jean-Michel, and me to Heathrow, where we flew on British Air, a 2:30 p.m. flight to Paris. We had a picnic lunch on the way in the car. In Paris, Jean-Michel drove us to La Tour d’Argent. Bud has lent us his flat. Krishnaji and I shopped for a little food, and other things we thought we might need, then walked across the Seine to the back of Notre Dame. When we got back to the flat, we had soup sent down from La Tour. I telephoned Dorothy, who had just heard that Dave was holding his own. I slept fitfully. It is cold in Paris.’
The twenty-seventh. ‘The Marogers came at 1:45 p.m. Then Prema Srinivasan came, bringing briefly her friends Monsieur and Madame Jean-Louis Dumas. They left and Krishnaji, Prema, Marie Bertrand, Jean-Michel, and I had a good lunch at La Tour. The Marogers came with Krishnaji and me to the film Shogun.’  ‘We walked back from the film, and the again the Tour sent down soup, and some other small things. I spoke to Dorothy, again. Dave was briefly taken off the heart machine but had to be put right back on it.’
The next day, ‘Krishnaji slept better. It was cold and drizzly. We walked to the Marogers’ small flat in Rue Seigner, and had lunch with the two of them. We came back in Jean-Michel’s car. Krishnaji slept all afternoon. I gave tea to Daisy and her friends, whom I met for the first time. We talked for two hours. They left and I made potato soup for Krishnaji and me. We ate on trays. Dorothy rang. Dave is off the heart support machine as of this morning, and his heart is holding up.

 June twenty-ninth. ‘It is again cold, fifty-five degrees and raining. Krishnaji is feeling tired. He says his stomach feels heavy. He stayed in bed. I got him a bouillotte. ‘I got him a bouillotte and shopped for food. I made our lunch, which Krishnaji had in bed. At 4:30 p.m., Nadia Kossiakof, who is now well again after her operation in March, and Mar de Manziarly came to tea. Krishnaji came en 'robe de chambre' and talked to Nadia about sharing editing with the French committee.

June thirtieth. At 4:30 p.m., Krishnaji gave an interview to a Madame Rena Dumas.’ That was the friend of Prema’s who had come the day before. ‘La Tour sent down soup, etcetera for supper.

July first, 1981. ‘A most extraordinary event. At supper, Krishnaji told me I must write about him, and that I will do it very well. That neither Mary nor Pupul can do what I can, because I am with him, know what he says, what he feels, and what it is like to be with him day by day. He said I should write about being in Notre Dame today. ‘You will start a book and it will be published. Start now. Start with more than notes. Start the book.’ He got excited about it, and stopped only for a coal barge, as long as a football field, coming around on the Seine near Notre Dame.’ ‘We rushed to the windows. The tug skipper ruled the seas. Then Krishnaji came back to the table and urged me on, saying, “I am excited about it.” I put up my strong inhibitions of the past about writing: the sense of the subject being too vast, and my being too close to him to be able to be the one to write it, and I said I had never intended to write about him. “You will,” he said, “I want you to.” An odd thing in this is that I woke up early this morning and decided to restart these writings, going back to begin with ten days ago, June twenty-second, and catching up. So here is today: I’d begun in my brother’s flat in the Tour d’Argent, where Krishnaji did his breathing exercise for an hour while I went for the Herald Tribune and croissants at the bakery across the street. Later, I went marketing on the Île Saint Louis and puttered back, the shopping bag heavy with artichokes, haricots verts like wisps’,‘a lettuce head like a bride’s bouquet, cresson’—that’s watercress—‘and…fraises des bois.’ Wild strawberries. ‘And a melting brie and a demi-baguette. Then, I ran clothes’ [laughs] ‘through Bud and Lisa’s washing washer and dryer, in the flat. Krishnaji and I walked through the side streets, and then we walked along the quay, to lunch at the Marogers’, Krishnaji lagging behind because he looks at everything.’ ‘So Krishnaji, lagging behind because he looks at everything, laughed at a white china toilet bowl left like a milk bottle at a door and at me for not seeing it. We cut over to the side streets where there is more to see. Krishnaji in his elegance,’ he dressed beautifully as you know, ‘was more eccentric than the students and tourists.’ ‘A pleasant lunch again by Marie-Bertrand. Genevieve Gerard, the young woman who was starting her own school in Neuilly, came to talk about it to Krishnaji and made a good impression. Marie-Bertrand and I did the washing up. Then both Marogers drove us to see the new Krishnaji Information Center ( Rue Fondary) beyond Rue de Grenelle. Pascaline Mallet and Gisela Elmenhorst, who has retired from her (UN translator ) job and will devote herself to the center and the French committee, showed us around. It is a nicely small shop. We left and headed for the Etoile, and where Krishnaji suggested going to Vuitton, as he had thought of a shoulder bag for traveling, and we found one. This gave me much satisfaction.’ ‘We then drove down the Champs-Élysées, past Beauburg, which we hadn’t seen and found ugly.’ ‘The Marogers dropped us off by Notre Dame to walk home. “Let’s go in,” said Krishnaji. We walked around the left to look first at the western rose window, Krishnaji noticing the curve of the arches. He was disturbed by tourists turning away restlessly from a priest in satin vestments and dark glasses intoning a mass.’ ‘We stopped at the blue east rose window, and Krishnaji was alive and eager at the fluted columns, massively holding up the huge cathedral. “They must’ve felt 'something' to build all that,” he said. “But it loses its sacredness in the stream of tourists.” He noticed the crushed cigarettes at the door and was bothered by the empty faces. He would like to send them all away and let the cathedral be cleaned of them and be itself again. He talked impatiently, intently, and we walked along the little park; and he added that Indians, though it means nothing to them, would have lit candles with the rest.’ We came back through the Île Saint Louis, where I had shopped in the morning, and so to our supper and Krishnaji’s pronouncement that it is fine.’

July second. ‘Dorothy rang late last night to say that Montague’s prostate operation is to be this morning. I rang her this evening. It is over and it went well. He will be in the hospital two weeks. Dave is now in the normal ward and is up and walking. It has been a week of surgeries. Here in Paris, it was another gray day, turning to rain by lunchtime, and very quiet for us. Except for going to get croissants and the newspaper, I stayed in. . Marie-Bertrand and Diane lunched with us in the Tour. Diane walked holding tightly to her mother’s and my hand. She was delighted to come, and looked at everything sagely, as did Krishnaji. He was wearing, for the first time, a gray worsted suit he had made in 1973, and his gleaming shoes looked like antique lacquer. They were made, of course, by Lobbs, in the 1920s. As almost always, he pays me the compliment of asking me which tie to wear. He watched a table of Japanese tourists, knew how many there were, and observed the coarseness of some of the lunchers. These 'sorties' out into the world impress him with their degeneration. He sees with impatience the ugliness. He talked a little about his early days in Paris and couldn’t remember at all when I asked how he managed living alone on the Rue des Colonels-Renard.’ ‘Who saw to things? Who cooked, cleaned, did the laundry? He laughs and says he has no idea. His shyness seems to have protected him from advancing women.’ ‘He thinks it’s funny. We had again the splendid dessert of fraises des bois and raspberries surrounding pistachio ice cream, with strawberry sauce over the berries. Krishnaji “treated” Diane downstairs while I went to pay our Tour bill. Krishnaji had said, “Let’s go back to Notre Dame,” but by 4 p.m., when Marie-Bertrand and Diane left, it was raining and very bleak, so he went to bed instead. He spoke again of this book I am to write, saying I must say who I am, how I came into all this, the story of Hirschfeld.’ and how I went to hear a talk out of curiosity. ‘I told Krishnaji at supper of buying a booklet and being unable to finish a page because of ( mentally) arguing with it, then going to the next talk where it dawned on me not to argue, but simply to listen. “You must write that,” he said. “It shows you’re not a disciple, but understand something.” I also described to him my vivid memory of first meeting him alone on the path heading into the Grove just before a talk. The vivid cross of looks and that that is what I think of when he has said to me, “We should have met many years before.” He said we probably would have not been very passionate about the look, “but there would have been something continuing to this. We should have met.” Then he stopped. “No, it is right as it has happened. It is exactly right as it is.”’

July third, ‘I packed. Jean-Michel came and helped us get a taxi and get our five bags into it. We were off to Orly Airport, and the Swiss Air flight. While waiting in the departure lounge, Marie-Bertrand and Daphne came to say goodbye as the family was en route to their home at La Mahaudiére. Krishnaji and I reached Geneva and the Hotel des Bergues at 1:15 p.m., in time for a pleasant late lunch in the Amphitryon, soigneusement, provided by familiar staff.’ ‘Both admitted we were relieved to have left Paris, and to be in Switzerland. This old-fashioned, orderly, immaculately, Swiss-ly clean hotel, with its boring décor, is a comfort in which to find ourselves. Why was Paris all wrong for both of us? Krishnaji confessed the apartment upset him. He had done the 'mysterious exorcising', to both the bedroom he used and the one I was in, but it failed to have its effect. The fact that the decoration of the flat is uncomfortable from our point of view (too ornate, fussy, excessive mirrors, gold faucets, and the oppressive black and heavy flowered fabric on the walls in Krishnaji’s room, etcetera) wasn’t the only reason. There was 'something wrong' in the atmosphere. I tried to sort out what it could be - had the fact of my father’s illness and death left an imprint? Or Olive’s madness?’ Olive was my father’s second wife, and she got more neurotic as she got older. ‘Krishnaji couldn’t say, but something kept him from sleeping there and upset his stomach, too. “Have we become too sensitive?” he asked. I too was not comfortable, but that could have been concern over Krishnaji, seeing to the logistics of his meals, etcetera. I also had, and continue to have, the odd feeling that I have not been in Paris. And I was glad to leave and move onto Switzerland, where coping with daily life is easier, more familiar, and, therefore, one lives on a deeper level. At supper, Krishnaji wondered if the atmosphere of the flat reflects intensely self-centered people. He also said that he was very vacant there; and, therefore, did not dominate the surroundings. He said he had felt especially close to me, had I noticed it? I had, from the time we left Brockwood. He seemed to need my presence and a protection. After lunch, we walked to Patek, where both watches were left for oiling and servicing; then to Jacquet, where an older man waited on Krishnaji. He was not as helpful as the younger man, and so the choice of ties to be made for Joe and Krishnaji went less easily, which tired Krishnaji, and he got vague. But choices were made. ‘We did some small errands at Grand Passage, etcetera, and returned to the hotel for rest. We dined later in the Amphitryon and so to the immaculate cleanness of bed. I telephoned Vanda at Tannegg.’
July fourth. ‘We both slept well, and woke up to sunshine. We had a quiet, lazy morning at the hotel, and then went to the Pharmacie Centrale to get a travel bathrobe for Krishnaji we saw yesterday.” ‘We lunched in the Amphitryon. Krishnaji asked me what I would feel if he died suddenly. He said he felt rather as if he already had. He didn’t explain what he meant by this, but went on to describe what death usually means to most people, the average person, the state of shock that endures at being bereft, left, let down. He thought of all this last week when it was 'touch-and-go' with David Bohm. I asked him what had gone through his mind then, and he said, “I said to myself, he mustn’t die because, first of all, he is a nice man, interested. There are very few of them like that. I said, if he lives, I am going to ask him to leave all that nonsense about the third dimension, the implicate order, wholeness, etcetera. You see, I think basically there must be a conflict in him of which he may be unaware. I would say to him, let’s gather a group of se

(...) let’s gather a group of serious people. Come and settle at Brockwood, don’t travel. You can’t travel anymore. Let’s work together and create a nucleus of people who are intellectually tops and spiritually geniuses. I said I would tell him that.” After lunch, Hertz delivered a little yellow Ford Fiesta and we set off for Gstaad, going gently along the Route du Lac, preferred by Krishnaji. It was a warm, sunny summer day at last. The lake was 'Monet blue' and Krishnaji pointed to trees as we passed them. We had one of our “if we had to live in Europe” conversations—where would we choose?’ We used to talk about that, and ‘Krishnaji said somewhere near here but higher up, looking down at the lake. He said, “Switzerland is safe and stable.” It would be in French-speaking Switzerland. But then he laughed and said, “But I prefer California.”’ ‘We went on all the familiar roads through Mézières, Oron, and Bulle, where we stopped to buy gâteau Bullois.’ ‘We reached Gstaad just after 6 p.m. Vanda and Fosca had come earlier, and have everything in order. The mountains are silent, familiar, inscrutable. I got everything unpacked before disappearing to sleep.’
The next day was ‘a resting day for all. I spoke to Saral Bohm. Dave had his stitches out and goes to a 'convalescent place' in four days.’
On July sixth, ‘ Krishnaji remained in bed until 4 p.m., when he walked down to beyond the Palace Hotel where I picked him up with the car, and took him to Mr. Nicolas for his haircut. As we drove, Krishnaji said, “Put in your journal that I woke up in the night with an extraordinary energy that seemed in the center of the brain. It was there again when I lay down after lunch.” I asked how it affected the body. He said, “The body was absolutely quiet.” I asked if it kept him awake, and he replied, “Oh, no. I fell into a deep sleep.”

The seventh. ‘Dr. Parchure gave Krishnaji homeopathic remedies early, and when I brought Krishnaji his nettle tea, which is the first thing he normally consumes, he said the pain had quickly gone and that he would follow Dr. Parchure’s advice. In the morning, Krishnaji resumed dictating his Letters to the Schools. The KFT has just brought out a booklet edited by Mary Links of the first thirty-seven letters. It made Krishnaji want to go on, so he dictated number thirty-nine. In the afternoon, Vanda and I talked to the agent about renting Tannegg again next summer. The owner wants to sell it for $2 million, but present Swiss law precludes foreigners buying houses here. Vanda and I went to Saanen at 5 p.m., where I described to Joan Muspratt where to look in Geneva for another towel bathrobe for Krishnaji. We went by the tent, which the Brockwood team had put up completely since 7:30 a.m. this morning—one day.
The next day, ‘Krishnaji dictated a Letters to the Schools number forty. He came to the table with Vanda, Dr. Parchure, and me, but rested all afternoon. Krishnaji found it too hot to go for a walk, but sent me on one.’‘I went up the hill and through the woods.’
July ninth, ‘Krishnaji got up for lunch but otherwise stayed in bed. I did desk work, including letters that Krishnaji had dictated. In the afternoon, Vanda and I went to the village and got marooned in the post office during a cloud burst.’
The next day, Vanda and I signed a lease for Tannegg for next summer. Krishnaji and I walked in a light rain to the edge of the wood and Krishnaji asked, “Why did Dr. Bohm care so much that I came to see him?”’
‘Me: “Because your affection, your regard, probably in a human sense, means more than anything to him.”’
‘K: “You mean he depends on me?”’
‘M: “I think there’s too much emphasis on dependence. Affection, friendship doesn’t have to be just 'dependence'. You have known him a long time, and a few years ago I think he became quite depressed because you seemed to lose interest in talking to him. Then he cheered up when you renewed your talks. And two things have just happened: After knowing him for twenty years, when we were just in Ojai, for the first time you used his first name. And just now you went to see him. Something you would normally never do before his operation.”’
‘K: “When he is well I wonder if he can get some really serious people to talk about these things. More than always talking to the teachers.”’
‘M: “You do that over and over at each school you go to.”’
‘K: “Yes, but it should be more.” Later on the walk, Krishnaji said, “Let me ask you something: You have heard me talk so many times. Do you think this person learned it or is it totally new?”’
‘M: “He couldn’t have learned it, because it has not been said. Buddhist teachings have certain similarities, but fundamentally what you say has not been said before. Why do you ask that?”’
‘K: “Oh, I just thought of it.”
‘A little bit later, Krishnaji said, “I’ve been thinking about "consciousness" for the talk.”

‘M:  “If the rat theory is correct it is as if a man can come along’—you, for instance—‘who can pierce limitations, see onto another plane, and that once it is seen, it is possible for others of the human species to see. In answer to your earlier question, you have perceived something not derived from knowledge. It is as if mankind sometimes, rarely, produces a human being with this ability to go beyond, and this becomes an opening in the total human consciousness. It really doesn’t matter if those people in the tent tomorrow understand what you will say or not. You see something, and you utter it.”’

‘K: “CWL,”’—that’s Leadbeater—‘“used to say it doesn’t matter if anyone understands.”’ The Bodhisattva came when the world was in a terrible trouble, every 2000 years or so.”’
‘M: “What I am saying is a little different, not that existing beings incarnate, but that the human species casts up one of its kind with this power to see beyond its limitation of consciousness. The TS wouldn’t have accepted it as intelligence manifesting, would they?”’
‘K: “No, they wouldn’t.”’
‘M: “They made it into "personalities" with names and lives outside of time. Even when I was very young, four or so, I had difficulty with the notion of God in the image of man. It seems somehow so petty. It had to be something much vaster than that.”’
‘K: “Yes, much vaster.”’
‘M: “Also, with you, I am not really interested in a Bodhisattva who incarnates in the body of Krishnaji. You 'are' bodhisattva. It comes from you, not from some other being.” On the return to the chalet, Krishnaji said, “Are you writing these things down? Will you write this?”’
‘M: “Yes.”’

 July twelfth, ‘In the morning, there was fog and light rain. At 10:30 a.m., Krishnaji began his first Saanen talk on 'Consciousness' : how we are programmed, what is man. There was a large crowd. On his return to the chalet after the talk, he slept, but kept waking himself up by what he calls “shouting.” He came to lunch at the table with Vanda, Dr. Parchure, and me; and then slept again until about 5 p.m. As we started on a walk, he said he didn’t feel like walking, but that we should go a little ways. He felt no energy, but as he walked, and I told him more about the computer book, which I finished today, his interest and energy rose, and before we knew it we reached the Turbach Road. He is struck by the fact that as soon as Asit began to talk about computers, he’—meaning himself—‘grasped the whole implication of it. Most people seemed to recoil, react with, “But…” Krishnaji instantly saw the whole meaning, and so did I. In the evening, Saral telephoned that Dave is doing very well in the convalescent place in Frimley, Surrey. As soon as he is home, he wants to talk to Krishnaji, and to come to Brockwood once Krishnaji is there. In the evening, Krishnaji watched an old Fernandel movie in the 'Don Camillo'  series, which highly amused him: the gestures, the talking to God, the very French and very humanness of the character actor.’
The next day was ‘another very gray day with occasional rain. Dr. Parchure bought spices for Krishnaji’s soup to stimulate his digestion. ‘Krishnaji didn’t feel like a walk in the rain. He had me ring Saral to tell Dave not to meditate until he is stronger.’

July fourteenth, ‘The fog lifted by 10:30 a.m. when Krishnaji gave his second Saanen talk, which continued on consciousness: not individual, but human consciousness; the perilous world and how the divisions are dangerous. In the car returning, he said that his stomach again was not right in the night, and he felt so weak he wondered if he could give his talk today. But a tremendous energy came while he spoke, and there was no stomach pain. He was plainly tired, though, and slept deeply “without shouting” for an hour before lunch. I talked to Dr. Parchure. Each day we have tried to adjust Krishnaji’s diet: reduced oil, and omitted whatever he says disagrees with him; but he tends to blame the food, the medicines, etcetera, at random. And those cannot be the causes, or the sole causes. Krishnaji wanted “something spicy” to stimulate his digestion yesterday, so Dr. Parchure made a soup of tomato, ginger, herbs, etcetera. Krishnaji drank it, but said later it 'disagreed with him'. Parchure and I discussed the worrisome possibility of something organically wrong. Last year in Bonn, his upper tract was checked by Dr. Scheef, but I now think that the lower gastrointestinal should be X-rayed. It would upset Krishnaji too much during the talks, so Parchure thinks we must proceed day-to-day, get him through the talks, and then see what to do. Krishnaji came to the table and ate a normal lunch. At 4:30 p.m., he saw Nadia Kossiakof, and then we went for a walk to the Turbach Road.. At lunch, Krishnaji said to me with an amusement in his voice, “One wonders how long 'he' can keep this up.”’ Meaning the talking. ‘This edging of danger is there, and I feel intensely the rare and quiet wonder of so many small and once normal things: the silence of sunlight in summer, a clean and quiet space to read.

July fifteenth, ‘I went to the village on errands. Coming back, I met S. Weeraperuma and Dr. Parchure on the hill and gave them a lift. Weeraperuma spoke of meeting U.G. Krishnamurti, who asked, “Are you here to listen to that clown in the tent?”’
‘Krishnaji shrugged when told this, but then the subject came up at lunch with Krishnaji, Vanda, Topazia, Frances, Marjolaine van der Straten, and Dr. Parchure. I told the story. Topazia, followed immediately by Vanda, defended U.G. Krishnamurti. I said their doing that was indefensible.’ ‘Krishnaji said to Vanda, “You know nothing about it, so don't talk about it '
Dorothy finally arrived just before 6 p.m., and I drove her up to see Krishnaji. Then, I took her to Doris’s, where she is staying. On the return, Krishnaji said I shouldn’t have reacted to Vanda’s defense of U.G. Krishnamurti. He said Vanda has her mind made up about people, like Rosalind and Rajagopal, and won’t say anything against them. I asked what that had to do with U.G. Krishnamurti. Surely, U.G.K is no old friend of hers like Rajagopal and Rosalind. Krishnaji used the word “insult” in describing U.G.K.’s remark, and I asked how can two women supposedly devoted to him for years instantly defend his insulter. Krishnaji replied, “Why do you react?”’ I said, “Of course I react, it appalls me.”
Krishnaji gave up.’ ‘I feel something is intrinsically wrong in this, something false. Later, Krishnaji mentioned it again, and I asked what if it were reversed, and an insult to me had been given? What would he do?’ ‘Krishnaji said, “I would say you are quite mistaken, you don’t know the 'facts'.”’ A circular is also being passed around Saanen by the German Rajesh follower with a pseudonym Premmander, announcing, “Jokes by Bhagwan Shree Rajesh on Krishnamurti, his followers, other ‘saints’ and himself.”’ ‘Dorothy in the car, about all this, said that she has felt for some time, something “subversive” in Vanda’s influence on the Brockwood young who have visited her in Florence.’ That’s interesting. ‘
Dorothy now discourages students from going to visit Vanda.
July sixteenth, ‘Krishnaji said he woke up at 2 a.m., bothered by yesterday. At 10:30 a.m., he gave his third Saanen talk. Dorothy came to lunch with Vanda, Krishnaji, Parchure, and me. Krishnaji ate at the table. Afterward, Dr. Parchure and I went to Gisèle Balleys’s chalet for the annual meeting of the Saanen Gathering committee. The present members, Mary Cadogan, Doris, and I, accepted the resignation, with regret, of Edgar Graf; and confirmed the new memberships of Dorothy and Gisèle and appointed Mary secretary and Gisèle treasurer. Krishnaji’s stomach is still not right and he ate no supper. Dr. Parchure slept in the adjoining room to observe how he was in the night. Before that, Dr. Parchure and I had a long talk. He still feels it is dyspepsia, not something organically wrong. He wants to deal with it as that, and if that fails, we will have to look at it more seriously. We decided to change Krishnaji’s Bircher-Benner sequence of food’—which is fruit, then salad and raw things, then cooked food—‘and start with cooked food.’

The next day, ‘Krishnaji slept quite well. He feels “empty,” but has no pain. Dr. Parchure measured exact amounts of muesli, etcetera, but didn’t give him toast. He is trying to balance the amount of food with the energy needed. Vanda left at 9 a.m. for Florence. At 11 a.m., there was the annual meeting of the foreign committees at Tannegg. Krishnaji, feeling all right, attended and talked of their responsibilities when he is gone: the spreading of the teachings without interpretation, and what constitutes 'interpretation'. Mary Cadogan and Jane Hammond stayed to lunch. Jane had some pain in her back and Krishnaji put his hands, which eased it very much. Krishnaji had lunch in his room, and the new sequence was started–cooked food first, then salad, then fruit. At 3 p.m., Mary, Dr. Parchure, and I drove to Saanenmöser where, at the Sport Hotel, there was a further meeting of all the committees. It went well. Jean-Michel and van der Straten were there. Video and publications were discussed and each committee gave an account of its activities. On our return, Krishnaji had walked to the Turbach Road and has had no pain. The new food sequence continues. In the early evening, there was rain and wind, and a marvelous rainbow over the Wasserngrat, and there was peace in the house.’

July eighteenth, ‘It rained at night. Krishnaji feels well, and slept well. I did the marketing. Jean-Michel is here in Gstaad for the committee meetings, and came to lunch and Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and me. He brought a copy of All One, the first edition of the magazine that Alain Naudé is doing. Jean-Michel didn’t know where it came from until I told him. Krishnaji picked it up and read parts of it, and said, “What has happened to Naudé? Oh no, he’s become a guru.” There are the bits about God that I looked at askance at Ojai in the sample he brought there, and the style is somewhat pontifical, but I will read it later. Krishnaji seemed saddened. “He was intelligent once. What happened to him?” It was too wet to go for a walk, so we each read detective novels.’ ‘Krishnaji is feeling well. Parchure rations his food.’
The nineteenth, ‘There is thick fog. It lifted slowly and slightly to reveal snow on the open spaces of the Wispille and Wasserngrat, and on the dark pines there was a sugar ring of white, two-thirds of the way down. Krishnaji saw flakes falling there, but I must have been in the shower then, and missed them. It was very cold. When I drove Dr. Parchure to the tent at 9:15, there were cars come down from the mountains with four inches of snow on their roofs. In spite of it all, the tent was crammed, and Krishnaji gave a marvelous and moving talk.“I put a lot into that,” he said. I drove up to Tannegg with Mr. Weeraperuma with Dr. Parchure for lunch. Krishnaji was at the table. Weeraperuma again recounted the animosity of U.G. Krishnamurti, and his saying of Krishnaji, “I am going to destroy him.” In the afternoon, Krishnaji saw the Siddoo sisters. They have found an Indian woman they think could be the principal if they reopened the Wolf Lake school in a year. By the time they left, it was too late, cold, and wet for a walk. So we both sank into our respective detective novels.’

July twenty-first, ‘The weather is beginning to thaw. For his fifth Saanen talk, Krishnaji wore a nice Navy-made pullover we bought yesterday at Loertscher-Graa. It was very 'becoming'. The talk was very fineAfterward, he said that he said something new today, and “I had no idea what I would talk about when I began.” He ended the talk at 11:35 a.m. and we sped again to Loertscher-Graa, where, in choosing, he felt a bit dissociated and shaky. “I shouldn’t have come right after the talk,” he said. But it was alright, and we got back to the chalet with some nice jerseys. There was no one extra for lunch, so he ate at the table. At 3 p.m., I took a little plant to Madame Lizie Banzet, who, at eighty-eight, was again at the talks, but is now in the Saanen hospital with a badly broken ankle. She was looking pinkly orange with health, sitting up in a wheelchair in a ward for old ladies, and taking the attitude that if it had to happen,’ specialize in broken bones from all the ski people in winter…’ ‘I came back for a meeting at 4:30 p.m. with Krishnaji, the Siddoos, Dorothy, and Parchure. Plans were discussed to have the possible Canadian headmistress visit Brockwood to learn about it all. Dorothy came on the walk with Krishnaji and me to the river. The weather is warm again. An Alsatian dog jumped at Krishnaji and bit his arm, but he did not puncture the skin through the jacket.’
.’
July twenty-third. At 10:30 a.m., Krishnaji’s gave his sixth Saanen talk. It was very fine.Pascaline Mallet and Gisela Elmenhorst came to lunch. Krishnaji was at the table.  The twenty-fourth. ‘It rained again but Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and I went touring off in the little yellow car to lunch with Suzanne, and Hugues . At 3 p.m., Dr. Parchure and I went to the second afternoon meeting with all the Krishnamurti international committees at the hotel in Saanenmöser, which lasted till 6 p.m. Hugues presided very well. Much was discussed. The only snag came at the end, when Mr. Schneider of the German committee announced proudly that he would have a Krishnaji booklet at a big vegetarian conference in Germany next summer. I questioned this as associating Krishnaji and his teaching with vegetarianism.’ And, of course, Krishnaji never wanted himself or his teachings associated with anything. ‘There were various opinions. Gisela Elmenhorst and the two Finns, Miri and Elza, said, “Ask Krishnaji.” So I did, and he said a definite “No.”’
July twenty-fifth. ‘There is more rain. Jane Hammond came by at 11 a.m. to discuss with me whether she should become a trustee of the KFT as is being suggested.’ Jane was the perfect trustee, but because she was connected with the TS, mostly because she lived near their community in Southern England. ‘She asked if she could be more help than she is at present if she was a trustee. I said we have thought of her for ages as a trustee, but hadn’t because of her TS membership. She said she had not been to any meetings there in years, and the only reason she hadn’t resigned lately is because the one person she admires in the TS is Radha Burnier. She will write to Radha explaining her reason for resigning. Jane leaves Monday. Mary Cadogan left today. A John Streather, who wrote an intelligent letter to Krishnaji last week, came to tea, and Krishnaji joined us when he woke up. He was a nice man, and is going off to teach Indians in Bolivia.

July twenty-sixth. ‘Krishnaji gave his seventh and final talk for the year in Saanen. Dorothy and Frances came to lunch. Krishnaji was at the table. There was computer talk on maybe using Apple computers so as to greatly accelerate academic learning and leave more time for Krishnaji’s teachings.’ ‘Dorothy left and Frances talked to Krishnaji about her wish to make a donation.’ Krishnaji had, for years, discouraged the Foundations and schools from accepting donations from Frances, as he didn’t want there ever to be any hint of taking advantage of Frances. She was trying to persuade Krishnaji that it was sensible for her to make a donation, and her advisors agreed. ‘At 4:30 p.m., a friend of Mr. Mirabet, a Mr. Ferdinand Burgues, came to bring letters and a gift from Mr. Mirabet, who couldn’t come this year as his sister is very ill.’ He always brought a donation for Krishnaji’s work, and was very nice. ‘It was raining only lightly, so Krishnaji and I walked down around Alpina and up behind the hill above Tannegg a new way, and it was quite a walk. Krishnaji is pleased with it. His energy is amazing. We took one wrong turn and were almost mountain climbing before retracing our steps.
The twenty-seventh. ‘It was a cold night. The copyright of Education and the Significance of Life is expiring in November, and if the author is living, it must be reassigned. Krishnaji has therefore removed it from Rajagopal, and today assigned it to KFA as part of the assets of KWINC, which, in the settlement agreement, came to KFA. As other copyrights expire in Krishnaji’s lifetime, he can regain control of them.
The next day, ‘Dr. Parchure and I went to Saanen hospital to arrange a lower gastrointestinal X-ray for Krishnaji next week. Then I did errands such as getting an extra suitcase for Krishnaji. He, Parchure, and I lunched at the table. Some Buddhists with a monk’ ‘dropped in before Krishnaji finished his nap.’ ‘He saw them briefly. Then we went for a walk to the river. I worked on assembling questions for tomorrow’s question-and-answer meeting.’
July twenty-ninth. ‘It was a clear warm day. I took Krishnaji at 10:30 a.m. for his first of the question-and-answer meetings of this year in Saanen. Krishnaji had done most of the choosing of the questions, and I had typed ten for him, of which he answered five. It went very well On coming back to Tannegg, I put on the TV, which was broadcasting the wedding of Prince Charles and Diana in London. Krishnaji was scornful, “What nonsense.” we watched a bit of the royal wedding until Krishnaji came in and said, “Aren’t you going to turn that thing off?”
The thirty-first. ‘It was a hot day. Krishnaji held his third question-and-answer meeting, which winds up Saanen for this summer. Before Krishnaji began, I made an appeal for donations. We need 4,700 more Swiss francs to reach the needed 45,000 Swiss francs. It was a larger meeting and Krishnaji was a fire of energy.

The first of August, 1981. ‘It was quiet at last. I marketed, then Krishnaji, Parchure, and I lunched alone. Nadia Kossiakof saw Krishnaji at 4:30 p.m. Krishnaji and I walked in the woods where it is cooler. The appeal yesterday brought in Swiss francs 6,100 for a total in donations of 46,000. So we have enough for the talks for next year.’
The next day, ‘All is quiet. The tent is gone. The sun shines. Krishnaji, though on a restrictive diet for two days before having X-rays Tuesday, is starting the additions to his  Journal that Mary has asked for to make it long enough for the next publication by Gollancz.  What would become Krishnamurti’s Journal. Mary L. felt sheneeded more than she had to make it long enough. So he was adding to what he’d written before.
The next day, ‘Krishnaji continued to write. I did errands. We ate at noon with Krishnaji’s special restrictive diet for tomorrow’s X-rays. I did another day of fruit fast. I feel repulsion for fruit or anything to eat. Parchure thinks this fruit fast doesn’t agree with me. D’accord.
August fourth. ‘I feel so happy that writing about it pulls me down out of the sky. This morning at 8:30 a.m., Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and I were at the Saanen hospital where, with Parchure watching over the radiologist, Krishnaji had X-rays of his lower gastrointestinal tract. The results are what made me soaringlyhappy. There is nothing wrong with his digestive tract. One finding was a slight sclerotic thickening of the aorta. Parchure says this is a common age symptom and, as other signs such as his low blood pressure, etcetera exist in Krishnaji, it is not a cause for disquiet. So, I have enormous peace of mind. His digestion has been all right since he shifted to not starting meals with fruit and then salad. The order is reversed: cooked food, then salad, then a moderate amount of fruit. No more fruit juices. .
Krishnaji stood the barium needed for the X-ray well, and in an hour we were on our way back to Tannegg. All felt very cheerful. Krishnaji said, “I told you there would be nothing wrong.”’ ‘After his breakfast he continued writing the first of the two pieces Mary needs for the new book. He wants a new soft pen and a loose-leaf notebook, but there were none suitable in Gstaad.’ ‘At 5 p.m., he had his hair cut, and afterwards said, “I feel extravagant. I want to buy something for you.”’ ‘We went to Loertscher’—that’s the store with all the sweaters—‘and we bought a nice brown Pringle jersey for Dr. Parchure. Then we walked in the shade of the woods. The stream was cool and its sound ran through me as part of the happiness I felt. Krishnaji laughed at me and took my hand, and I knew the extraordinary gift of being able to say, “Yes. Now, at this very moment, I am totally happy.”’
He thought I was silly to be so happy that he was well.
August fifth. ‘Another warm day. Krishnaji wrote and I typed it for Mary. I also did errands of getting supplies of Soya Gen and Buerlecithin, which Krishnaji suddenly fancies and wants for Brockwood and India. In spite of the heat, we walked in the woods and my happiness continues, and Krishnaji is aware of it.’ Which means he’s laughing at it.
The sixth. ‘It is a hot day. I went to the hospital to fetch Krishnaji’s X-rays and other records. Krishnaji wrote and I typed. Krishnaji and Dr. Parchure like bitter tastes. So I got a small bottle of Fernet-Branca’— the digestive liqueur that’s often used in alcoholic drinks. It’s a bitters—‘and a large bottle of Cynar’—that’s a French bitter drink that’s made of artichokes—‘which Krishnaji tasted somewhere in the past and pronounces good whenever he sees an advertisement for it.’ ‘Lunch is now embellished with either of these. Krishnaji relishes both.’ ‘Dr. Parchure’—this made me laugh—‘keeps asking, “What is the dose, sir?” as if it were medicine. And both seem to have blotted out the fact that they are taking alcoholic drinks.’ ‘It tastes like cough medicine in my childhood, and I abstain.

August seventh. ‘Krishnaji continued to write. I typed all morning, and in the afternoon sent the first piece that Krishnaji wrote to Mary. We walked in the cool of the woods. We also began a week’s regime of whole rice at every lunch. I telephoned to Mary in the evening, and to Dorothy. Frances got off to Ojai yesterday.’
The eighth, ‘Krishnaji didn’t sleep too well and so didn’t go for a walk. He wrote in the morning and rested in the afternoon. I did shopping and took Dr. Parchure to get frames for eyeglasses. Then worked long at the accumulated correspondence.’
The next day. ‘Krishnaji continued to write in the morning, and I continued to work on accumulated letters. He saw Ortolani at 4:30. Then we walked down around Alpina and up the hill behind Tannegg.’

 August sixteenth. ‘I left at 8:50 a.m. and drove to Geneva airport, gave the car back to Hertz, and flew Alitalia to Rome.’ I went to see Filomena. ‘Filomena and Mario’—that’s her son—‘met me and we drove back to Filomena’s flat. Mistica’—that’s her niece—‘was away al mare’—which means at the beach. ‘ I telephoned Krishnaji from Geneva and also on my arrival in Rome to report that I was safe.’

August eighteenth. ‘Filomena and Mario took me to Fiumicino’—that’s the airport. ‘My 10:30 a.m. Alitalia flight left at 12:10 p.m. When I arrived in Geneva, I telephoned Krishnaji that I was there. I took a Hertz Granada station wagon and drove via Aigle and Pillon to Gstaad. Krishnaji has written me each day. We walked in the woods. He said, “I’ve had enough of Gstaad.”

The twenty-first. Back in Brockwood ‘I spent most of the day unpacking, opening mail, and doing small things around the house. Krishnaji had lunch and spent the day in bed. I spoke to the Bohms. They will come for three days on Sunday. David is better.’

August twenty-third. Saral and David arrived in the afternoon to stay in the West Wing until Wednesday’ ‘Krishnaji talked to David, then we all went for a short walk.’
The next day, ‘I went to Alresford on errands while Krishnaji wrote. Then I spent the rest of the day doing desk work. Krishnaji treated Dave. Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I walked.’

August twenty-eighth. ‘People are arriving for talks. As this was Krishnaji’s “day off,” he stayed in bed. In the afternoon, I drove with Dr. Parchure to Guilford for his Seiko watch, and to Habitat. We were back in time for supper.’
The twenty-ninth. ‘At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji gave his first Brockwood talk of the year. We had our lunch in our kitchen and then Krishnaji went down to the tent for half an hour. At 5 p.m., Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I walked.’
August thirtieth. ‘Krishnaji gave his second Brockwood talk. A very fine one.Mary and Amanda were there and came up to lunch with Krishnaji and me in our kitchen. Krishnaji talked to a Mr. and Mrs. Feller of New Zealand at 4:30 p.m., then he, Dorothy, and I walked across the fields.’

September first. At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji answered three of the questions in the meeting. We lunched in our kitchen.
September third. ‘At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji answered written questions in the second question-and-answer meeting.

September fifth. at 11:30 a.m., K gave a deeply moving talk.Mary and Joe lunched with us in our kitchen. The Indian dancer Chitra Sundaram danced in the tent for the benefit of the school’s scholarship fund. Krishnaji attended the beginning and the end of it, but in between we went for a short walk.
The next day. ‘I went to Krishnaji’s fourth Brockwood talk. It was a warm day, and the crowd was immense. After eating lunch quietly upstairs, Krishnaji went back to the tent briefly.
The next day, ‘Krishnaji said he slept poorly. He spent the day in bed, and lunched on a tray. It was a morning of desk work for me.
September eleventh. ‘Both Marogers arrive for the seminar. I put them in the West Wing. Diane fell and broke her arm last week. At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji held the first seminar, mostly on education. Maurice Wilkins is here, and so is Stuart Holroyd, who wrote The Quest of a Quiet Mind. It is the first time he has ever seen Krishnaji.’ He wrote a whole book about Krishnaji, but he never met him before. ‘I slept in the afternoon, then walked with Krishnaji, Dorothy, Jean-Michel, and Marie-Bertrande.’
September twelfth. ‘The second seminar meeting. Rupert Sheldrake came.’ Maurice Wilkins gave a talk in the evening on nuclear disarmament.’
The thirteenth. ‘It was the third seminar meeting. Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I walked around the fields. In the evening, Rupert Sheldrake gave a talk on his book.’

September fourteenth. ‘Krishnaji held the fourth seminar meeting. I took the car after lunch to the Mercedes place for service in Chichester. Marie-Bertrande came with me. Jean-Michel followed and I came back with them. We shopped in Petersfield at the Bran Tub. Marie-Bertrande is worried about the Russian threat. She told this to Krishnaji on the walk, but he, Dorothy, and I feel the threat won’t materialize.

September fifteenth. ‘The fifth and last meeting of the seminar, after which most people left. Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I walked across the field. Dr. Parchure gave me the last of the nightly back and leg massages. He leaves for India tomorrow.’

The seventeenth. ‘Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I, with Raman to drive the Cortina back, left for Heathrow, where at 9:30 a.m. and we took a KLM flight to Amsterdam. Anneke and Dr. Hans Vincent met us at Schiphol airport, and I rented a Hertz Mitsubishi station wagon. With Hans Vincent to show the way, we drove to the Hotel Kastanjehof in Lage Vuursche, near Hilversum. Krishnaji, Dorothy, Mary Links, Mary Cadogan, and I are staying there. It is a nice, small hotel in the woods. We dined in a special room to ourselves in a restaurant next door.’  Some very nice Dutch lady gave us her whole house. She turned over the entire house to us and just left us with it.

So the next day. ‘Krishnaji had breakfast in bed. The rest of us breakfasted downstairs while Krishnaji rested. Mary Cadogan and Dorothy came with me to reconnoiter the way to the RAI Congress Centrum where Krishnaji speaks, as he did previously ten years ago. We reached there in forty minutes, but had quite a time finding the entrance. We got back in time for lunch. Krishnaji lunched downstairs with all of us except Mary Links, who was out with a friend. After a nap, all of us, including Mary Links, went for a walk in the rain in the woods. We needed it after the large meals here. Krishnaji had supper in bed and slept nine hours.’
September nineteenth: ‘Krishnaji had breakfast in bed. With Mary L. and Mary C., Dorothy in the backseat, and Krishnaji and I in front, we left at 10:20 a.m. for the RAI.’ That’s the big hall in Amsterdam. ‘We just made it by 10:57 a.m. There was a huge crowd. The hall was overflowing. Krishnaji gave a very fine talk. We came back to a 1:30 p.m. lunch, then had a nap. All walked in the woods, by which time it was 6:30 and another huge meal loomed.’
September twentieth. ‘Krishnaji slept nine hours. We drove in the rain to the RAI for Krishnaji’s second Amsterdam talk. Another huge crowd. Up to 5,000, and it was a very fine talk that covered everything. Suzanne and Hugues came to lunch with us, and Joe arrived to join Mary. Krishnaji rested after lunch while Mary Cadogan, Dorothy, Hugues, and I discussed Krishnamurti Foundation matters.
September twenty-first. . We arrived at 11:30 a.m. and visited the Atheneum Bibliotek, where Anneke created the Krishnaji documentation center. It is a pleasant room and it will house a permanent museum of Krishnaji books, audio and videotapes, photographs, etcetera. It is very nice. The Dutch 'Stichting’—that means “committee”—‘had us all to lunch afterward in a restaurant across the river. Then we drove on to Ommen, and Castle Eerde; Krishnaji’s first visit there in fifty years. He got out of the car and looked at it from the edge of the moat, but returned to the car when the students came out of the school.’ It is an international school today. .

The twenty-fourth. ‘Krishnaji and I packed and drove to Schiphol. Krishnaji felt weak in the car. “I’m not quite there,” he said. We took the KLM 2 p.m. to Heathrow. Krishnaji had to walk slowly. He felt “washed out.” He ate only some grapes we brought. Dorothy met us, and Krishnaji relaxed in the car on the drive back to Brockwood. I got him into his warm bed, but he shook as if with malaria. He took hot Ribena’—that’s a fruit drink—‘and three teaspoons of brandy, which worked a cure. He is just overtired. Twice he said, “You are a nice person.”’
September twenty-fifth. ‘Krishnaji remained in bed. In the afternoon, he was feverish. I took his temperature and it was 103.6. I got Dr. Clarke from the Alresford Surgery, who said it was a virus, and to take fluid and Bufferin every four hours to bring down the fever. He took one at 6:50 p.m. after a little soup. He asked me to stay with him and so I was able to take his temperature at 1:30 a.m. when he awoke. It was 101. I gave him another Bufferin at 2 a.m. There was profuse sweating.’
The next day, ‘Krishnaji awoke at 7 a.m. His temperature was 99.2. He took another Bufferin.
The twenty-seventh. ‘At 6 a.m., when Krishnaji woke, his temperature was 98. He is feeling very well. He took a bath while I changed the bed again, and then he had breakfast. His temperature was normal all day, and 99.4 at 5 p.m. He took no Bufferin. A very little sweating in the night. I stayed again near him. He was thirsty at 1:30 a.m., but after some restlessness, he slept well. We had watched the Healey versus Benn vote in the Labour Party conference on TV.’
September twenty-eighth. . Krishnaji talked to me at length about his odd memory. He says he has two strong memories: 1) Standing alone by the river at Adyar, empty of all thought; and 2) Mrs. Besant taking him by the hand, sitting on a chowki and asking him if he accepted as disciples the group present. Then he said he has only one regret, which was not sending away Rosalind and Rajagopal. He spoke of remembrance. “No remembrance of Maria Z. I have "fondness" for you. It’s not a remembrance. That is why it cannot change.”’
The twenty-ninth. ‘Krishnaji’s temperature was normal in the morning. He stayed in his room. I went to Alresford for some errands. In the evening, we watched a film on TV, The Birdman of Alcatraz.’

The next day. ‘On awakening, Krishnaji’s temperature was 98. I went to London for some errands, including getting my hair cut. I was back by 4 p.m. Krishnaji was listless and had a slight fever at 5 p.m., 99.4. I telephoned to Dr. Clarke. Krishnaji took a Bufferin at 5 p.m., and another at 9 p.m.

October second. ‘Krishnaji slept well and his temperature was normal in the morning. Krishnaji did breathing exercises and a few light physical ones. I worked at the desk most of the day. There was a staff meeting at 4:45 p.m. His temperature in the evening was just over normal, but his voice was increasingly hoarse. He coughed before going to sleep.’
The next day. ‘Krishnaji’s fever in the morning was 97.8 Fahrenheit. His voice remains hoarse with some coughing. I worked at the desk all day, but kept checking his temperature. At 5 p.m. Krishnaji’s temp was 99.2.’

The fifth. ‘Krishnaji had what he called a “fidgety” night. His temperature at 6 a.m. was 98.8. I called Dr. Clarke later in the morning, and he came at noon. He asked for a urine sample, which I took to his surgery in the afternoon. Krishnaji shaved off a beard he has grown since Holland.’ ‘He sat up in a chair most of the day, dozing and reading. His temperature at 6 p.m. was 98.6. Normal!’
October sixth. ‘Krishnaji slept well. His temperature is normal. He sat up in a chair in his room all morning. At 2:30, Dr. Clarke brought a doctor, Powell Jackson, to examine Krishnaji very thoroughly. Both agree he has had influenza, and both want him to stay in the West Wing, apart from the school, for a week, and start to build up his strength by walking in the house. I am to keep checking on his temperature. When they left, Krishnaji immediately walked up and down stairs.’ ‘His voice is almost clear. There is a definite change for the better today. I cooked soup for our supper.
The seventh. ‘Krishnaji’s temperature was normal. He sat up in his room most of the day and, though tired, walked up and down stairs in the afternoon. I spent most of the day doing desk work, but also went to West Meon for some errands. The country is so beautiful. I came back via Warnford.’
The next day. ‘Krishnaji’s temperature is normal. I worked at the desk most of day while  Krishnaji read in his chair in his room, and walked in the West Wing. In the evening, we watched the film Jaws on TV.’
Friday the ninth. ‘Dr. Clarke came to see Krishnaji. He said we could discontinue the temperature chart, and he will return to see Krishnaji next Thursday.’ This was on a Wednesday, so it will be a week later. ‘He can go out for a drive or small walk on Monday. I worked at my desk and attended a staff meeting. Krishnaji walked in the West Wing.’
October tenth. ‘I spent much of the day doing desk work. Krishnaji saw the Dalal brothers, who arrived yesterday, for a few minutes after lunch. They gave a generous donation. At 4 p.m., in the West Wing dining room, Krishnaji talked to both Siddoo sisters with Dorothy and me there, and then the prospective Wolf Lake principal, Reeta Sanatanai, was brought in. Krishnaji was tired in the evening, but had stood the extra effort well.’
The eleventh. Krishnaji had a long, serious talk with me on what happened to him at 4 a.m. “The 'door' opened and then shut.” He could have “slipped away.” What would I do if that happened in the future?’ That means he would have died. ‘He sees only Pupul and me to carry on the work. We talked for a long time, and he let me tape it.’

October fourteenth. ‘Krishnaji, for the first time since the illness, dressed and came down to the dining room to lunch. He spoke afterward with a guest, Ms. Winifred Austin, which he said afterward did him good. He, Dorothy, I, and the dogs walked to the lodge and back—Krishnaji’s first step out. It was a cold, gray day in the fifties, but there was no wind. Then Krishnaji went back to bed. We each had supper upstairs. Raman made some Indian dishes for Krishnaji. My cold is not too bad.’
The next day. ‘After lunch, Krishnaji talked at length with Ronald Eyre, who was brought by Jane Hoare.’ ‘Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I walked to the lodge and back, then Krishnaji went to bed. Dorothy had bought Indian food in Petersfield to stimulate Krishnaji’s appetite, and we had it for supper, Dorothy and I eating in the kitchen.’

October eighteenth. ‘I worked some at my desk, but the Bohms came down to lunch. In the afternoon, Krishnaji and Dave talked a bit together while I talked to Saral. Then we all had coffee. Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I walked the dogs at 5 p.m. Erna telephone to know how Krishnaji is.’
The nineteenth. ‘In the morning, Krishnaji dictated Letters to the Schools number forty-one. I telephoned my brother in New York about arriving there on November second instead of earlier. Dr. Clarke came and gave Krishnaji a flu shot and gamma globulin. He gave me a flu shot, too.

October twenty-first. ‘Krishnaji dictated Letters to the Schools number forty-two. I typed what he had written for the Journal. I spoke to Ronald Eyre about the discussion he wants to record with Krishnaji in Ojai in April. Krishnaji didn’t feel like walking. His back hurts him. He says he pulled it doing exercise.’
October twenty-second. ‘Krishnaji rested in the morning. I tried to help with his back massage with liniment, and I continued my typing. I spoke on the phone to Mary Cadogan, who has found a suitable hall for Krishnaji to speak in in London, The Barbican Centre. Krishnaji says to get it for June fifth and sixth. He, Dorothy, and I walked with the dogs.’
The twenty-third. ‘Krishnaji’s back is painful, so he remained in bed all day. I began his packing Asit arrived from San Francisco and will accompany Krishnaji to Delhi tomorrow.’
At 3:30 p.m., Krishnaji, Asit, Dorothy, and I left for Heathrow. Rita Zampese met us there and took Krishnaji and Asit onto the Lufthansa plane.’ She worked for them, so she escorted them onto the plane. ‘It left at 6 p.m. for Frankfurt, where they changed to a Lufthansa nonstop flight to Delhi. Krishnaji was still in pain but said it was better.

February ninth 1982 : ‘Krishnaji left Bombay at 1:50 a.m. in what in India is February tenth, but in our calendar, is still the ninth. He flew on Singapore Airline to London using his new diplomatic passport.’ ‘I telephoned Brockwood at 6 a.m. my time, which is 2 p.m. there. Dorothy says Krishnaji looks wonderfully. Then I spoke to him and he sounds strong and well. It rained.’
The next day, ‘I telephoned Filomena in Rome, and my brother telephoned me. Also, I rang Dorothy to remind Krishnaji to use his green card on entering the United States. The Indian consulate telephoned here to ask if I were meeting him. This was all Pupul’s propping. ‘Krishnaji left Bombay on the tenth on Singapore Airlines, the only airline he says is good because it has couchettes where he stretches out and slept six hours before arriving at Heathrow at 8 a.m. He arrived on his new diplomatic passport. The Indian high commission sent a car to meet him, which was unnecessary because Dorothy was there. I spoke to him by telephone when he got to Brockwood, and Dorothy said he was looking very well. On the twelfth, he did an audio-recorded discussion with David Bohm and Maurice Wilkins for French radio. It was organized by Jean-Michel Maroger. All this activity and travel left not a mark on his face when he appeared, escorted by a TWA person, in Los Angeles. Evelyne joined me to wait for his arrival on TWA 761 from London. He had left at 11:20 a.m. London time and landed here at 2:11 p.m., looking very well. We walked to the parking lot, and then Krishnaji and I drove up the coast and so to Ojai.

‘The greeters departed, and Krishnaji and I walked about the house, looking at everything. The house is shining and clean. The Georgian desk has been put in perfect shape. Krishnaji approved of the camellia bed on the north terrace, which he had wanted and which I had resisted. He was right. We had supper on trays. “Come talk to me,” he said, and then he told me much of the news of India. He is here and life is blessed.
When I finally awoke to get up, it was to the peace of Krishnaji’s being here. Krishnaji got up for lunch. I brought Frances over, and with the Lilliefelts, the Hookers, Vivian, and Michael, we had lunch at Arya Vihara. The walls are now painted white, and the new curtains, rug, lamps, and cushions have made quite a change, and Krishnaji approved. There were afternoon naps for both of us, then supper on trays, and we didn’t use TV.
February sixteenth. ‘Krishnaji and I talked and talked and talked. We again lunched at Arya Vihara and again had naps. Krishnaji has a sore tip of his toe, so he wants to go to Dr. Hara.’‘He said at one point in India Dr. Parchure told him his body was deteriorating, so Krishnaji  “challenged the body,” and it responded with sudden strength and energy.’ ‘It is in him now.’ The body was always his responsibility, he thought. ‘We felt we have too much TV at supper, so we switched it off.’
February seventeenth: ‘I was up early. I made our sandwich lunch and we drove to Malibu on a beautiful morning, where we ate our lunch with Amanda and Phil on their terrace. It was sunny, there was a sea wind, and the familiar everything of Malibu. Krishnaji was shy as he usually is with the Dunnes. We got to Lailee’s office at 2 p.m., and she examined him. She says he may have a cataract in the left eye and should have it examined. She also says that the small hernia he has does indeed need repair. We discussed the operation and his stay at the UCLA hospital where her preferred surgeon for this works. We drove home along the coast where the wild yellow flowers are just coming out into bloom.’ He always liked those flowers. They are right where that big rock is, if you go the coast road. And he always looked for the yellow flowers.

The eighteenth. ‘Krishnaji mostly rested in the morning, but talked to Erna and me about the possible meeting with Rajagopal and Annie Vigeveno. We lunched at Arya Vihara. Tom Krause was asked to lunch so Krishnaji could meet him as a possible KFA trustee. Max was there, too. Of Krause, Krishnaji said, “He seems nice. Serious.” We talked at lunch of the Sheldrake theory. Krishnaji slept in the afternoon. And we had a quiet supper without TV.’
February nineteenth. As Krishnaji thinks the dining room should have, “something bright,” I have ordered chintz curtains for there, too. We drove to Santa Paula, where Dr. Hara looked at Krishnaji’s toe, and solved the problem with a small pad. We drove home.’
The twentieth. ‘I was up early again to get ready. We drove again to Malibu and had our sandwiches with Amanda and Phil on the terrace. Then Krishnaji and I went to Beverly Hills, where I left a beautiful cashmere and merino wool and other materials that Krishnaji brought from India at my dress maker, Gisèle’s. Then we went to UCLA hospital at 2 p.m., and Krishnaji was admitted after a deposit of $6,210.’ They don’t trust you at UCLA. ‘Lailee was there. The two-room suite I had engaged on the ninth floor for Krishnaji in December was only half available, but he has the largest room. Though they have offered me a cot, I preferred the sofa already in the room. The usual tests were made, including a chest X-ray. Krishnaji said, “I feel like crying. I don’t know why.” But he accepted it all cheerfully and said, “Why is there so much fuss over a small affair?” We both went to sleep rather early. The strange surroundings did not make him wakeful. Only once, after supper, when he had dozed off and I tried to pull up his blanket, he awoke too suddenly and shudderingly, not recognizing me right 

February twenty-first. ‘Lailee came by in the morning. She said all of Krishnaji’s tests were excellent, except that his weight is down 3 pounds from his normal 112 pounds. He is 48.9 kilograms now, or 109 pounds. We spent a quiet day, mostly reading. Krishnaji insisted on “doing” my foot. “You must be very healthy. You must outlive me. I’ve been thinking a lot about that. We will talk about it.” Dr. Ronald Tompkins, the surgeon, came to see Krishnaji in the late afternoon. A tall, dignified, pleasant man. He made a good impression on Krishnaji. His surgery is to be early tomorrow at 7:30 a.m. He discussed how much exercise Krishnaji could do during the recuperation. Most of pranayama Krishnaji does involves too much contraction of the muscles near the incision. Simple walking and slow breathing is best. A little later, the anesthesiologist, Dr. Benjamin Ward, came. He is a young, careful, sensitive man; and he also made a good impression. He will have a spinal anesthesia of petrocaine to be used, minus other drugs, with intravenous saline and dextrose. We had a poor supper. It is a struggle here with food. Krishnaji watched an old Kojak on TV. We turned the lights out before 9:30 p.m.’
The twenty-second. ‘I write this in the hospital room. Krishnaji went down to the operating room before 7 a.m. He had showered with special soap as instructed, shaved, and lay in bed looking gleaming, immaculate. “One should dress elegantly before dying,” he said. And then he said, “Wasn’t it Haydn who put on his best clothes to compose?” I replied, “No talk of dying, please.” He responded, “Oh, I’m not going to die.” He said it very firmly. He laughed when I told him the chaplain had come by while he was in the shower to say words of encouragement before surgery. The chaplain, a pale-faced man in rimless glasses, said to tell the patient, “I’ll be rooting for him.”’ ‘Krishnaji laughed at the solemnness of getting on the gurney and went off down the hall on it. I asked the anesthesiologist to talk to Krishnaji during the operation as was done when he was at Cedars-Sinai hospital. Now I must wait.’
It continues in a different ink.there might be a weakness on the left side, which might give in to pressure now that the right hernia is repaired. At 9:50 a.m., word came that the patient was coming out of the recovery room. But it wasn’t until 10:30 a.m. that Krishnaji came down the hall. He looked pale, a little yellowish, and hardly spoke. A private nurse, a stout African-American woman, with several rings and a whiff of perfume, was here for a while. An icepack on the wound. Krishnaji was in some pain and the spinal had not gone from his legs entirely. He asked me to hold his feet. Then he wanted to lie on his left side. Sometime after 11 a.m., he asked me, “Maria, talk to me. I could slip away. The door is open. Do you understand?” I spoke to him, saying that he was here; the operation was over; he must close that door. He must remain here. Tell the body. It must be strong and get well. I kept talking. Then the pain became more severe, seeming to come in waves. Did he want something to stop it? Yes. Demerol had been ordered but I was worried it might be the dose for a normal body and telephoned Lailee. He had a shot at 11:40 a.m., and was in considerable pain until it took effect. Groaning, saying this was much worse than the other operation. He asked me to keep my hand on his diaphragm. The nurse had a call for a family emergency and left. I am sitting by his bed and he is sleeping now without pain. I watch the rise and fall of the blanket as he breathes. They are drilling outside.’
‘At 2:15 p.m., he woke and looked vacantly side to side. I asked him if he was clear in his mind. He had difficulty talking. I said he’d been asleep. Is he all right now? He said it had been very close. When I said he must shut the door, he hadn’t been sure he was strong enough. I said he had been given extra strength in India and he had it to use. He said I mustn’t order it, “If it wants to go, it will go.” I said I was asking, but he could still tell it.’ He was always talking about…the open door as death, yes.
‘Dr. Tompkins came in and spoke to him. In the hall, I spoke of the difficulty of Demerol for Krishnaji, and Tompkins said he would rather Krishnaji endured some pain and not have too much medication. When I came back, Krishnaji said he had been kept downstairs too long, forty-five minutes after they were ready to have him leave, and there was no attendant. The typical things in this hospital, and one reason that Cedars’—the other hospital—‘was better. “I think I’m coming to,” he said.’
‘Evening: Lailee has been here cheerily. She had him look at the incision with a mirror to see how small it was. Krishnaji has not needed further Demerol and is reading his detective novel, a Raymond Chandler. His voice is weak but normal. The unsuitable day nurse had to leave for a family emergency, and later a nice, quiet one came to be replaced at seven by an efficient night nurse with two-inch red nails and a Vuitton bag.’ [Both chuckle.] She did. She had long nails. Bright red. ‘She is quickly and quietly doing things to make everything go well, and Krishnaji’s normalcy has eased me. Lailee says he gets up tomorrow.’
February twenty-third. ‘Krishnaji slept well, on and off. He says there is no pain. The nurse and I got him sitting up, with his legs dangling. Then standing. Then walking once around the room. He was surprised at his weakness. The intravenous tube has been removed. He’s had no further Demerol since the 120 milligram shot before noon yesterday. Dr. Tompkins came by early, and approved of everything. Lailee came by a little later. She said she thought he would be able to go home tomorrow. Earlier, with a private nurse with him, I had gone out to get a plug for his razor, and some tasty food; good yogurt, buttermilk, Häagen-Dazs ice cream, cheeses, fruit. I also went to Bullock’s for two pillows so he can lie down in the car; and, at his insistence, I went to Gisèle to figure out how to use the lovely material he brought me from India. When I got back, he had walked with the nurse to the end of the hall and back. It tired him but was progress.’

‘The day nurse, left at seven and the night nurse, Mary Forbin, came on. It will be good if we can leave tomorrow. Krishnaji senses here the mark of sickness and suffering in these rooms. He has slept well, is free of pain, and wants to leave.’
February twenty-fourth. ‘Dr. Tompkins came in early, and agreed that Krishnaji should go home. The night nurse had given him a bed bath before going off duty, and at 7 a.m., he wore his warm shirt under his dressing gown. I got everything into the car and Krishnaji came down in a wheelchair. He sat in the back with pillows, painfully getting into the car. “Avoid bumps,” he asked, and I drove with care. When we came to the yellow wildflowers along the beach, he said the beauty of that was worth the surgery.’ [Both chuckle.] ‘We reached the cottage a little after 12:30 p.m. Erna and Theo were there. It was very painful for him to lift his legs out of the car, walk slowly up the path, climb the porch steps, and, most of all, to lower himself onto the bed. He sobbed, “It is too much for the body. How did I get into this?” He had seemed to stand the drive fairly well, but this was too much. Erna and Theo kept away, but after a little, the pain was gone, and he asked to see them. Theo had gone at my asking to get Tylenol, suggested by Dr. Tompkins, but Krishnaji said he didn’t need it. He read all afternoon. It was very hard for him to move in the bed, and attempts to fix his condition—the position of his cushions—are unsuccessful. Michael brought a “tasty” lunch, and later at supper, he ate well. But again in the evening, it was painful for him to move. He took my hand, put it on the wound and placed his over it saying, “There, that helps.”’ I used to ask him if he couldn’t heal himself. And he said he only could if my hand was on the thing, and then he did it through my hand. And that way it seemed to work. He did that later on, too, at the end.
.
The twenty-fifth. ‘Krishnaji slept nine hours. He ate a good breakfast, but felt weak. He read all morning. I telephoned Mary Links in London to let her know how he is. Krishnaji gave himself a sponge bath standing in his bathroom, then he walked around the house and on the terrace. Water mustn’t touch the incision until Monday.’ This was written on a Thursday. ‘He doesn’t have much appetite, though Michael brought him tasty, spicy food. I spoke to Lailee in the afternoon. He eventually slept well. Being home with him safe is a blessing.’
The next day. ‘He still has considerable pain whenever he moves. It is wearing for him, but he walked in and around the house and outside. His digestion is working as it should. I spoke to Dorothy at Brockwood.’
February twenty-seventh. ‘Krishnaji is feeling stronger, but the pain remains. He is learning to move less painfully. He went for a walk around the house in the morning. While I went to market in the afternoon, he walked to the gate and back.’
There is only the little diary for almost a week, I’m afraid.
 February twenty-eighth. ‘‘Krishnaji is feeling much better. He wanted the Lilliefelts to come and talk, which they did at 11 a.m. Mar de Manziarly telephoned from Paris. It rained. Krishnaji slept well.’

The third. ‘I went to Green Thumb Nursery in the afternoon for plants that Krishnaji wants and for a 'chaise longue' for the guest house. Krishnaji walked to the gate and back in the morning, and in the afternoon as well. I painted the western nandi with linseed oil.’ When it came, there were instructions for it to be painted in oil to make it stay black, but I stopped doing that because it looks better gray. I don’t know; it didn’t look right black.

The fifth. ‘Krishnaji walked in the early morning. I worked at the desk and new plants were planted. Krishnaji read all afternoon. He still feels, “weak,” and likes staying in bed. We omitted cheese at supper, and that seems to have helped him sleep.’
March sixth: ‘At 11 a.m., there was a meeting of Hidley, Krause, Mendizza, the Lilliefelts, and me about the Krishnaji-Bohm-Sheldrake seminar in April. It was decided that Hidley should be the fourth participant and Krause would do the introduction and part of the epilogue. Later, Erna, on behalf of the Krishnaji Foundation, invited Tom Krause to become a trustee. He accepted. Krishnaji walked three times to the gate.’
The seventh. ‘I awoke around 4 a.m., and remained awake. At some point, I heard Krishnaji call me. I went in and sat with him. We had a light talk. His incision is much less painful. It hurts only when he gets up or down into bed or a chair. He astonishes me. Later, I went to make our nettle tea and brought it to him. He said that he had felt like “going off,” and that 'it was close'. He wondered what it means. It was not “the door opening,” as in the hospital. He thought of calling me, but didn’t want to be melodramatic. It would have been very easy, he said. Later, he spoke of it again. “What would you do if you came in and found me?”’ Then another quote. ‘“It shouldn’t happen now. I still have too much to do.”’
‘In the afternoon, he shaved off the beard he has grown since he was in the hospital.’ I forgot about that. ‘He showered and dressed for the first time since he came back. He put on jeans and a heavy cotton knit we ordered from L.L. Bean a year ago. He is pleased with it, and wants some more to take to India. He looked beautiful and elegant but very thin. He weighs 104.5 pounds. He wanted to walk, so we drove to the corner of Thacher and McNell. The Lilliefelts parked at Grand and McNell, so if he tired, the cars were close.’ It’s level on that part. ‘But Krishnaji set off down McNell at his military clip. And when we reached Grand, he insisted on walking halfway back. Theo followed in the car and picked him up. He was tired after he got back to his room. “My legs are weak.” But it was a good first outing. He fell asleep right after supper, and slept well. I slept on the qui vive. I must live this way.’ ‘In the morning’…oh—‘I slept ''on the qui vive''.’ That means I slept with the door open and was listening. ‘In the morning, I had gone to the Oak Grove School, where five jacaranda trees were planted as a gesture to Katie Marks. David Moody read a page from Krishnaji’s Notebook. Many people were there.’
The eighth. ‘Asit telephoned from Northern California. He will come down next Saturday. At 2 p.m., there was a meeting here of Joe Zorskie, Erna, Theo, Hooker, Mark, and David Moody about the school building. Joe is our go-between with the architect, Zelma Wilson. At 5 p.m., Krishnaji and I walked to the Lilliefelts and then down Grand Avenue to McNell. Theo drove us back to their house, where Krishnaji sat by the fire and told of Rukmini Arundale coming to lunch this winter in Madras, her stupidity, and her messy way of eating, etcetera. It was dark when we came home. Krishnaji had walked a mile.’

March ninth. ‘Erna telephoned after hearing from Cohen’s office that Rajagopal has a doctor’s letter saying he is too ill to have her and me come on the fifteenth to examine the archive material he claims is his property, or to make a deposition as the court has ordered. Erna and Theo came over to tell Krishnaji and me what Cohen proposes to do next. Cohen said he cannot allow Rajagopal to run this case. Either he asks the court for an outside doctor to determine if Rajagopal is really too ill, or for an order to have Erna and me examine the archive material in his house. We chose the latter, which, though unlikely to happen, puts Rajagopal’s refusal on record. Meanwhile, Krishnaji says he will be well enough next Monday to accept Mrs. Vigeveno’s invitation for us to meet Rajagopal and her to talk matters over. I rang Mrs. Vigeveno and said we would come Monday to the K and R office. She had offered her house as “neutral territory,” which Krishnaji takes exception to. “How can those people be so stupid, so insensitive as to call her house ‘neutral,’” he said.’ ‘Annie Vigeveno said she would talk to Rajagopal and let me know.’
‘It rained a little, so we didn’t walk. Krishnaji said in the evening he was glad not to have walked. It has been on his mind to telephone Radha Sloss, who came to Pupul’s to lunch in Delhi.’ Radha Sloss tried to get him to talk to her father (Rajagopal), and he said he would try, and that he would let her know if he did. So, Krishnaji was fulfilling that. ‘She had telephoned me to learn if Krishnaji had arrived. He telephoned her this evening and told her we had offered to meet Rajagopal. She said that if it didn’t work, she suggested he meets with just Rajagopal and her, i.e., without someone to protect him.’
March tenth. ‘In the late afternoon, Krishnaji got up for a walk to the Lilliefelts’, then on to the dip, and back to the Lilliefelts’. We talked to them for a while. He had slight indigestion and ate only soup and crackers and felt alright. He watched a polar bear film on television.’
March eleventh. ‘It rained. We left at 10:45 a.m., and drove to Beverly Hills. We had a picnic lunch in the car, then went to the UCLA hospital, where Dr. Tompkins checked Krishnaji’s incision. All is alright. We went back to Beverly Hills, and chose a chain at Van Cleef.’ That’s this. ‘We left the rudraksha to be mounted that Krishnaji had gotten for me in India. Krishnaji bought two Vuitton suitcases, then we bought Great Earth vitamins and some detective stories. We stopped at Trancas for lunch and got home by 7 p.m. Krishnaji stood all this very well. It had rained in Ojai all day.’

 March twelfth. ‘Krishnaji didn’t sleep well in the night, but did in the morning. He took a hot bath suggested by Dr. Tompkins, and stayed in bed until the five o’clock walk to the Lilliefelts’, on to the dip, and back to the Lilliefelts’. He spoke to Radha Sloss in the morning. She says Rajagopal wants to meet him alone.’ Now that was not news. ‘Krishnaji somehow hurt his left-foot toe walking in the early morning.’
The thirteenth. ‘Jacob Needleman came at 11:30 a.m. to talk to Krishnaji. He tried to persuade Krishnaji to speak in San Francisco under the auspices of the Far West Foundation, a Gurdjieff front.’ ‘Krishnaji, he, and some of us lunched at Arya Vihara, Krishnaji’s first lunch there since his operation. He slept two hours in the afternoon. Asit arrived from San Francisco, talked, and walked with us to the Lilliefelts’ and to the dip. Krishnaji, Asit, and I had supper on trays. Krishnaji’s left-foot big toe is still painful.’ We had more foot troubles in our circles then seems normal.

March fourteenth. ‘At 11 a.m., there was a KFA board meeting. Tom Krause became a trustee. Krishnaji attended part of the meeting. We all lunched at Arya Vihara, including Asit, then we resumed the meeting in the afternoon.
March fifteenth. ‘Asit has been staying with us since Saturday. Krishnaji enjoys talking to him about news of the computer world. Asit says the Japanese are going to spend ten years making a computer that can duplicate the abilities of the human brain. Instead of silicon chips, human cells may be used.’ ‘Krishnaji, the Lilliefelts, and I arrived at Annie Vigeveno’s at 11 a.m. for the meeting with Rajagopal and some of them. Mima Porter and Austin Bee were already there. The seats were in a U-shape with one in front of the fireplace, presumably for Krishnaji. Krishnaji asked where Rajagopal was. Vigeveno said she would explain in a minute; would we be seated and did we object to taping the meeting? Austin Bee had a large tape recorder. Erna was somewhat taken aback by this abrupt question. I merely thought they are doing it overtly instead of under the sofa.’ ‘Krishnaji then asked again where Rajagopal was, and Vigeveno said he was not coming. No excuse. No reason. Krishnaji was shocked. Why hadn’t she telephoned? She hadn’t known, she said. But this was a palpable lie, as Krishnaji noticed that the way the chairs were arranged, he was clearly not expected’—very observant of Krishnaji. ‘Vigeveno began to ask us what we wanted, and Krishnaji interrupted, and said without Rajagopal there was no point in talking. We immediately left, but not until I said that Krishnaji was out of his sick bed and three weeks from surgery, etcetera. We drove to Oak Grove School and talked in the car. It was a shock to Krishnaji because, once again, he had hoped and thought that Rajagopal would, at last, do something decent; and once again, Rajagopal had insulted him. “I will never go to see him again. If he wishes to see me, he will have to come, and he will have to restore the archives,” he said. Mark was showing Asit around the school. They joined us, and after telling them what had happened, we walked around in the sun and looked at the building sites. At lunch at Arya Vihara, Krishnaji spoke of 'goodness' as an absolute, unrelated to any other thing; unrelated to evil; without an opposite. But evil projects an opposite: a 'pseudo-good', not the real. Thinking gets caught in these two, and so is untouched by the real good.’ . He talked about that more than just then. ‘Krishnaji has had since Friday a sore left big toe. At first very sore, now better. I put ice packs on it. We went out to Dr. Hara, the Japanese podiatrist in Santa Paula, taking Asit with us. Hara said it might be gout. While waiting, I began a letter to Vigeveno about this morning’s deceptions.’
The sixteenth. ‘Asit had breakfast and left shortly after eight. I finished a letter to Vigeveno. Krishnaji, and the Lilliefelts, wanted it toned down, which I did only somewhat.’ ‘I sent it off with a copy to Rajagopal. Lailee wants Krishnaji to have a blood test fasting tomorrow. It rained all day. Amanda and Phil are back from their weekend in San Francisco. We lunched at Arya Vihara.’
The seventeenth. ‘The Lilliefelts took Krishnaji at 8 a.m. to the Ojai hospital for a fasting blood test and later for one after eating. I set up his tray, etcetera and drove in the pouring rain to Beverly Hills, taking two-and-a-half hours. I had a haircut, fetched two French suitcases for Krishnaji, then saw the Van Cleef design for the rudraksha mounting. I had a fitting at Gisèle on the Indian fabric Krishnaji brought me and then left quickly at 3:15 p.m. to get ahead of the traffic on the Ventura freeway. I was home by 5:10 p.m. Krishnaji had had his tests. In the evening, Erna called to say that Rajagopal had telephoned her with a message for me and that I should telephone him. He must have had a copy of my letter to Vigeveno. I didn’t telephone him and don’t intend to, but Krishnaji telephoned Radha Sloss, told her what had happened on Monday, and said he would never go there again. If Rajagopal wanted to see him, he would have to come here and give up the archives, putting them where the settlement agreement says they should be kept. Erna said Rajagopal made no apology and no reference to Monday.’

March eighteenth, 1982. ‘Krishnaji was awake in the night. I made him Horlicks, which wasn’t helpful.’ ‘Dr. Lailee says the results of Krishnaji’s tests yesterday show Krishnaji doesn’t have gout, but he has elevated blood sugar. Krishnaji could take a pill, but she suggests I talk to a dietitian about a diabetic diet, and after he tries it, to retest his blood before he goes to New York. I was unable to reach the Ojai hospital dietitian. Krishnaji is not eating enough and needs to put on weight; and diet restrictions will make this even more difficult. At 11 a.m., Krishnaji saw Frances [McCann] and John Hidley about her mental health. She is having anxiety over not being “perfect” and slipping back in her mental state, and is emotional. We lunched at Arya Vihara. Krishnaji slept in the afternoon. It was cold and there was intermittent rain, but we walked to the dip and back.’
Now the nineteenth. ‘Krishnaji slept nine hours. In view of Krishnaji’s need to gain weight, Lailee gave a prescription to lower his blood sugar. I went to the Santa Barbara airport and met Malini at 2:25 p.m. It was a beautiful sight of Ojai returning, with snow on the mountaintops and a blue sky. Krishnaji, Malini, Erna, Theo, and I walked two miles. Malini dined with the Moodys and some others at Arya Vihara. She is staying in the guest house.’
March twentieth. ‘It was a beautiful, clear day. Krishnaji, Malini, and I had breakfast in the kitchen by the fire. Malini and I talked most of the morning. We all lunched at Arya Vihara, then Malini went to see the Oak Grove School. Krishnaji had done exercises in the morning and didn’t feel like a walk. We had supper alone.’

March twenty-second: ‘It was another beautiful day. We lunched at Arya Vihara. Mr. Schwartz installed new flowered curtains in the newly painted white east bedroom. I went in the afternoon to an American diabetic association in Ventura to get diet information, then walked with Krishnaji and the Lilliefelts down McAndrew.
March twenty-third: ‘We packed, and I did house things, lunched at Arya Vihara, and then I prepared the guest rooms for the Bohms. Krishnaji and I walked to the dip. I finished packing before going to bed. Frances and John Hidley decided against her going to New
The twenty-fourth. ‘Krishnaji awakened me at 4 a.m. His inner clock, as always, had awakened him at 3:30 a.m. He has no stomach for breakfast at odd hours, but did eat something, and we were ready when Mark and the Lilliefelts arrived at 6 a.m. with the school van. Ojai was quiet and beautiful, and so it was down the coast and boarded the 9 a.m. United flight to New York. Krishnaji and I had the forward two seats in first class, and Erna and Theo were in another section. We were one hour late taking off due to air controllers in New York. When we landed, Bud with Laurie were there to meet us, and drove Krishnaji and me into the city. We had engaged rooms at the new French-run hotel, Le Parker Meridien. It is half a block from the Carnegie Hall stage door on West 56th Street.’ Oh, that was the reason for going to New York—because he was going to speak at Carnegie Hall. ‘There was rather a wait to check in, but the rooms on the eleventh floor are good. The larger one, which was Krishnaji’s, has a sitting room arrangement with a bed in an alcove, and set off from it and adjoining is a normal-sized bedroom. The staff is French-speaking. The lobby is rather overly marbled. Krishnaji has started the trip well, and we finished the day well by having supper in rooms. Jackie Kornfeld has sent a fine platter of cheeses and fruits and tofu. I had trouble sleeping due to street noises—something was being drilled somewhere, but Krishnaji slept ten hours, waking up only once.
The twenty-fifth. ‘Krishnaji looked well from his ten hours of sleep. There was no sign of fatigue from the trip. My brother sent his car with a driver to take us to the radio station WBAI for a one-hour live interview by a Gary Null starting at noon. He once sent a list of questions to Krishnaji at Brockwood, and I taped Krishnaji’s answers and sent it back for broadcast. Today’s interview was live, in a scruffy studio on Eighth Avenue. The dirt and ugliness of that part of the city is jarring. My brother met us back at the hotel afterwards, and we walked to Orsini, a block east, and lunched together. Bud flies to Paris tonight. Lisa has museum doings there. We said goodbye, and Krishnaji and I walked on in order to time how long it takes to walk to the stage door of Carnegie Hall from the hotel (two minutes), and then we went around the block for a walk. There was a large photo of Krishnaji in the front of Carnegie Hall with “Sold Out” in big letters across it. Krishnaji barely glanced at it. I bought some Pears soaps and found a Burt Lancaster film that was being played at the little Carnegie theater. We came back to the hotel, rested a little, and then Krishnaji said, “Let’s go.” So we went to the four o’clock showing of the film. His expectation of the Lancaster film was a bit bewildered by this one. “What is happening?” he kept asking. He didn’t like it, but stayed. It is the first film we have seen in years, he said.’ That can’t be true. ‘Then we walked east on 57th Street, and he recognized where he was. We went into Doubleday’s and bought some paperbacks. Erna, Theo, and Evelyne had listened to the WBAI broadcast in the morning, and thought it went very well. Krishnaji said the interviewer was full of himself. Krishnaji is surprised that people recognize and speak to him on the streets, in lifts, and in the bookstore.’

March twenty-sixth. ‘ Erna and Theo, and then David Shainberg, came. The latter stayed quite a while and answered Krishnaji’s questions about Rishi Valley, etcetera, which he had recently visited. Krishnaji asked him to think about “joining us” in some way. Not on the board, “that is nothing,” but in some other way. David said he had been thinking of that. Krishnaji and I lunched at Orsini again, rather late to avoid the noise. The food suits Krishnaji, so at least he is getting enough. Just before lunch, he got the shakes, his hands trembling, and I made a blind guess that the pills to lower his blood sugar have overdone it. I put some sugar on a piece of bread as we were waiting for lunch to be served, and in a few minutes the trembling stopped. He ate well. Tomorrow he will omit the pill. We went for a walk over to the park and back. It was rather windy. At 4 p.m., a New York Times man, Paul Montgomery, came to interview Krishnaji. A nice man. Krishnaji noticed how clean his hands were.’
The twenty-seventh. ‘Krishnaji said he had awakened several times, but said he had had meditation. It was a cold morning. We had breakfast without haste and, for once, there was no hurrying about before a talk. Krishnaji was in the lobby when I came down, and we walked the short way to the Carnegie Hall stage door. Theo stayed with Krishnaji and I ducked into the side door to my end-of-row seat. Evelyne and Eloise were there, as were Jackie Kornfeld, Toodie, Philippa, and David. Krishnaji came out to considerable applause. The house was full to the ceiling, many standing. People had been scalping tickets outside at 9 a.m.’  ‘Krishnaji began to speak at 10 a.m. There was some microphone trouble at first, but the audience was very sympathetic. Then his voice came on vibrant, strong as a trumpet, and the Krishnaji magic was there, filling the hushed hall. He wore a brown suit, handsome in front of a golden curtain. He held them for one hour and thirty-five minutes. It was a good, intense talk. We came back to the hotel. Philippa and David also came and, while Krishnaji rested for a while, they and I talked. Then, the four of us walked to Orsini’s, and again had a good Italian lunch. We walked back to the hotel, and Krishnaji rested again, while Philippa and David came with me in search of tofu and apricots. The streets were cold and windy. The noise of the city is a bit much.
The fact that it was the way it was at Carnegie Hall, for me, as a New Yorker, because Carnegie Hall, well…in my childhood, I used to go and hear Toscanini there, and I felt that the good sounds in that hall were in the wood, in the fabric, in the walls somehow; and to have Krishnaji’s voice added to that, in my imagination, gave me great pleasure.
“Sold Out” was a lovely sign to see across his large photograph.
March twenty-eighth. ‘Tickets for Krishnaji’s second New York talk were being scalped at eight-five dollars outside Carnegie Hall this morning.’ ‘The New York Times man, Paul Montgomery, had a quite nice article on Krishnaji. He gave a very fine talk. Earlier, he had said to me in a not too serious way, “How long can I keep this up?” After the talk, Krishnaji and I lunched with David Shainberg at his flat. About ten of us were there, and Krishnaji told some of his stories: the ones about heaven and hell, St. Peter’s, and the man in the red Ferrari.
The twenty-ninth. ‘We were slightly late getting to an 11 a.m. conference put together by David Shainberg and held in the United Nations Plaza building. There were about thirty participants.’ These were supposed to be all psychotherapists, but there were others. ‘Renée Weber, Patricia Hunt-Perry, Jackie Kornfeld, Montague Olman, Evelyne Blau, and Eloise were ones I knew. A Hopi Indian, some musicians, painters, and psychotherapists, too. It didn’t really get off the ground in my view, but seemed valuable to Shainberg. Afterwards, he came with Krishnaji and me to lunch with Narasimhan around the corner from the UN
 ‘Krishnaji ate what Narasimhan ordered, but when we reached the hotel, he was still hungry. I got him a cheese sandwich. I then went out for Belgian and Ferragamo shoes and shoe cream for Krishnaji.
March thirtieth. ‘We were on time to the second Shainberg conference. I felt again that Krishnaji had to pull everyone uphill. David Shainberg lunched with us at Orsini, and it was late, and therefore quiet. Krishnaji ate well and likes it. There was a movie called Death Trap playing at the Sutton Theater, and we went, thinking it would be a thriller. It was a noisy, idiotic lemon. We walked back across 57th Street. New York is beautiful when you look up. Jackie Kornfeld had located Karsh, the photographer. He is in New York and will photograph Krishnaji tomorrow.’ Jackie underwrote that. ‘She has also seen Felt Forum for next year and gave a good report.’ We couldn’t get Carnegie Hall the next year for some reason.’
The thirty-first. ‘It was the third Shainberg conference. Yousuf Karsh, the photographer, was there, studying Krishnaji’s appearance. Shainberg lunched with us at Orsini. Krishnaji and I then went to Karsh’s studio where, from 3:15 p.m. to 5 p.m., he photographed Krishnaji, mostly in black and white, but a few in color. He made Krishnaji have his hands in each pose, which is not characteristic of Krishnaji. I asked him toward the end for some without the hands. We walked back.’ After the photo-shoot, we walked back to the hotel, where Krishnaji was interviewed for WBAI again, this time by Lex Hixon. Krishnaji didn’t sleep well. My impatience at not getting a taxi back disturbed him. We packed.’
The first of April. Bud’s car, with Les Lewis driving, came for us, and took Krishnaji and me to the airport and a noon flight on United to Los Angeles. We arrived at 3:30 p.m. Mark met us and we drove home along the coast. It is lovely to be back. Krishnaji had fainted briefly sitting on the plane, but was full of energy and enthusiasm on the drive and on arrival. The Bohms, who have been here for a week, greeted us.
The second of April. ‘It is a lovely Ojai morning: clear and shining. We lunched at Arya Vihara with the Bohms, etcetera. Two hours after eating, Krishnaji had a blood sugar test at the Ojai hospital lab. It was 170, which is still too high. Lailee increased the pill dosage to one and a half. Krishnaji will be tested again on Monday. We walked to the dip and back. The air was quite cold.’
The next three days are fairly uneventful. On the sixth of April. ‘We took a picnic lunch to the Dunnes’s and ate with them on the terrace. Then Krishnaji and I went to UCLA hospital, where Dr. Tompkins pronounced Krishnaji fit and fine, and then we bought Great Earth vitamins to take to Europe. At 3:30 p.m., Krishnaji’s eyes were examined by Dr. Laura Fox. He has the beginnings of cataracts in both eyes, but the left one is more advanced. There is a possible need for surgery later. Krishnaji said, “The body accepted it.” We got home by 8 p.m., had what Krishnaji called “a good meal,” and went to sleep.’
The next day, ‘My brother telephoned that he and Lisa got from London to New York yesterday in a blizzard. Mar de Manziarly telephoned from Paris to tell us that Nadia’s husband, Nicolas Kossiakof, died. Krishnaji dictated letters. Sidney Field brought his grandson to lunch at Arya Vihara. Krishnaji and I walked with Erna and Theo down Grand Avenue. The results of Krishnaji’s Monday glucose test is 122. The pill Talinase is working. Lailee says he is to continue taking them.’

The next day, ‘It rained. It was Easter that day. ‘At 4 p.m., Krishnaji held another discussion here with Oak Grove School teachers. It came to something infinite—seeing the incompleteness of knowledge can free the mind to different perception.’
April eleventh. ‘It rained all day. At 10 a.m., there was a trustees meeting. Krishnaji was tired and rested all morning. After lunch, at Arya Vihara, he joined the meeting. We had Mark and David Moody come, and we proposed a committee to help in running the school. We walked down Grand Avenue and we watched My Fair Lady on television.’
The next day. ‘After lunch at Arya Vihara, I went to the Santa Barbara airport to meet Rupert Sheldrake and bring him back to Arya Vihara, where he will stay for a week. Meanwhile, Krishnaji held discussions at the house with teachers. Patricia Hunt-Perry came to stay a few days at Arya Vihara.’
April thirteenth. ‘At 10:30 a.m., Erna and I went to the K and R office, where Stuart Comis met us’—that’s our lawyer—‘and also Rajagopal’s lawyer, Terry Avsham, and Austin Bee. We were to examine “archives.” There was nothing that was different from the inventory we made in 1980. It was a complete futility. We were there one hour and came back. We lunched at Arya Vihara. Rupert Sheldrake and Patricia Hunt-Perry came. Both came back here for coffee. Later Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, Max, and I walked. Supper was at 6:30. Early to bed.’
The fourteenth. ‘Krishnaji slept poorly. Too much cheese for supper, he thinks. I worked at my desk and paid income tax. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji saw Mrs. Frumkin for an interview.’  She was a woman who lived in Santa Monica and had people come and see videos. Renee Frumkin. ‘Then we walked down to the Lilliefelts’ for tea with the Bohms, Sheldrake, and Patricia Hunt-Perry. We all walked down to the dip and back.’
There isn’t much the next day, and then on April sixteenth, ‘It was a beautiful day, which I began with much laundry.’ [Chuckles.] ‘Mendizza came with a crew to set up video equipment with three-color cameras for the discussion. . At 4 p.m., Krishnaji, Bohm, Sheldrake, and John Hidley did a one-hour videotaped discussion on what causes mental disorder. After, there was a short walk with Krishnaji, Bohm, and Sheldrake.’
The seventeenth. ‘At 11 a.m. there was the second videotaped discussion with Krishnaji, Bohm, Sheldrake, and Hidley; and a third discussion was done in the afternoon at 4 p.m.’
The next day. ‘It was a warm, clear day. At 11 a.m., Krishnaji, Bohm, Sheldrake, and Hidley did the fourth videotaped dialogue. In the afternoon, Bohm, Hidley, and Krause did an epilogue to it without Krishnaji. Krause did the introduction. The house is finally empty and quiet by 8:30 in the evening. Krishnaji stopped taking the anti-sugar pills.’

The nineteenth. ‘It has been a hot day. Shainberg arrived last night and is staying at Arya Vihara. We all lunched there. Sheldrake left in the afternoon. Krishnaji, Shainberg, and I walked at 5:30 p.m. down McAndrew.’
April twentieth. ‘Evelyne and Mendizza came to film Krishnaji answering questions for their documentary. Radha Burnier arrived in Ojai for two days and came to lunch. In the afternoon, all filming equipment was removed, and Dennis cleaned the house. In the evening, Krishnaji did some special thing to “clean” the atmosphere in the living room.’ ‘The afternoon walk was with Krishnaji, David Shainberg, and the Lilliefelts.’
The next two days are mostly small things, and on April twenty-third, ‘Krishnaji’s blood sugar after five days off the medicine was 115!’ Exclamation point. ‘Lailee said to check again in a month, but meanwhile, all is normal. The Bohms brought Professor Feynman of Caltech to lunch at Arya Vihara. I went to the Oak Grove School horse show. Ulrich Bruger and Magda Sichitiu were also at lunch. She brought her mother and child to Ojai hoping to stay and put the child in the Oak Grove School. Krishnaji met here at Pine cottage with the Lilliefelts, Hooker, Krause, Mark, and David Moody; and a committee to run Oak Grove School was established. Members of the committee are Krause, Mark, Moody, Leslie Hidley, and one teacher.’
The twenty-fourth. ‘Krishnaji dictated letters. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji met here with the trustees and Leslie Hidley, Mark, and David Moody about the new school committee. Then Krishnaji spoke to teachers and parents. We took a short walk.’
The next day, Krishnaji again spoke to the teachers and parents.
On the twenty-sixth. ‘We drove to Beverly Hills for Krishnaji’s 11 a.m. appointment with Dr. Fox. He had a field of vision test and got drops for the pressure in the left eye. I picked up something from Gisèle. We stopped in Westwood for Krishnaji to go to the shaver shop,’ ‘and then we went to Zuma Beach for a picnic lunch, and eventually the Green Thumb Nursery for a ficus tree to replace the one on the patio. “That one was waiting for us,” Krishnaji said. We got home after 4 p.m. and went for a walk with the Lilliefelts.’ It’s a big wide beach, a beautiful beach to walk on.
There’s nothing for the twenty-seventh except that the Bohms left. And the following day, ‘We went to the Oak Grove School for a tree planting and a lunch prepared by a parent who runs a restaurant in Santa Monica. Krishnaji sat at a table with the children. Then he and I went to the IRS office in Oxnard for his tax clearance so he could leave the country. We came back, and Krishnaji worked a little bit with Alasdair planting azaleas that we bought.’
Then, for the next couple of days, there isn’t much of significance until May first. ‘It is a cool, but somewhat sunny day. At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji gave his first Ojai talk in the Oak Grove. He and I had lunch at Arya Vihara with only Michael present. I looked at video of that day’s talk—well done by Mendizza using two cameras and the equipment of the seminar recordings. Krishnaji and I walked to the Lilliefelts’ and back.’
The second of May. ‘It is a nice sunny day. At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji gave his second Ojai talk. Afterward, he said, “Where does the energy come from? It can’t be the porridge.”’

There’s nothing much the next day, then on May fourth, ‘Krishnaji held the first question-and-answer session in the Grove. The lunch afterwards at Arya Vihara was with Kishbaugh and Narayan’s brother again. Later, there was a tea here in Pine Cottage with Mr. Vaid and his son, Magda Sichitiu and her mother and child, Ulrich Bruger, Narayan’s brother, Erna, Theo, Alfonso Colon, and his nephew Jose, after which Krishnaji and I went for a walk.’
The fifth. ‘Dorothy telephoned from Brockwood about buying one of the Woodlands Cottages. Colon and Riesco came to lunch at Arya Vihara. At 4:30 p.m., Krishnaji, the Lilliefelts, and I went to Oak Grove School to look at the sites for new school buildings. Zelma Wilson is the designer.’
May sixth. ‘Krishnaji’s second question-and-answer meeting in the Oak Grove. The Meralis arrived at lunchtime and will stay in the guest flat. He walked with the Meralis, and I went to do marketing

May eighth, ‘There was drizzle, but still, at 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji gave his third Ojai talk.
May ninth. ‘It was a cold day. Krishnaji gave his fourth Ojai talk. Beforehand, he had said in the car, “What will I talk about?” And it turned out to be a very fine one.Brij Khare and wife and daughter were at lunch at Arya Vihara, as was Lou Blau. At 4 p.m., Peter Hewitt gave a piano recital in Libbey Park to benefit the 'matching fund' drive. Krishnaji and I attended the first half. When we came back, he went to bed, where he had supper. Krishnaji said he “did something” to protect the house as we leave it at night.’
The tenth ‘was a cold day. Various people to lunch at Arya Vihara. There was a meeting after lunch of a few trustees, plus Mark and David about the school buildings. Krishnaji spoke to Max. We walked to the Lilliefelts’.’
May eleventh. ‘It is still cold. Krishnaji held the third question-and-answer session in the Oak Grove We lunched at Arya Vihara, where there was Reeta Sanatani who had been principal of the Canadian school, but the school is now canceled. Krishnaji has resigned from the Educational Center of Canada.’ He did resign, but the Siddoo sisters never said he resigned.
May twelfth. ‘Today is Krishnaji’s eighty-seventh birthday. We went to Beverly Hills, with Krishnaji driving the green Mercedes along the coast road. He said, “Every night meditation wakes me.” We reached Dr. Fox’s office at 11 a.m. Krishnaji had a glaucoma test. It’s now fourteen after taking Timoptic for two weeks. My pressure was the same and I had a general eye exam. We fetched the rest of the things from the dressmaker Gisèle’s, then had a picnic lunch on a shady street in Beverly Hills. We went to Bullock’s for eight-hour cream.’ and came back to Ojai, Krishnaji again driving along the coast. Patrick Lashley had put new shelves in the garden storage.’ He was a nice carpenter. ‘Krishnaji was tired, but marvelously well on this birthday.’
The thirteenth. ‘At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji held his fourth question-and-answer meeting in the Oak Grove. We, again, went to the cobbler, and then the chemist on the way back. We lunched at Arya Vihara. Bill Quinn was a guest. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji and I went to a tea at Oak Grove School for the helpers and guests.’
May fourteenth. ‘Erna called me to say Rajagopal is trying to reach me. I telephoned him. He wants to send five boxes’ of material to Krishnaji to be delivered personally in my presence. At around 10 a.m., Austin Bee came with five file boxes. Krishnaji came to the front door and received them. Krishnaji had Erna and Theo come over and the contents of all five boxes were examined. There were manuscripts of Krishnaji’s; letters from Nitya, Annie Besant, and Emily Lutyens; original accounts of the pepper tree event; and much else. Erna, Theo, and I made an inventory. Later, Krishnaji had me call Rajagopal and thank him deeply, and say that Krishnaji hoped that more material will come, and we can avoid going to court.
May fifteenth. ‘Krishnaji had leg cramps in the night. At 11:30 a.m., he gave the fifth Ojai talk, which moved me to tears.

The sixteenth. ‘It is a warm day. The crowd for the sixth talk was huge. Austin Bee handed Krishnaji a note from Rajagopal as he arrived. Krishnaji read it only after the talk on his return home. Rajagopal wanted Krishnaji to announce at the talk that they were friends. Later Krishnaji had me telephone and read a message Krishnaji wrote to Rajagopal, thanking him, and asking him if it meant he was turning over the rest of the things. Rajagopal said it has nothing to do with turning anything over or with the lawsuit. The Blaus were both at lunch. It was again too hot to walk. Erna had announced at the talk that the goal of the matching fund had been reached.’
May the seventeenth. ‘It was a hot day. The Meralis left after lunch. Krishnaji was tired and worried about who carries on after he, I, and the Lilliefelts are gone. He talked all morning to us about it, and at 5 p.m., he had a meeting of the Lilliefelts, Evelyne, Hooker, Moody, Mark, Krause, and Booth Harris and talked about it. Are they committed to all this?
The eighteenth. ‘It was a day of desk work and packing for me. Krishnaji’s new will arrived from Cohen, and he signed it after lunch with Evelyne and Willa as witnesses.
May nineteenth. ‘I went to Beverly Hills, had my hair cut, and fetched protein powder for Krishnaji.

May twenty-first: Krishnaji and I took the 5:55 p.m. TWA to London. We had our usual two forward seats in the nose of the plane. Krishnaji slept fairly well.’
The twenty-second: ‘We arrived at Heathrow at noon. One of Krishnaji’s two new bags was missing, but was eventually found. The waiting and crowds and uncertainty shocked his body. Dorothy, Doris, and Ingrid met us. We reached Brockwood before 3 p.m. Everyone was out to meet Krishnaji, including Dr. Parchure and Narayan. We had lunch upstairs in the kitchen, and walked in the grove at 5 p.m. Everything is in lovely full bloom. Brockwood is beautiful. I spoke to Mary Links.’
May twenty-third. ‘Krishnaji slept poorly and spent the day in bed. He had a massage by Dr. Parchure, which relaxed him. All unpacking was accomplished. I slept well in the afternoon.’
The twenty-fourth. ‘The Links, the Digbys, Jane Hammond, David Bohm, and Mary Cadogan all came to a trustee meeting at noon. It was decided to buy the Woodland cottage. The meeting continued after lunch. Krishnaji was concerned to hold the three Foundations together. He and I took Whisper for a walk.’
May twenty-fifth: ‘Krishnaji again slept poorly, so, again, he stayed in bed all day. I felt sleepy most of the day as well. I spoke to Fleur, and put all Krishnaji’s sweaters and shirts in order, read, and took a nap. The school is on half-term holiday, so I made supper upstairs. I spoke to Vanda.’
The next day. ‘It was a quiet day. Krishnaji got up for a fitting by a Winchester tailor, Mr. Thornton.’ He told Krishnaji that Mr. Lintott just died.’ Oh, Mr. Lintott was the nice man at Huntsman who always looked after Krishnaji, and he sort of ran things at Huntsman. Anyway, ‘Krishnaji lunched downstairs, and after naps, we walked. Krishnaji, Dorothy, the dogs, and I crossed the fields.’

May twenty-eighth. ‘Krishnaji spent the morning mostly sleeping. He got up for lunch. I went to a staff meeting at 4:45 p.m. We had planned to go to London that day, but Mary and Joe telephoned to tell us that the bridges across the Thames were closed because of the visit of the Pope.’
The twenty-ninth. ‘It was a warm and lovely day. Marie-Bertrande and Jean-Michel Maroger arrived with Diane for the weekend. Diane wants to be a Brockwood student next September. I talked all morning with them, and they came on the walk with Krishnaji, Dorothy, and me.

 May thirtieth: ‘Krishnaji spoke to the school. Peter Brook and his wife were there, and stayed to lunch. The Bohms came. I talked at length to Marie-Bertrande, and then Krishnaji spoke to her for over an hour. At 4 p.m., we took a short walk.
The thirty-first of May: ‘It was another warm day. Krishnaji walked with Jean-Michel while I went to a school meeting. At lunch, Krishnaji talked of what a school could do to bring about a religious person, to help one to see the false from the real. The Marogers left for France after supper.’
June first. ‘I went to Alresford on errands while Krishnaji spoke to the students alone. After lunch, I went to fetch two monks from Chithurst Buddhist monastery. One was Sumedho, who’d written asking to see Krishnaji. I brought them here to see Krishnaji at 4:30 p.m., and drove them back afterward.’
The second of June: ‘It is a hot day. I was packing for our stay in London, then I went to pay for our air tickets to Geneva. Krishnaji decided against going to Paris this summer. Erna telephoned that Rajagopal’s lawyer wants the five boxes back that Rajagopal sent to Krishnaji.’ They claimed—it isn’t written here—but, when Austin Bee brought the five boxes, and Krishnaji received them which I was to witness and all that, I think that was on a Friday or Saturday. By Monday, Rajagopal’s lawyer called to say that we had stolen them, and that we must return them immediately, because it was stolen property.
The third. ‘Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I went by train to London. Mary and Joe met us and took Krishnaji and me to the Savoy Hotel, where we left our two bags. Then Joe dropped us at Huntsman. It was sad there because of Mr. Lintott’s death. Krishnaji ordered a dark blue suit with a bit of white in it. We lunched with Mary at Fortnum. At 3:30 p.m., Krishnaji had his hair cut at Truefitt. It was a very hot day. We bought books at Hatchards and went back to the Savoy, where we had two suites for the price of two rooms. We had our supper in the rooms.’
June fourth. ‘Krishnaji slept well. He rested in the morning while I went to the Indian exhibit at the Hayward Gallery; partly organized by Pupul for Britain’s Festival of India. I came back to the Savoy and Joe came for Krishnaji and me. We went to join Mary at their flat, and then we walked to a nearby Italian restaurant for lunch. Joe took Krishnaji back to the Savoy while I got Krishnaji’s Swiss visa. It was a hot, very hot day. We rested and didn’t walk. Scott came by with Krishnaji’s pink pills.’ Hay fever is bothering him a bit. We had supper again in the rooms.’
The fifth. ‘It was another hot day. Joe drove Krishnaji and me to the Barbican Center where, at 10:45 a.m., Krishnaji gave his first London talk. The hall was full and overflowed into an adjacent cinema where a large screen showed the talk Krishnaji was giving. Joe brought us back to the Savoy, where at 1:30 p.m., he, Mary, and Mary’s granddaughter, Anna Pallandt, had a leisurely lunch with us. Mary and Anna had sold books at the Barbican. It was too hot to walk, so we rested and had supper in the rooms.’
The next day. ‘It is still very hot. Joe again drove us to the Barbican for Krishnaji’s second London talk there. A very fine one. Mary, Joe, and Nicky Pallandt, Mary’s grandson, lunched with Krishnaji and me at the Savoy; and then Joe drove us to Waterloo, where we returned by train to Petersfield. Dorothy met us. We had supper in the West Wing kitchen. It was good to be back.’
June seventh. ‘I received from Cohen’s office an affidavit about Krishnaji receiving the files May fourteenth from Rajagopal, and my telephone conversation with Rajagopal. I went to London by train and to the U.S. embassy to have my signature notarized, and posted the now-signed affidavit back to Oxnard. I did some shopping, then took the tube back to Waterloo and the train to Petersfield. On the way home, I picked up the Hoover, which was serviced in Alresford, and was back at Brockwood by 5 p.m. Krishnaji had walked with Dorothy, though it was another hot day. .

June twelfth. ‘The Bohms came for the night. Krishnaji took a small walk with Dorothy and me. In the evening, the Bohms came to watch on TV Bernard Levin interviewing Dr. Salk.’ I think that was because we were judging the Levin interview technique.
On the thirteenth. ‘Krishnaji spoke to the school at 11:45 a.m., after which the Bohms left. I spoke to Ginny Travers, who opened in a play called “A Personal Affair” in London last week. She says the reviews were not good.’
There is nothing much the next day.

On the seventeenth, ‘Krishnaji spoke with the students, and the next day talked to staff.’
June nineteenth. ‘Pupul arrived to stay until the twenty-fourth. And on the twentieth, ‘Krishnaji had a walk with Dr. Parchure at 7 a.m. instead of his normal exercises. He had breakfast with Pupul and me in the kitchen. Later, he talked to the whole school at noon. In the afternoon, there was a mime play in the old rose garden, to which we all went.’
The next day. ‘I spent most of the day doing desk work. At 5 p.m., Krishnaji and Pupul had a videotaped discussion with the school as the audience. Krishnaji spoke on reading the origin of things, and the path of diligence. And then Krishnaji said diligence remains part of action of the self and time, and going directly upon seeing was possible, possible for everyone.’

June twenty-fourth, ‘Pupul left for London. Krishnaji talked to Asit afterward about computer research on thinking and intelligence, and I taped it on a cassette. Erna telephoned. The judge in California is unable to decide between Rajagopal’s and my affidavit about the five boxes of archives that Rajagopal had sent to Krishnaji and then claimed that they were stolen, so he ruled that they should be returned pending the case. Erna is to discuss what to do with Cohen on Tuesday. She suggested I call Rajagopal. Krishnaji talked to Harsh and Claire and another couple about a school for Anand and other small children. Krishnaji came to the school meeting.’ Krishnaji was laughing in the train at The Spectator review of a book about Leadbeater.’
The twenty-sixth of June In the evening, I telephoned Rajagopal with Krishnaji beside me. I asked why he was claiming the files he sent should be returned. He said he never gave them, and that he couldn’t discuss it. He was “doing what I think is right”’—that’s Rajagopal. ‘Krishnaji had me say that he and Rajagopal could settle it. Rajagopal said to have Krishnaji write that in a letter. Krishnaji questioned me about whether it is worth going on with all this.’ Krishnaji got fed up with it.

The next day, ‘the school term ends today. I worked at my desk. In the afternoon, Erna telephoned about Rajagopal’s lawyer, Avsham, who rang our lawyer, Cohen, on Monday. He apologized for a rude letter, and said he was seeing Rajagopal Thursday and would advise him to settle the case. He will ring Cohen Friday. Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I deadheaded rhododendrons in the grove and walked back across the fields. There were few at dinner. Krishnaji has hay fever symptoms, or is it a possible cold?
July first. ‘Krishnaji spent the day in bed sleeping on and off. Dorothy and Montague left in the Land Rover for Saanen, and I packed all day while watching Wimbledon on television. Krishnaji is much better from resting indoors.’
The second of July. ‘We finished packing and had an early lunch at twelve. Ingrid drove us to Heathrow, where Rita Zampese met us and escorted Krishnaji and me onboard our Swiss Air flight, on which we left at 3:20 p.m. for Geneva. We arrived at the Hotel des Bergues just as Mar de Manziarly was also arriving there from Paris. She has come to lunch with Krishnaji tomorrow. It is hot in Geneva. Krishnaji and I dined in the Amphitryon Restaurant, and took a stroll across the river, and so back to bed.’
The third. ‘We went to Jacquet to order ties for Joe and Krishnaji, and to the Pharmacie Principal for two more towel bathrobes for Krishnaji. Krishnaji and I took a stroll, and at 7 p.m., had dinner, as at lunch time, in the Pavillon because the Amphitryon is closed today. We went early to bed for a good night’s sleep.’
July fourth. ‘I slept ten hours, and then had a lovely, lazy morning in bed. Krishnaji and I had lunch in the Amphitryon. I went to fetch a Ford Fiesta from Hertz, and then we drove slowly along the Route du Lac and up through Bulle to Gstaad, reaching Tannegg at 6:15 p.m. We haven’t got the downstairs apartment this year, so Parchure has to use the small one that Vanda usually takes for the few days she is here, and Vanda has taken a room nearby.’ We had the ground floor, and sometimes we had the lower floor, but not this year.
The next day. ‘I put things in order, and Krishnaji stayed in bed. In the afternoon, I went to the village on errands.
The sixth of July. ‘Vanda brought a letter to Krishnaji she had received from Rosalind and Rajagopal.’ I don’t go on about that, but he wouldn’t touch it, as if it was diseased.’ I had to tell him what was in it—when I tried to read it to him, he didn’t want to hear the words; he wanted to be told what was in it. He had a revulsion from everything about it. ‘I took Krishnaji to the barber for his haircut, and then we took a little drive to Gsteig.’(...)

This post was last updated by John Raica Fri, 21 Jun 2019.

The seventh of July, ‘I had left in Ojai a memorandum of my telephone conversation with Rajagopal, and based on this, Cohen’s office composed an affidavit, which I signed at the U.S. consulate in London and posted back. It arrived in time for a hearing in Ventura courts in which it was opposed by a statement of Rajagopal’s that he never gave the material but merely sent it for Krishnaji’s eyes as “production” of material called for by the court. The judge decided he could not decide between the two.’ He was a very fed-up judge, I think. ‘The judge was giving, this once, the benefit of the doubt to Rajagopal that he had sent the cartons as part of “producing” and, therefore, until a definitive court hearing and ruling, we should return them to Rajagopal. Cohen asked for thirty days to decide whether to appeal this to a higher court. Meanwhile, Rajagopal is to continue to “produce” further material for us to see at stated intervals. What he is supposed to “produce” is everything he claims is his property and we claim are Krishnaji’s archives. It is quite a list. Cohen told Erna that appealing to a higher court is usually as a result of a trial and a judgment, not a minor ruling like this one. He was to think it over and meet Erna a week ago. Erna asked me if I thought it would do any good to speak to Rajagopal. I was pessimistic, but said I would.’ We were still at Brockwood at this point. ‘I telephoned him in the evening, English time, on June twenty-sixth; as I have had to make sworn affidavits about my conversations with him  ‘Rajagopal, as usual, began by saying he must go to another phone, which means to us, that he is recording it. For once he was not the only one.’ ‘I said how surprised Krishnaji and I were that after he had made what seemed like a friendly gesture and sent over the cartons, and when he sent them, there was never any mention of our returning them to him—and his lawyer now talks about stolen property? I said one wondered if he hadn’t intended to do something right and friendly, and now his lawyer was trying to undo it.’ I was blaming the lawyer. ‘He said I could interpret it as I liked. I asked why he hadn’t mentioned sending it all back at the beginning. I went on to say that the thanks that Krishnaji had expressed via me twice on the telephone were obviously made for something sent to him to keep, and that I had asked him then if they were for Krishnaji, and he had said yes. I reminded him that Krishnaji had, in thanking him, said that if he would continue to send material there would be no need for a court action. Krishnaji was sitting beside me through all this, and wrote on a piece of paper for me to say that he and Rajagopal could settle the whole thing if all the archives material was turned over. Rajagopal said, “have him write that in a letter.” Rajagopal went on to say that he couldn’t do anything. I said his lawyers obviously had to follow his decisions, and it was sad if he could do nothing. He said that was my interpretation, and to tell Krishnaji that he had always done “what I think is the right thing.” He repeated this in a vociferous voice. I later telephoned Erna about this and she was not surprised. She is photocopying as much of the material as she can. She was still to see Cohen on the twenty-ninth to discuss where we are. Krishnaji wondered if all this was worth it, “for a lot of papers.” I reminded him that part of the agreement Rajagopal has broken has to do with republishing Krishnaji’s books incorrectly, as he tried to do with the first collected edition volume of the poems. “We mustn’t let him do that,” said Krishnaji.

Erna then telephoned us on the thirtieth about what was then a new development. On Monday, the twenty-eighth, Avsham, Rajagopal’s lawyer who had written the insulting letter to Cohen about the stolen property after which Cohen informed Rajagopal’s Ventura lawyer’—he had two lawyers, one in Los Angeles and one in Ventura—‘that he would henceforth deal only with him.’ I’m reading this badly because Avsham rang Cohen and apologized, and was very polite, and asked Cohen if he would discuss with him a basis for a settlement of the case. ‘He said he was seeing Rajagopal on Thursday, July the first, and though Rajagopal didn’t know it, he was going to recommend settlement. Avsham said he would telephone Cohen Friday. Erna is to telephone Krishnaji and me as soon as she hears what happened. That is where we are right now.’

‘In allied matters, Vanda yesterday gave Krishnaji a letter from Rosalind and Rajagopal, which was to be read by Krishnaji in front of Vanda and then destroyed. Krishnaji refused to touch it. He had me open and tell him what it was. It was a six-page handwritten account entitled “A Sad, Sad Story” of Rosalind’s life in relation to Krishnaji, Nitya, and Rajagopal. The point of it—if there was one—was the justification of anything Rajagopal may be “driven in his desperation to do in court.”’ Those are her words. ‘It was defamatory of Krishnaji and utterly self-serving. The clear implication is of her aiding Rajagopal. Krishnaji felt a revulsion at listening to any part of it.’

‘We drove to Gsteig in the rain and spoke of it. Rosalind had called Krishnaji a "congenital liar". And he asked, “Do you consider me that?” He said, “I have lied when they attacked me, brutalized me. I’m not a violent man, and they were. I tried to avoid that.” He appeared shocked by the letter, but more concerned that I might be upset by it. I said I wasn’t. But one thing was firm:That when all this is over, the case or whatever happens, I will never have anything to do with either of those two people. Krishnaji said he felt the same. But I pointed out that he was forgiving, capable of forgetting. My feelings would not alter. This morning, he again asked if the letter had upset me. I didn’t tell him that it sickened me, for him, that he should have fallen into the hands of such people. But that is an old feeling of mine, an old question. He said that he had awakened thinking of the meaning of humility, to examine what one is or has done without a 'center.’
‘The Siddoo sisters came at 4 p.m. to see Krishnaji and recount what happened with Reeta Sanatani and the events that led up to the decision not to have a school at Wolf Lake.’
The eighth of July. ‘We have heard nothing yet from Erna. The weather is beautiful. The mountains sleep in their shawls of snow with a summer languor that fills me as well. Krishnaji does breathing exercises with Dr. Parchure in the early mornings, and has a massage before lunch. Dr. Parchure has given both Krishnaji and me some good exercises to strengthen the back muscles, good especially for perennial lower back aches. Krishnaji gave a half hour interview at 4 p.m. to Al Blackburn, who left the text of a book he has written. Krishnaji will not read it and neither, I think, I will . Blackburn is here with his wife, Gaby, but she didn’t come. At 4:30 p.m., Krishnaji also gave a few minutes to a Brockwood student, Jean-Marie Baud. It was too hot to walk up the hill, so Krishnaji and I did twenty laps in the shade on the driveway.’

July ninth, ‘It is another hot day. Krishnaji dictated letters. I went to the village in the afternoon and met Krishnaji at the station. He had walked down with Dr. Parchure. The heat had affected him. Erna finally telephoned in the evening. Cohen has written her a letter so that she can send it on to us. His conversation with Avsham has been cool and unproductive. No answers on what happens to the archives material after Rajagopal’s death. Avsham said he believes a settlement is possible if an apology is made. Erna asked what I thought. I said that if a proper settlement is arrived at, it should be possible to make some sort of statement of regret that litigation had been necessary, but what is meant by an apology? I suspect Rajagopal wants some sort of groveling admission that he was right all along. A lot of lies. The “production of documents” and miscellaneous that took place at Rajagopal’s Ventura lawyer’s office was meaningless; it was only a carton of miscellaneous, meaningless letters to Krishnaji and to Rajagopal, i.e., nothing from our list of documents. When Rajagopal was asked for the date of his next operation—his excuse for stalling—there was no response. Cohen is considering taking Mrs. Vigeveno’s deposition. Erna feels we should continue to demand further production of documents. The present pressure on Rajagopal is positive and she says that he will, at all costs, avoid going personally to court.’ Erna felt that he couldn’t stand up in court and behave in this ridiculous way; and that he would, if forced to go to court, cave in. I sort of agreed with her. ‘The return of the five cartons is due on the twenty-first. We have until then to decide. I reported all this to Krishnaji, who listened normally, and we didn’t discuss it further.’

July tenth. ‘Krishnaji slept poorly. He said that the walk in the heat affected him, and he must not go out in the sun anymore. This morning, Krishnaji asked me what actually are we fighting Rajagopal for. I replied, the access to the archives and the prevention of their being given away, and the protection against Rajagopal’s publishing anything hitherto unpublished, and the republication of anything already published only in its original form. Krishnaji asked, “Are we to go on fighting for years?” He says Rajagopal will never give in. “Are we to spend all this energy, time, and money on this? It keeps us in constant contract with these dirty people. They are dirty. That’s why I didn’t want to read or touch that letter from Rosalind. I never want to see or speak to those people ever. They are evil, dirty.” I asked if we then let them do what they want. Krishnaji replied, “No. Rajagopal won’t publish anything. He’s too far gone.” I said we had no protection if he did, unless it is in an agreement. That, to me, the first responsibility is to protect the teachings, their record. Krishnaji asked, “Is it worth all this? Think of it afresh.”
 ‘Late in midmorning, Krishnaji came in to talk to me and to make me see, and therefore feel, as he does, that our going on further in this is to touch dirt. He is revolted by them and wants to have nothing further or ever to do with them. What are we fighting for? Are we to go on and on until Rajagopal dies with this? He said, “I am disgusted. Like that tennis court yesterday.” The Gstaad tennis tournament is on in the village, and was crowded with “meat-eating, vulgar people.”’ ‘“I would do anything to get away from them”’—the two Rajagopals. ‘“I cannot be with having anything to do with them, and we are connected through this case. We were right in the beginning. I felt responsible to those who had given money, and it was right that we get the land and all that. But now it goes on and on. Don’t you want to be free of it?” I said I had one motive from the very beginning: to protect him and his teachings. To see that what he wants is done, that it occurs. He said that wasn’t enough. “You are part of me. You must see and feel this in the same way. You must feel it is right.” He was making it clear that he wants to end the dispute, and that in itself counts totally for me, but I said I hope that he was also looking at the implications of the next actions. What if Rajagopal publishes without permission? Krishnaji said he couldn’t do that under the old agreement. I reminded him of Cohen’s statement that began the present litigation: that unless we defend our rights under an agreement, they go by default. I said it was far less important, perhaps, but would apply also for the events required in the agreement at Rajagopal’s death. Krishnaji assumes they were all binding, which they may not be. Cohen must be asked what protection those rights have. Krishnaji agreed to ask Cohen and also have him settle the case on the best terms, and wants to protect the latter rights. I suggested Rajagopal might demand a whitewash. “He won’t do that,” said Krishnaji. I pointed out that he already had, in the note that Austin Bee handed Krishnaji before the last Ojai talk, and in a message this week via Cohen that Rajagopal wanted an apology. At one point, Krishnaji said, “I would grovel to end this.” I said I could not. It would be a falsehood, and he agreed that he would not say something false. I said something of which I wrote earlier this morning—my revulsion at evil getting its ends; that one day, Krishnaji would forget what had happened and obscure what those people are. He said he wanted never to have anything to do with either of them again.’
‘Later in the afternoon, I telephoned Erna. It was early morning in Ojai. I tried to put in words Krishnaji’s feelings and wish to settle the case quickly. Erna sounded disturbed. She warned that if we dropped the case, Rajagopal can countersue for false accusations and for his expenses. I did find out that Cohen says our rights over publications and eventual succession to the K and R Foundation remain in effect under the old agreement. Krishnaji is intent on saying that it was not the effect of the ugly Rosalind and Rajagopal letters that impels him now, but simply wanting to be free of any contact, or “anything to do with them.” Erna pointed out that Rajagopal will find new ways of harassment. She is to see Cohen at 9 a.m. on Monday, and will explore the possibilities of a settlement. Afterward, Krishnaji felt I had not put it vividly. He sat beside me as I talked, and finally was willing to speak directly to her.’

July eleventh. ‘Krishnaji again asked me if I’d been upset by Rosalind’s letter. He said he felt I was, and that I had not put things clearly enough to Erna. I told him nothing about the letter surprised me, but it was uglier than he realized. The hate, both large and petty, filled it. He said, “That is why I didn’t want to touch it.”…“I wish I had never met those two people.” I said again that all I care about is what is my responsibility, as it is Erna’s, too, to protect and care for him; and that one has to look at what can happen as a result of decisions made now. He seemed worried that it was all a shock to me. But nothing shocks me about those wretched people. I said that, for the moment, the only important thing was that he was speaking this morning, and so it was. I had gone up the mountain and walked to the end of the wood before the sun touched it. It was cool and beautiful. The earth smelled of grasses and flowers, and the brook was still rushing down in the woods. I came back feeling full of cleanness and the morning mountain.’

‘We arrived a little early at the tent, which was full, for the first Saanen talk of the year, which was to start at 10:30 a.m. It was very hot in the tent. Old faces. New faces. Krishnaji spoke strongly. Something new. “Living without a cause.” Toward the end, a tall, drugged-looking young man came into the tent, climbed over people until, grimacing, he reached the edge of the platform. Various people came quietly to prevent his climbing up, but Krishnaji said, “Don’t touch him.” The man echoed those words in a loud voice, and began an incoherent speech in German. A few in the audience yelled, “Be quiet!” but Krishnaji sat quietly. Then he said, “Shall we end the meeting?” But when the man ran out of words, he wandered out, and Krishnaji picked up exactly where he left off and spoke another eight to ten minutes. The heat in the tent had been considerable. Both Krishnaji and I slept all afternoon. A bottomless sleep for me. Krishnaji walked in the shadow of the chalet, and went without supper. At 7:30 p.m., I took Dr. Parchure to the tent to see the first video of “The Nature of the Mind,” the Krishnaji-Bohm-Sheldrake-Hidley series. It looked good.’
There’s little the next day. And on the thirteenth, ‘I had another early walk. I took Dr. Parchure to the tent, then came back for Krishnaji, who gave the second Saanen talk. He slept afterward, but came to the lunch table with Vanda and me. At 3 p.m., Mary Cadogan and Dorothy came to discuss various things. Krishnaji joined us later, and looked at the biography of Leadbeater, The Elder Brother, which we had.’

July fifteenth. ‘I took an early walk again, and it was another hot day. Krishnaji gave his third Saanen talk; a very deep one. Lunch was with Krishnaji, Vanda, Pupul, Radhika, and her children, and David and Nikki Mustart. I took Parchure back to Saanen and went looking for a place to buy towels for Pupul. Vanda and I signed the lease for Tannegg for next year. Krishnaji in the talk said, “Movement from cause to effect is time and thought
July sixteenth. ‘Eleven international Krishnaji committees met here with Krishnaji in the morning. Then all but he, Vanda, and Pupul went down to Chalet Firo for lunch, and a further meeting all afternoon. A letter from Erna came about the meeting with Cohen. I had supper with Jean-Michel, Marie-Bertrande, and Diane Maroger at the Hotel Saanerhof. A rain came and it cooled the air.’ The next day. ‘Krishnaji gave the fourth Saanen talk. At lunch with Krishnaji were Vanda, Topazia, Carini, and me. Pupul and Radhika came to tea. Asit and his family arrived at the Palace Hotel.’
July nineteenth. ‘Vanda left for Florence. Krishnaji and I lunched with Pupul, Radhika, and her children. Then he and I went for a short drive to Saanenmöser and arrived back in Gstaad for a 4 o’clock appointment with Dr. Steiger, who did a blood sugar test. I telephoned Filomena in Rome.’
July twentieth. ‘Krishnaji’s fifth Saanen talk. Dr. Lichti came after the talk to Tannegg and discussed Krishnaji’s blood sugar with Dr. Parchure and me. She suggested herbal teas to lower it and diet. She lunched here and said she will come to Brockwood for the gathering. Asit and Pupul came to tea after which Asit walked with Krishnaji. I dined with Suzanne and Hugues van der Straten.’
July twenty-first. ‘Jean-Michel Maroger came to lunch with Krishnaji and me. We discussed where Krishnaji might go in September for a holiday in the Dordogne.
The next day, ‘Krishnaji gave the sixth talk in Saanen. Afterwards, we had a quiet lunch with just Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and me. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji saw Mr. Mirabet and at 4:30 p.m., Marie-Bertrande had an interview with Krishnaji.’
July twenty-third. ‘There was the second meeting of the foreign committees here at Tannegg. Krishnaji spoke most eloquently to them.

The twenty-fourth of July. ‘I fetched Pupul at 10 a.m. to talk about her book to Krishnaji. She stayed to lunch. Asit came in to say goodbye before driving to Lugano with his family. At 4 p.m., I fetched the Fouérés. They came every year and lived down in the village. He was always writing pompous things about Krishnaji and the teachings.
S: Oh yes, now I remember. [Both laugh.] That describes him. Anyway, they ‘came to see Krishnaji briefly, and at 4:30 p.m., an elderly Spanish couple brought a donation. I worked on preparing questions for tomorrow’s question-and-answer meeting.’
Sunday, the twenty-fifth. ‘I have been walking early every morning, but today’s walk was in the rain. Krishnaji held this year’s first question-and-answer session in the tent. I gave him five written questions, of which he answered only two, but marvelously.’ I have that underlined. ‘He and I lunched alone.
The next day was the second question-and-answer meeting, then on July twenty-seventh, ‘Krishnaji held his third question-and-answer meeting for the year, and the last event for this summer in Saanen. Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and I lunched alone. Krishnaji gave an interview to a former Rajneesh follower, Mrs. Morris. I fetched Pupul, Radhika, and children to tea. They leave tomorrow. I spoke to Filomena. Dorothy came by.’
July twenty-eighth. ‘Pupul, Radhika, and children came to say goodbye.
July twenty-ninth. ‘I had a long talk with Dr. Parchure about Krishnaji’s health. It worries both of us. I fetched Dorothy and Montague to lunch, and I suggested to them that we cancel the Brockwood seminar this year. They agreed and so did Krishnaji. For his sake, we need to space Krishnaji’s activities better. They leave for Brockwood tomorrow.
There is nothing of significance for the next two days, but on August first, ‘Krishnaji began a new series of Letters to the Schools in the morning. I typed it by lunchtime. We both read all afternoon. Asit rang from New York. He is arriving in Geneva tomorrow en route to Singapore, and may drive here to lunch. Lou and Evelyne Blau telephoned from California. Lou is not very clear about my donating the McAndrew Road property to the Foundation. I said we will go into it on my return.’
The next day. ‘Krishnaji dictated another Letters to the Schools. Asit rang from Geneva. His flight was late, so he’s not coming here. Jackie Siddoo came with mangoes and to say goodbye to Krishnaji. Krishnaji and I walked to the river.’

August third. ‘For the first time in weeks, I didn’t go for an early walk. Krishnaji dictated another Letters to the Schools.Frances came to lunch with Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and me. Bruno Ortolani came at 4 p.m. to tell me about a book he has put together reporting Krishnaji’s talks. Krishnaji saw him afterward and declined to write a brief foreword.
The fourth of August. ‘Krishnaji dictated another Letters to the Schools. Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and I gave Fosca a Tissot wristwatch” She cooked beautifully, but she took pride in her skill as a laundress, and she ironed to perfection. She liked to iron Krishnaji’s shirts and they were beautiful. ‘Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and I lunched at the Hotel Bel Air. Not bad.’ ‘After naps, Krishnaji and I walked to the river. He said he had felt something threatening in the wood when he walked there alone, but didn’t feel it with me there.’
And he also said how he wouldn’t go out at night alone. .

On the next three days, Krishnaji dictated three more Letters to the Schools. Also on August seventh, ‘at lunch, Krishnaji began to speak of places where adults could come and study the teachings—maybe one at Rajghat and one at Ojai. There was an implication that I should bring about the Ojai one. At 4:30, he had his hair cut and then we walked to the river.’
The eighth of August. ‘Krishnaji dictated the eighth Letters to the Schools, and I typed it before lunch. Krishnaji and I walked to the river and up a bit, talking more of what he was calling “an ashram” in Ojai. I spoke to Dorothy at Brockwood by telephone. She and Montague reached there yesterday.’
August ninth. ‘It was foggy in the early morning, so I didn’t have an early walk. Krishnaji dictated the ninthLetters to the Schools. I marketed. Nadia Kossiakof came to tea. Krishnaji and I walked to the river. I telephoned the Marogers about the dates of a stay in France.’
The tenth of August. ‘Krishnaji and I went at 8:15 a.m. to Dr. Steiger, where Krishnaji had a fasting blood sugar test. It was 100. We came back to breakfast, and then Krishnaji dictated the tenth Letters to the Schools. At 4 p.m., we went back for a post-prandial blood sugar count, which was 140. In consulting with the doctor, we decided that, though readings were within the normal range, Krishnaji will stay on a low-sugar diet. We walked to the river. Vanda telephoned. She will arrive late in two days’ time.’

August twelfth. It was a hot day. Krishnaji and I walked in the woods, and he talked more of a study center. Coming back, we met Vanda, who has arrived from Florence with a young Canadian, Susan Howard.’
August fifteenth, ‘We said goodbye to Vanda and Fosca, and Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and I drove via the Col du Pillon to Aigle, the autoroute, then getting off at Morges, went along the Route du Lac to the Geneva airport. Krishnaji and I took Swiss Air at 13:55 p.m. to Heathrow. Dorothy brought us back to Brockwood. Brockwood is beautiful. Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I walked with the dogs in the grove.
The sixteenth. ‘I spent much of the day unpacking, and settling us back into Brockwood. Jean-Michel telephoned about a likely place for Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I to stay near Blois. We will go there on September twentieth. We had a good walk in the afternoon around the fields. We both slept well, and I feel very well here.’
The next few days are quiet—the Bohms come to lunch, on one of our walks we inspected the flourishing vegetable garden and on another, the marquee that was put up for the upcoming Brockwood talks. I’m also, as usual, doing errands and Krishnaji is resting.
The twentieth of August. ‘Another day of rest for Krishnaji, but a day of desk work for me. Krishnaji is readingThe Elder Brother, the biography of Leadbeater, and is appalled at what went on.’ ‘Anneke, Frances arrived in the afternoon.’
Again, it is quiet for several days, but on the twenty-fourth, ‘Krishnaji and I took the 9:46 a.m. train to London. Joe met us and drove us to the eye doctor, Mr. P.D. Trevor Roper, where Krishnaji had a glaucoma and field of vision test. There is no glaucoma, but there is the beginning of cataracts. Joe had fetched Mary, and then they came for us and Mary lunched with Krishnaji and me at Fortnum’s. We talked about the Leadbeater book. After lunch, Krishnaji and I went to Hatchards, then we caught a taxi and got to Waterloo and back to Brockwood by 6:30 p.m.’
The next day, I seem to mostly be getting the guest rooms ready, then, on the twenty-seventh, ‘I went to meet the Herzbergers at the Petersfield bus stop. Hans is here for a day before going to Canada. Radhika, and their two daughters, Sunanda and Maya, are to stay here till September ninth. They are all four in the West Wing dining room. People are arriving for the talks, including Dr. Lichti, who came in the evening and is in the West Wing guest room.’
August twenty-eighth. ‘It was a clear, lovely day. Krishnaji gave his first Brockwood talk at 11:30 a.m. in the tent. It was a very fine one. We had fruit and salad in our kitchen, and then finished lunch in the food tent. ‘After a nap. Krishnaji, Dorothy and I walked.’
August twenty-ninth. ‘Krishnaji slept well, nine hours. He gave his second Brockwood talk. Mary and Joe were there and came up afterward for food and salad in the West Wing kitchen. Then we all went to the tent to eat the next course.

 The next day. ‘I typed questions for Krishnaji’s question-and-answer meeting tomorrow. There were heavy showers, but Krishnaji, Dr. Lichti, Dorothy, and I walked anyway, pausing under trees when it was at its worst.
August thirty-first. ‘Krishnaji held the first question-and-answer session, and answered four questions. As usual, we had fruit and salad upstairs, and then went back to the tent for the hot food. We walked in the afternoon with Dorothy.’
September second, ‘Krishnaji held the second question-and-answer meeting, answering six of the questions handed to him. As usual, we had fruit and salad upstairs, then returned to the tent for the hot food. After lunch, Krishnaji told David Bohm about the study center plan, and I telephoned Erna in Ojai about it. She thinks we could start it at Arya Vihara.
Krishnaji rested on the third, but on the fourth, ‘Krishnaji gave the third Brockwood talk; a deeply moving one.
The fifth of September. ‘The weather stayed good. Krishnaji gave his fourth talk. He spoke in deep, quiet, remote, and immensely moving  way. It again gave me the feeling of “listening to the voice of God.” When I told him that afterward in our kitchen where we have fruit and salad before returning to the tent, in answering why I was half in tears, he patted my shoulder and dismissed it.’ ‘Krishnaji gave interviews to an Italian psychiatrist, Dr. Manfredini. Dr. Parchure thought it was fatigue and gave him Ayurvedic pills against throat symptoms. Dr. Lichti had been our guest in the West Wing and she and Parchure conferred medically and at length.’
The next day. ‘People are leaving. Krishnaji is tired, slightly hoarse, but was up for lunch and talked briefly to an Egyptian couple. He didn’t go for a walk. I cleaned the spare room so Radhika could move in there until she and the children leave on Thursday.
The seventh. ‘Krishnaji is a bit hoarse, but wanted to go to London anyway. Mary and Joe met us and took us to Huntsman, where Krishnaji had a fitting on the new suit and ordered a pair of beige corduroy trousers. Joe gave Krishnaji a copy of his book on Canaletto.’ He was a big expert on Canaletto. ‘We caught the 3:50 p.m. train, changed at Haslemere, and were back at Brockwood by 5:30 p.m. Krishnaji was none the worse from the trip.’

The tenth of September. Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I were flying to France for a holiday. Krishnaji, in the crowded waiting room, stood apart as much as he could, looking elegant, superb, everything rare and aristocratic. He sat between Dorothy and me, and we ate careful sandwiches from Brockwood. Then, Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I flew on British Air to Paris, arriving at 2:30 p.m. Jean-Michel met us at Charles de Gaulle in his Citroën and drove us to where we were staying near Blois and not far from his home, La Mahaudière. He kindly found and negotiated this place for us after discovering that the Dordogne, our original objective, was booked in all the suggested places.’ He chose this place for us. ‘The proprietor here, a Monsieur Chevigné, normally gives only breakfast with the rooms, but agreed to give us all meals. Tina, who formerly worked for the Marogers, and is used to vegetarians, has come to cook until the fifteenth. Krishnaji and I have rooms on the ground floor done in le style Ancien, and we share a rather dank bathroom. Dorothy is above us in a redone room with a better bath. After initial squeamishness, we decided to keep these rooms. The Marogers have gone to endless effort to arrange everything. Marie-Bertrande and Daphne came over while we were having supper. Marie-Bertrande looks under pressure from the wedding of Ariane, a week from today. Daphne is working in a hospital in Blois and looks blooming. Jean-Michel has kindly lent us his Citroën while we are here. The château looks not unlike a French version of Brockwood. A cedar stands on the lawn. But the parkland is straw-colored from a drought.’

September eleventh ‘We slept well, and Krishnaji rested in bed until lunchtime. It is totally quiet, and the prospect that nothing has to be done is blissful. I hold to the hope that Krishnaji will like it, though it is not the Dordogne, his choice; and that this will give him a deep store of rest from this summer’s talks and before the rigors of India.’ Marie-Bertrande and Jean-Michel came over and we walked in the Forêt de Russy, which adjoins this property. It was hot and dry as there has been a long drought this summer. Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I dined in the dining room. And so to bed after watching news on television.’
The twelfth of September. ‘We have struck a dry year here, which has meant, so far, that the forest seems unalive. There is no blossoming smells of leaves, of forest earth, no moving from the coolness of shade to a mellow sun. It is all one day—hot and motionless. It was too hot in the sun for Krishnaji to reach the woods, and the shade was only a small improvement. Krishnaji walked ahead and took up a branch to clear spider webs, which were everywhere, but the walking was rather a chore instead of a pleasure. The Marogers are proud of the weather, “so warm and clear” and “good weather for guests and also for Ariane’s wedding next weekend.” Our more northern blood remembers the cool, damp aliveness of Brockwood walking. I seem to have lost all tolerance for heat. It exhausts me and makes me very uncomfortable. But Krishnaji is sleeping well here, and relaxes in a way he finds difficult at Brockwood. This place is almost very nice—our shared bathroom is rather dank and needs redoing, but the rooms are comfortable, and, so far, Tina has cooked excellent meals. The proprietors, Monsieur Chevignè and Madame Duflot, have taken on quite a task of running a large place without help. It must be a struggle, but so far, all is well for us. I can clean and launder, and get Krishnaji’s breakfast tray, etcetera—i.e., function, which is my first concern. He said this morning, “What would I do without you? I couldn’t,” which made a warm glow in the middle of my chest. Dorothy must be getting some much-needed rest. Krishnaji had slept well, and Dorothy and I had a leisurely breakfast in the dining room. There is one other table for guests, a young couple who murmur to each other so low that one cannot tell if it is in German or English. We didn’t see the Marogers today as they are in wedding preparation, and it was too warm for more than a walk twice around the drive.’
September thirteenth. ‘We had a quiet, lazy morning. Krishnaji spoke briefly to the paraplegic daughter of Madame Duflot, Valerie Lammouy. Jean-Michel came by in their Opel and I asked him to exchange it for their fine and more complicated Citroën. We drove it to a part of the Forêt de Russy for a walk in a shady allée. It is still very hot, but it cools at night and we sleep well.’
The next day. ‘Krishnaji slept well. Me too. It is another warm day. After lunch, Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I in the Marogers’ Opel went to Blois for Dorothy’s train ticket to Paris and Krishnaji’s and my air reservations to London on October first. Dorothy telephoned Brockwood to see if all was well. I cashed travel checks. We did small errands in the heat, then came back, hot and tired. We didn’t walk. Early to bed.’
The fifteenth. ‘Krishnaji slept very well. Dorothy says she slept ten hours. I sleep and wake and sleep. I seem to have long hours of sleep, but I am not totally relaxed because there is a lurking “on guard” feeling, a sense of responsibility for the way things work out. In the late afternoon, Jean-Michel came and drove us to their home, La Mahaudière, where, with Marie-Bertrande, Daphne, Diane, and Saturday’s bride, Ariane, we had sorbet made from homegrown strawberries, and then went for a walk in the shade of their woods. Dorothy and I saw Ariane’s wedding dress, which is very pretty. Krishnaji had sat on the floor with his sorbet, quietly observing, aware of the characters of the family. Jean-Michel drove us back and we found Patrice Ferrand, Suzanne van der Straten’s nephew and a former Brockwood Park student, with his young wife. They had just arrived to spend the night.’

September sixteenth. ‘Krishnaji had indigestion in the night. Also, he had cramps in his feet around 6 a.m., got up, fainted, and somehow hit his left forehead, left shoulder and hip. There is a bump the size of a nickel an inch above his left eyebrow. At first he said he was quite alright and we should go ahead with the plan we had to take Dorothy to see châteaux, and that I mustn’t tell her what had happened. I gave him arnica, but he eventually canceled our plans, and is staying in bed. He later admitted it was a good idea to rest. He is all right now, but what worries me is his fainting when all alone. Why? And the fact that he didn’t call me. “Of course not,” he said—his inevitable comment, which makes me uneasy. I was only about three yards away, but the door was closed and he made no sound. Now the door stays open and I must figure out a way at Brockwood to not be cut off. Anyway, he stayed in bed, reading, and it was just as well that we were not on the road to châteaux anyway, as it was very hot. I drove in to Blois to get him the Herald Tribune, Time, and Newsweek, and to locate the train station so I could get Dorothy there on Sunday morning. When I got back, she and I went over to the farmhouse to talk to Madame Duflot’s paraplegic daughter, Valerie Lammouy. She has read Krishnaji books and would like to come to visit Brockwood. Krishnaji is better and looks all right.’ I felt very relaxed and in France. There was the ease, too, of shepherding Krishnaji and Dorothy on a pleasant outing. We went up to Amboise and looked at the outside of the château. We had read the guidebook of the who and when of life in these houses, and we drove on to Chenonceau—which is the loveliest one. In spite of the warmth of the day and a fair number of tourists, Krishnaji not only wanted to walk to the Château but to go inside the ground floor. When we were here years ago, he had no interest in going in.’ Oh, that’s right. We had been there before. ‘But whether to give Dorothy a look at it or because of all the reading out loud we have done getting here, he said, “Let’s look,” and we did. There were too many people to stay very long, so we drove back via Montrichard, Pontlevoy, etcetera and got back by 5 p.m, tired but relaxed. We were all glad we went, and Krishnaji is none the worse for it.’
September eighteen. ‘It was a quiet day for us. The marriage of Ariane Maroger was today, but we didn’t go. We had a quiet day of rest, and in late afternoon, walked in a shady allèe in the woods beside the house.’
The next day. ‘I took Dorothy to the Blois train station, and persuaded a porter to carry her suitcase to the second quay. I stayed with her until her 12:45 p.m. train came, and she went off to Paris, where Gisela Elmenhorst was to meet her and get her to Roissy and her flight to Heathrow. I think these nine days of holiday and rest have done her good. Krishnaji wants her to trade in her Cortina and, with another car she got from her brother, and with our adding something, have Dorothy get a good new car. We said we would have further discussion of this when we get back to Brockwood. In the afternoon clouds formed. Thunder growled. There was lightning and then rain came at last. A heavy showering. After a while, it eased and we went for a walk around the large lawn and driveway. The air is clear and alive again.’

September twenty-first. ‘We made the decision to advance our departure from October first to next Monday, the twenty-seventh. So, I went to Blois to change the tickets to the twenty-seventh. I telephoned Brockwood with a message about the change for Dorothy, and then rang the Marogers about the same. It also simplifies things as we can all go to Paris together on Monday. The Marogers will go from Paris to the ferry for England, as they are taking Diane to Brockwood to become a student, and we will go to the airport. I bought books in French for Krishnaji as he has decided he wants to do some reading in French, and some running shoes for him, which he likes, size thirty-nine.’ ‘I made it back for lunch, and we rested all the afternoon and walked in a light rain in the Forêt de Russy.’ That was the one next door. ‘The forest is awakening in the rain. We had a light supper and went to bed early.’
September the twenty-second. ‘I gave Krishnaji a flu vaccine.’ I never liked stabbing people who are close. I used to do the blood bank and I had to test people’s hemoglobin, which meant sticking a thing into their finger. I did it all day long, but when a friend came by, I got squeamish. We had a quiet day and walked a long way down the dirt road in the forest. There was an odd atmosphere there, which both of us felt. The trees seem aloof, unfriendly. It is silent, without birds or the sounds of moving leaves. We are intruders. Krishnaji said, “I would be nervous to walk here alone.” But the forest affected both of us differently from other landscapes. It is beautiful, but the mood can darken and something of a menace is somewhere there.’
The twenty-third. ‘The weather is cooler. We drove to La Mahaudière and lunched with the Marogers, Mr. and Mrs. Salzman, Marie-Bertrande’s stepmother, Madame Embericos, and Diane.’ ‘We saw the videotape of Ariane’s wedding, done by Mr. Salzman. Krishnaji’s view that weddings are a lot of fuss over nothing was kept low-key.’ . We left at 4 p.m., both tired from lack of a rest after lunch, and as neither of us wanted to go into the dark woods, we walked around the front of the château. Both are glad to be returning to Brockwood.’
September twenty-fourth. ‘ It’s a rather cold day. ‘We walked on the forest road. Krishnaji said, “We mustn’t be afraid of it,” and Krishnaji addressed the trees, saying, “We are friendly people. We mean you no harm. You mustn’t mind our coming.” The trees have an odd air of watching, like the cows and sheep at Brockwood, who stare at us intently.

September twenty-fifth. ‘Krishnaji says he now thinks he knows how he fell a week ago, that the rug slipped. But, when I asked him at the time if it were the rug, he had said no. At lunch, he reported that he had had threatening dreams every night here. “What kind?” I asked. He said that in the dreams, he has to speak and is late; he is walking and there is a body of water suddenly that gets wider. He wonders what it is. Are the two Rajagopals threatening him? “Those two would be the only ones,” he said. He says he can close it off and not allow the dreams, but doesn’t want to close it off. We spoke of the case and that it is probably a ploy by Rajagopal to speak now, via his lawyers, of a settlement in order to drag things out some more. Mrs. Vigeveno’s deposition has been put off because of this, which has enabled him once more to avoid our motions. Krishnaji said, “Rajagopal is playing a dirty game”…“He thinks I’ve done something to him. What have I done to him? I’ve done nothing.” At lunch, I said that Rajagopal responds only to being pushed. Krishnaji said, “We must push him.” I asked what should guide us this winter when he is in India and communication is difficult, and Krishnaji replied, “Whatever you think should be done.” We read most of the day and walked to the road and back.’

September twenty-seven. ‘We were packed and ready when the Marogers arrived at 11:30 a.m. Then they took us to Charles de Gaulle Airport, where Krishnaji and I took the Air France 3:30 p.m. flight to London. Dorothy met us in a car she has acquired from her brother and we came back to beautiful Brockwood a little after 6 p.m. It is good to be back.’
The next day, ‘The Marogers arrive with Diane. Marie-Bertrande and Jean-Michel are in the West Wing, and Diane is in the student room she will have. I did much laundry and house things. It was a windy day. Krishnaji, Dorothy, Jean-Michel, and I went for a walk around the fields.’
October first. ‘The school term began. Krishnaji dictated letters. I went to Alresford with Marie-Bertrande on errands. After a nap, Krishnaji, Marie-Bertrande, Dorothy, and I walked with the dogs.’
The second of October: ‘It rained. I typed the first of Krishnaji’s new series of Letters to the Schools, which is to go out twice a month to all of Krishnaji’s schools on the first and fifteenth of every month. I attended the 3 p.m. staff meeting. Krishnaji and I walked in the rain.
October third. ‘Krishnaji spoke to the school the first time this school year. It was a lovely, still afternoon with no wind but some sun. We walked.’
There is nothing of significance the next day, but on the fifth of October, ‘Krishnaji spoke to the students again. David Shainberg arrived. In the afternoon, Krishnaji, David, Dorothy, Marie-Bertrande, Jean-Michel, and I walked, then looked at a Volvo car demonstrated to Dorothy.’ Krishnaji wanted to help Dorothy get a new car. ‘After supper, at the table, I discussed with Shainberg, Merali, and others the idea for a Krishnamurti study center.’

The sixth of October. ‘Krishnaji and I went to London. Joe and Mary met us. Krishnaji and I went to Hatchards for detective novels and I got Fleur Cowles’s new book. We walked to Burberry, where Krishnaji got a windbreaker. I looked at raincoats but decided on the one from Joe’s store.’ ‘Joe and Mary met us there and drove us to Waterloo. Krishnaji suggested a three-to-five-minute deliberate quieting of my body each morning, to perhaps quiet my fidgety hands.’
The seventh of October: ‘I went with Marie-Bertrande and Daphne to Winchester on shopping errands, where I found an antique dressing table mirror as a present for the Marogers to thank them for all they did to make our France vacation so pleasant. They all left for France in the afternoon. Diane now is on her own as a student here. Sarjit Siddoo and her husband were here for a brief visit. Krishnaji, Dorothy, Shainberg, and I walked around the fields.’
October eighth. ‘At noon, Krishnaji spoke to the staff. If one goes all the way in seeing one branch of conditioning, then one can see and be free of all the others.’ ‘At 4 p.m., a Saab car was demonstrated to Dorothy and everybody. Dorothy likes it. David Shainberg is doing the bargaining with the car salesman for Dorothy.’ ‘At 5:15 p.m., I went to a staff meeting.’
The next day, ‘Krishnaji slept well but decided to spend the day in bed. David Shainberg finally succeeded in making a deal for the Saab for Dorothy. In the afternoon, the Bohms and Maurice Wilkins arrived to stay till tomorrow. The Bohms are in the West Wing.’
The tenth of October. ‘Krishnaji spoke to the school at noon, after which the Bohms and Wilkins left. . Krishnaji talked to a man from Oxford and later to Shainberg. We had a short walk. I discussed video matters with Merali, Shainberg, Scott, and Dorothy.’
October eleventh: ‘Before he and Merali left, Shainberg gave Krishnaji a gamma globulin injection, two vials, to last six months.’ Shainberg was a doctor, after all. You have to be a doctor before you get to be a psychiatrist, but he was so squeamish about giving the shot. He hadn’t done it since medical school or something, I guess. I said, “You’re a doctor, you’ve got to do it.” October fourteenth. ‘Jean-Michel arrived at 8 a.m. for an 11:30 a.m. trustee meeting. Mary and Joe came and brought the raincoat that I bought from Joe’s store. ’
The fifteenth of October, ‘was a cold, beautiful day. We took the 10:46 a.m. to London and got a taxi without waiting. Krishnaji had a fitting on a very handsome Huntsman suit. Rita Zampese met us at Huntsman and brought his Lufthansa ticket. Krishnaji and I lunched at Fortnum’s and went to Hatchards. I dropped him at Mr. Thompson’s at 3 p.m., then I went to the U.S. embassy to try to get an absentee ballot, but failed. I came back to the dentist. Krishnaji is getting a new bridge.’ ‘There was a plague of flies in Krishnaji’s room in the evening. I had to spray poison, then vacuum and clean.’ I think he had to sleep in the guest room. The ceiling was black with flies.

October seventeenth. ‘Krishnaji spoke to the whole school, and it was very good. Jean-Michel and the Salzmans left after lunch. There was a meeting without Krishnaji in the drawing room between the trustees and a group who will start a Krishnamurti Information Center in London. There was a short walk with Krishnaji, Dorothy, and me. It rained on and off all day.’

The twenty-first of October: ‘The Bohms came to spend the night. Krishnaji packed his clothes and I packed his vitamins and food additives. This was some Dutchman who wanted to start a school, and he was somehow connected to Brian Jenkins. ‘Then there was a meeting about a study center at Brockwood. There was a staff meeting after supper.’
October twenty-second. ‘In the Mercedes, Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I drove through Romsey and the New Forest to a Saab garage, where Dorothy received her new car. Krishnaji drove back with her and I came on ahead, stopping at Alresford for brandy’ ‘for him to take to India.’ That was for the medicinal use of brandy

October twenty-third. ‘Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I left at 12:30 p.m. in the Mercedes for Heathrow. On Lufthansa at 3 p.m., Krishnaji flew to Frankfurt to connect with a direct flight to Delhi, leaving at 5:30 p.m., and due at Delhi tomorrow morning at 6:10 a.m. Rita Zampese accompanied him to Frankfurt to see him safely onto the connecting flight in her capacity as a Lufthansa official. Dorothy and I drove back to Brockwood. In the evening, I went from Brockwood to a Glyndebourne performance of Don Giovanni in Southampton. There was a message on my return to telephone Erna. Rajagopal wants an immediate trial.’

Wednesday, the ninth of February 1983

I waited in LA at TWA for Krishnaji’s arrival on flight 761 from London. He left there at 11 a.m. English time, and landed here at 2:15 p.m. when I saw him disembark through the glass door, and he had a porter to help them with the luggage. Forty-five minutes later, he came out and we drove back to Ojai along the sea. He looks well. The Lilliefelts, the Hookers, the Moodys, Mark, Michael, Frances, and Lee Nichol were waiting to greet him. We had supper on trays, and he slept early.’
February tenth. ‘Erna and Theo came at 11 a.m., and Krishnaji recounted the events of the winter.’ ‘We all lunched at Arya Vihara. Krishnaji slept in the afternoon after looking at the redecorated west bedroom at Arya Vihara and approving. It is the site for the library of the proposed Study Center building. He also went to see the new bath in the guest house.’ This is that funny square bath I put in the guest house because Mary Links said she could only bathe in a tub and not a shower. So in hopes of getting them both here, I had installed the only tub that would fit in the space. ‘In the morning, he had approved the settlement offer, so Cohen sent it today to Rajagopal’s lawyers.’
The eleventh. ‘Krishnaji slept only four hours. I unpacked all of his things while he rested. We lunched at Arya Vihara, and he slept all afternoon.’
The next day, there isn’t anything, but on the thirteenth, my diary says, ‘Today I am sixty-eight and feeling well.’ That’s because it was my birthday. [S laughs.] ‘Krishnaji tried not taking naps to help him sleep more at night. Max came and put resin on the gray car. He and others lunched with us at Arya Vihara. We walked with Erna and Theo down McAndrew Road.’
Again, there is nothing of note on the fourteenth, but the day after, ‘We left the house at 7 a.m. and drove by the sea to Krishnaji’s appointment with Dr. Lailee Bakhtiar at 9 a.m. for his fasting blood test. His veins wouldn’t give much. We had breakfast at Lindberg’s, the health food store, then Krishnaji had a checkup by Lailee at 10:30 a.m. We went to Westwood for a Norelco shaver’ ‘and a French dictionary. Again, we to Lailee’s for a cardiogram, and this time his veins were alright, and he had his post-prandial blood test. Krishnaji is in good health. The results for his blood sugar count will come next week. His blood pressure was 130 over 70. We drove slowly home, stopping for a picnic lunch in the car at Zuma Beach. Rajagopal’s deposition for tomorrow is off, as he accepts discussing our settlement offer.’ That was really only to avoid giving a deposition, and for no other reason.
Again, there isn’t much on the sixteenth, but on the seventeenth, our lawyer, Mr. Cohen, and Rajagopal’s lawyer, T. Avsham, conferred all afternoon on our settlement offer. Both of the lawyers agreed, and it’s now up to Rajagopal to commit himself. I spoke in the morning with my New York lawyer, Mitchell Booth, about my transferring this place, Pine Cottage, to the KFA.’
February eighteen. ‘Erna came in the morning to discuss with Krishnaji my donation of this property. Mitchell Booth had telephoned me earlier about a small change in the wording of the agreement, which Mr. Sczudlo is incorporating in the papers. We lunched at Arya Vihara, then I went to the village on errands. We took a small walk to the dip.’
The nineteenth. ‘Krishnaji came on the early walk that Erna and I have been doing all winter. I telephoned my brother at his Vineyard property, as it is his birthday. The final papers for my donation of the McAndrew Road property arrived from Paul Sczudlo of Loeb and Loeb.’
February twentieth. ‘There was a KFA board of trustees meeting at 10 a.m. Krishnaji attended and Lou Blau came to speak about my donation of this place to the KFA. The papers are drawn up by his law firm, Loeb and Loeb. I was absent during this meeting.’ You know, I withdrew so they could talk uninhibitedly if they didn’t like something about this. Part of the agreement was that Krishnaji and I can live here in Pine Cottage for life.’ Apparently, legally, Krishnaji had to have that permission. ‘The board accepted it, Lou left, and I rejoined. We met all day on various matters. We all lunched at Arya Vihara. Krishnaji and I took a short walk to the dip.’
Then there isn’t anything of significance until February twenty-fifth. ‘Krishnaji started recording on a Sony Walkman instead of writing. The result was beautiful. Mary Links had suggested this, and he now wants to get a good cassette recorder so he can do it anywhere. He dictated some letters to me. Lunch at Arya Vihara was with Eve Siegel’—she was the daughter of Ruth Tettemer—‘Maris Lindley, Lily Koffman, and Catherine Kiernan. Laurie Greenwood has left the organization. Krishnaji and I walked with Erna and Theo.’
The twenty-sixth of February. ‘Two inches of rain fell in the night. At 11 a.m., the school committee had a meeting with Krishnaji, the Lilliefelts, and me, then we all lunched at Arya Vihara.’
The twenty-seventh. ‘There was more rain. At 10 a.m., there was another meeting of the Oak Grove School committee and available trustees with Krishnaji. Lunch at Arya Vihara. Krishnaji and I walked down to the dip, which is now a torrent of muddy water and the road is closed. It was astonishing. The water was up to the level of the banks around it, and huge boulders had crashed down. ‘Four inches of rain fell last night.’ That in one night is a lot of water. This was the year of the big rain. I remember it now. ‘The next day, after lunch, Krishnaji and I went with Erna and Theo to Stanley Cohen’s office in Oxnard to discuss the case. Rain, again, came heavily.’

The first of March. ‘Four inches of rain, again, in the night. I spent most of the day working at my desk. Krishnaji was disturbed after yesterday’s meeting at Cohen’s office with the realization of how people can abuse foundations. He questions how we can protect things in the future. We walked down and talked to Erna and Theo about it. Then went to see the raging river in the dip.’
March second. ‘Three more inches of rain fell last night. We put off our trip to Los Angeles. I worked at my desk most of the day, and in the afternoon, we walked down to look at the astonishing water in the dip again. Four bulldozers were there, trying to move earth to prevent the road from washing out. I spoke to my brother and Lisa about her wanting Krishnaji to speak on change for a museum publication.’
The third. ‘It rained on and off but tapered off. Frances McCann came to lunch at Arya Vihara, and Krishnaji talked about schools at the table until 3 o’clock. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji gave an interview to Renée Weber for ReVision journal. We walked again to the dip.’
March fourth. ‘It was a clear morning. Erna and I walked early, then I did desk work and marketed. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji talked to David Moody, after which we walked to the dip. Krishnaji burned his right hand on steam from the kettle. I spoke to Lailee about it, who said to use a Telfa dressing. The burn was a shock to his body, so there was no afternoon walk.’
The next day. I’m not mentioning that every morning, early, Erna and I did our walk around the block, which was just over two and a half miles. ‘At 11 a.m., Krishnaji talked to the teachers here. Krishnaji went to bed in the afternoon. He slept and read, and slept well last night.’
March sixth. ‘At 11 a.m., Krishnaji held another meeting with the teachers here. At 4 p.m., he held a meeting with the Lilliefelts, Tom Krause, Mark, and David about the school committee. It went on till 7 p.m. Krishnaji’s voice was hoarse.’

The ninth of March. ‘It was a warm day, and Krishnaji was well enough to do his morning exercises. After lunch at Arya Vihara, Erna, Theo, Mark, and I discussed a school committee mix-up. Earlier, Erna had talked to Krishnaji about it. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji held a teacher discussion.’
March tenth. ‘Krishnaji talked into his new Sony cassette recorder. Dictation number three. A draft of a settlement came from Rajagopal’s lawyer, Terry Avsham. He claims everything.’ That was his idea of a settlement. ‘At Arya Vihara lunch, Krishnaji heard about the movie E.T. and that it was playing in Ventura, so he and I went with Erna and Theo for the 5:30 p.m. showing. Krishnaji liked it very much. “I like when there is something moral,” he said.’ Well, he also liked the little E.T. ‘We got back by 8 p.m., and had supper by 8:30 p.m.’
The next day. Erna and I went over the Avsham settlement draft, which was totally unacceptable. Krishnaji discussed it with us. There was a meeting of Erna, Theo, Mark, and David Moody about the school board.’ I don’t think I attended that. ‘Krishnaji and I walked to the Lilliefelts’ and to the dip and back.’

March twelve. ‘There was fog during the early morning walk. At 11 a.m., Krishnaji held a discussion with teachers here. Lunch at Arya Vihara. We walked to the Lilliefelts’ and back at 5 p.m. Krishnaji’s hand is painful where the skin has come off the burn blister. I dressed it twice and he wears a cotton glove over the dressing.’
The thirteenth. ‘There was a trustee meeting here, during which there was a school report by Tom Krause and John Hidley. We all lunched at Arya Vihara, then resumed the meeting. There was a decision to enlarge the Oak Grove School board to include Erna, the Hookers, Krause, John Hidley, and Monica Ross. We will keep, for another year, the present school committee.’
The next day, ‘Krishnaji dictated into his cassette recorder, and in the afternoon, he held a teacher discussion here until 6 p.m.’
Fifteenth March. ‘Krishnaji saw a video cassette made from the Movietown News of a film of himself in 1928 in New York and 1930 in Ojai. He said, “I felt no relationship between that chap and this chap.”’

Seventeenth March. ‘Krishnaji dictated on his Sony again, and at 4 p.m., Krishnaji was interviewed on audiotape for KPFK Radio by Roy Tuckman. “Superficial questions,”’ said either Krishnaji or me. It isn’t clear.
March eighteenth. ‘There is more rain, so there was no walk. Krishnaji dictated into his Sony again. From 4 p.m. to 6 p.m., Krishnaji held another discussion with teachers.’
There’s nothing the next day except that Krishnaji keeps dictating into his recorder, and then on the twentieth, ‘At 11 a.m., we went to the Oak Grove School Pavilion, where Krishnaji spoke to parents and teachers till 1 p.m.’
Then there’s nothing of significance until the twenty-second, when, ‘at 10:30 a.m.,
there was a meeting about video with Mendizza, Evelyne, Erna, Theo, and Mark. We lunched at Arya Vihara after Krishnaji had dictated to his Sony. From 4 p.m. to 6:15 p.m., Krishnaji held another discussion with teachers. It rained again.’
The twenty-third of March. ‘ Rajagopal’s lawyer served papers for Krishnaji to give a deposition next Monday. Cohen expects they will settle first. Krishnaji is prepared to go ahead.’
The next day. ‘The earth slid in Malibu, blocking the road, so I went on the Ventura freeway to Los Angeles. I got a pair of New Balance shoes for Krishnaji and vitamins, had my hair cut, did miscellaneous errands, and came home. Krishnaji was having a discussion with the teachers when I arrived. Erna came and said that a settlement discussion between Cohen and Avsham went on, and we will have a draft tomorrow. I received photos of Krishnaji left to me by Blanche Mathias.’ They were taken years ago by Edward Weston, and she left them to me in her will.

The twenty-fifth of March. ‘Krishnaji dictated into his Sony. I marketed and put the guest room in order for the arrival of Dr. Jonas Salk. We lunched at Arya Vihara. Afterward, Erna brought the settlement draft just received and we went over it. I couldn’t agree to a sentence about the material that went to the Huntington Library, saying it “Belonged” to Rajagopal. Erna conferred with Stuart Comis, and the sentence is rewritten acceptably to us. We should hear Rajagopal’s reactions on this draft tomorrow. The next day. ‘Rajagopal and his board will not look at the settlement unless we first agree never to sue them again for any reason,’ ‘so we go ahead with the case, which means Krishnaji’s deposition on Monday. I drove to the Santa Barbara airport and met Dr. Jonas Salk at 2 p.m. Krishnaji greeted him when we got back to Ojai, and then they had tea and talked at some length. The three of us walked way down Thacher Road. At 7 p.m., we dined at Arya Vihara with Erna, Theo, Evelyne, the Moodys, and Michael. Earlier, the Mendizzas had set up lights for tomorrow’s videotaping.’
March twenty-seven. ‘Krishnaji and Dr. Salk talked for one hour and five minutes and it was videotaped on three color cameras by Mendizza and crew. We lunched at Arya Vihara, then Dr. Salk went for a tour of the school before he returned to San Diego. Krishnaji did a silent close-up for the biography film, then rested. We walked in the rain with the Lilliefelts, had an early supper, and early to bed.’
March twenty-eight. ‘We had an early breakfast at 7 a.m., then Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and I went to Mr. Cohen’s office at 10 a.m. He talked with Krishnaji. At 10:30, Rajagopal’s lawyer, Terry Avsham, took Krishnaji’s deposition. ‘It stopped at 12:48 p.m. Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and I had a picnic lunch in the car. The deposition resumed from 1 p.m. to 4:30 p.m. It was exhausting. We came back and went for a walk. Krishnaji’s energy will revive. Radha Burnier just arrived from Australia, and came at 6:30 p.m. We dined with her, the Lilliefelts, and Michael at Arya Vihara.’
The next day, ‘At 10 a.m., Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and I went to Cohen’s office and Krishnaji continued the deposition of yesterday. We again had a picnic lunch in the car, then resumed the deposition, which became wicked. We talked to Cohen afterward. We had our supper at Arya Vihara.’
March thirtieth. ‘Krishnaji joined in the early walk with Erna and me. It was a hot day. Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and I went to Cohen’s office to discuss matters. We returned for lunch at Arya Vihara, and slept in the afternoon. Saral and David Bohm arrived from London.’
March thirty-one. ‘Early walk with Erna. Krishnaji dictated into Sony. We lunched at Arya Vihara with the Bohms, etcetera. It was a hot day. Stuart Comis asked us to see Cohen tomorrow about the settlement offer from Avsham.’
April first. ‘Erna, Theo, and I went to see Cohen at 9 a.m. We read Rajagopal’s settlement draft, which was unacceptable. We talked at length, and decided to reject the offer but withdraw the lawsuit. Came back and reported to Krishnaji, who had approved, in advance, our withdrawing the lawsuit, and felt this was the thing to do.’ Afterward, at Arya Vihara, Erna, the Bohms, the Hookers, Theo, and I ran the video of Krishnaji’s discussion with Jonas Salk. I went to the village for our air tickets. When it was cool, Krishnaji and I walked with Erna and Theo down McAndrew.’
April second. ‘At 11 a.m., Krishnaji talked to parents and teachers at the Oak Grove School Pavilion. We returned for lunch at Arya Vihara. Merali arrived and is staying there. Krishnaji rested in the afternoon.’
April third. ‘At 11 a.m., Krishnaji spoke to parents and teachers again at the Oak Grove School. We lunched there. In the afternoon, I worked at the desk until it was time for our walk, which we did with Erna and Theo. It was cold and windy.’

The sixth of April, ‘I was up at 4 a.m. At 6:30 a.m., Krishnaji and I went on TWA to New York. The Lilliefelts went on another airline.’ We had a nice suite—a sitting room and two bedrooms.’ That hotel doesn’t exist anymore. ‘We had our supper in the rooms.’
April seventh. ‘David Shainberg came by in the morning. My brother came at 1 p.m. and he, Krishnaji, and I lunched at Orsini. Then Krishnaji rested. I went with Erna and Theo to the Felt Forum.’ That’s where he was going to speak in Madison Square Garden. ‘Krishnaji and I had supper in the rooms.’

The ninth of April. ‘We went by limousine to Felt Forum, where at 10 a.m., Krishnaji gave his first New York talk of this year. The audience was late coming in and Krishnaji sat watching them and then gave a fine talk to an attentive audience. The hall was only two-thirds full, but there were over 3,000 people. We lunched at the hotel, walked, and bought some apples. Krishnaji looked at the new IBM building.’ Which is quite beautiful, I think. ‘Pupul arrived from Europe, and came to supper in our rooms with us.’
The tenth. ‘There was heavy rain. We went to Krishnaji’s second New York talk at 10 a.m., at Felt Forum. There was a large, serious, attentive audience. The end of talk was very moving. Krishnaji was almost in tears. Monsoon-like rains began as we came back to the hotel where Erna and Theo joined us. Pupul came, and in her car, we all went to lunch at the Shainbergs’. We had supper again in the rooms. Krishnaji spoke of turning Vasanta Vihar over to the schools.’

April eleventh. ‘We walked to thirty Rockefeller Plaza where, in the Carnegie Endowment conference room, on the fifty-fourth floor, at 11 a.m., Krishnaji held a seminar arranged by Shainberg. It was on seeing that "there is only thinking, not a separate thinker", and it was slow going. Shainberg lunched with us at Il Nido restaurant. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji gave an interview to Barbara Seaman about Dr. Besant until 6 p.m., when Pupul came to see him. She left at 7 p.m. Krishnaji talked of Vasanta Vihar becoming part of the schools after his death.
Twelfth April. ‘We went to the second session of the Shainberg seminar. Then Shainberg, Merali, Krishnaji, and I took a taxi. As Krishnaji got in, his right hand was caught in the door. His wool-padded glove saved his finger from severe injury. At Il Nido, we got ice for it, and he said it was alright. All four had lunch and Merali was the host. Krishnaji and I stopped to buy Mary’s second biography for Bud and Lisa. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji gave a half-hour interview for East-West Journal to Catherine Ingram and publisher Leonard Jacobs. Many photos were taken. We went for a walk and had supper and early to bed.’

The next day. ‘There was the third seminar meeting. Krishnaji and I lunched with Bud, Lisa, and Toodie at Bud’s apartment. Lisa interviewed Krishnaji on change for the museum publication. We walked a bit. Pupul came at 6 p.m. for an early supper in the hotel rooms. In conversation about how Krishnaji came to be what he is, a strange 'something' was felt in the room. Krishnaji said it always comes when this subject is discussed seriously. And it always comes from the left.’

The fourteenth of April. ‘Shainberg came and we went to where Krishnaji and he did a video-recorded discussion. There were two cameras that recorded this fifty-eight-minute conversation. Then Shainberg, Philippa, and David lunched with Krishnaji and me at Il Nido. Philippa and David talked with me at the hotel while Krishnaji rested. At 5 p.m., Mr. and Mrs. James George and their daughter, who are friends of Mrs. Siegel, came to tea. Mr. George is a former Canadian high commissioner to India.’
April fifteenth. ‘Pupul came at 9 a.m. to see Krishnaji. At 10 a.m. my brother came in the Rolls to drive us to JFK airport, where Krishnaji and I took the American Airlines noon flight to Los Angeles. Vivienne and David Moody met us and drove us via the coast to Ojai.’
The sixteenth. ‘ Krishnaji spent the day in bed dozing and reading and resting. The Lilliefelts returned to Ojai in the evening.’

April seventeenth Krishnaji was up and full of energy. He exercised, and talked in the morning with the Lilliefelts about Vasanta Vihar becoming part of the Indian schools and what should Pine Cottage be. Krishnaji sat down beside me, and scolded me for being upset because, after ten days of concentrated work in New York and being too tired to get up yesterday, this, our first day at home, he said he would hold a discussion meeting with the Oak Grove staff tomorrow afternoon. Then he jumped to Mary’s book, the second volume of the biography, The Years of Fulfillment, which has just come out, and which the Indian Foundation members have criticized severely. He said, Mary does not deeply enough know about “all this,” as she had not been around with him in years. He has been thinking about it, and he wants me to write every day so that at some point, and it may be years from now, I will write a biography, which will be right. He said it must start with something about myself, that I am not some devotee. Then he jumped to the subject of 'memory'; of how it had come up in discussions in New York this past week, and how he asked me the question, “Is there something in the brain that is not touched by memory?” He examined it Thursday night —is it imaginary? Is it a projection, etcetera—rigorously, until he was sure. “From doubt to certainty, there is such a thing, and from that there is energy.

The eighteenth. ‘Krishnaji said last night he had felt something evil in the front hall that he had never felt in this house before. He stayed behind when I went to my room and “dealt” with it. It is gone, but he is doing 'whatever it is he does', again. “I understand what it is,” he said, but he does not tell me. He dictated into his Sony this morning, a description of dawn in the valley, then on the mind’s adherence to continuity. He was full of energy at lunch, discussing with David Bohm the 'psyche' as being memory, accumulated thought, and therefore limited, and unable to go beyond. And after lunch, some of us, not Krishnaji, looked at the video done last Thursday in New York of Krishnaji and David Shainberg discussing. It is only fair, the image is in color, but they are slow in getting into things. David Shainberg’s questions are not clear to Krishnaji, and do not arouse a response at first. It is not good enough for TV. From 4 p.m. to 6 p.m., Krishnaji held an Oak Grove teacher discussion.’
April nineteenth. ‘Krishnaji dictated again into the Sony. At 10:30 a.m., he wanted to discuss a study center with Erna and me. He wanted, and we agreed, that it is to be for study and not a place of programs, events, etcetera, and it must be kept separate from the school. He asked if Erna and I feel it is something important. We do. “Who is responsible for the study center?” He asked me, but obviously I am away six months of the year. Will Erna share it? Erna is overburdened. How do we find new responsible people?’ This is me—just what we talked about. ‘The eternal query. He asked if it would be a good thing if he were to spend most of his time here, holding seminars, and not traveling, but he felt the audience in New York had been very good. He wants to give four talks there next year. I stressed the need for each talk to be complete, not the exposition of problems one day and the resolution of it in the next talk. At lunch, he wore his new Navy fatigue shirt from L.L.Bean.’ ‘Very "becoming". He looks very smart and very young. We lunched at Arya Vihara. “David Bohm is picking my brains,” he said. Krishnaji slept deeply in the afternoon, and when he woke up it was raining, but at 5 p.m., we walked all the same down to the Lilliefelts’.

The twentieth of April. ‘I went for an early walk with Erna before the rain began again, at times in deluges. In the morning, Zelma Wilson and her partner, Richard Conrad, brought for Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and me to see the first schematic for the "study center" buildings and small cottages to be built south of Arya Vihara in the orange grove.’ ‘All liked it immediately. ‘I liked it very much and there’s not a thing I would change. She said it would take about six months to get county permission, and until we know we can go ahead, I cannot try to raise funds.’ We never would’ve gotten county permission for that, because it meant more density, which they don’t like. We were able to get the archives because nobody lives there. . All this may mean I won’t go to India this year, but will need to return in the autumn to start work on funds. But these drawings should be an incentive. Krishnaji has trouble visualizing from blueprints, but they will build a simple maquette for him. He listened with apparent approval. We asked only that they proceed making it a little smaller. Krishnaji had done a Sony dictation after breakfast. We lunched at Arya Vihara. He and David Bohm discussed at the table. Krishnaji held a teacher discussion at 4 p.m. I stayed with my desk.’
April twenty-first. ‘I went to Los Angeles on errands and for a haircut. Coming back, I stopped for tea with Amanda. Krishnaji had done a Sony dictation in the morning. I met him and Theo on the road as I drove home. The Bohms went to Berkeley for a week.’
The twenty-second. ‘Krishnaji did a Sony dictation. A letter came from Mary Links saying that her sister Betty had died suddenly of a heart attack. Krishnaji said, “Thank god. Poor Betty. She had an unhappy life.”’ I also telephoned twice to Mary Cadogan in London about the Australian difficulties. Alan Kishbaugh just returned from there, and was at lunch. He had talked to Mavis Bennett and to Donald Ingram-Smith and reported on this. Krishnaji read the report in the evening and said he wanted to invite Mavis and Ingram-Smith to the Brockwood Foundations’ meeting in September. He said, “I made a mistake with that letter I sent from India. It was the Indians’ fault, but I take the responsibility.” He dictated a letter to Mavis and to Ingram-Smith, inviting them to Brockwood.
‘Earlier, while walking to lunch through the Grove, he said suddenly about Rajagopal, “If we have to speak of ugly things, we must do it outside. That is what was wrong in the house the other day.” And later, as we left the kitchen, he had me stop in the hall and look into the living room northeast corner. “You asked what you can do when you are alone here. You must look quietly at that, not hastily.’ It is where the jewels are. ‘It has been neglected. It is a shrine and one must pay attention to it or it will fade.”’
April twenty-seventh. ‘Krishnaji and I, after an early lunch and drive with the Moodys to the Santa Barbara airport where Krishnaji commented on the nice, un-harried airport. We took a plane to San Francisco, where we landed in less than an hour,  and took a taxi to the Huntington Hotel, where we have a nice suite—the same, or similar to the one we had in 1974. This one is numbers 514 and 512. Krishnaji remembered snatches of it. We unpacked and then walked six times around the little park opposite the hotel, and came back to supper in the sitting room. Our TV with supper habits continue. Krishnaji began to get lost in a movie called 'Muggable Mary.’ ‘Dorothy rang earlier about the Inwoods cottage being for sale for 60,000 pounds sterling and Donald Dennis providing the funds.’
April twenty-eighth. ‘Krishnaji slept “fairly well.” A new place, as always, took getting used to. He didn’t do any exercises.

At 11 a.m., Mrs. Justine Toms and her son Robert came and drove us to their place, where her husband interviewed Krishnaji for an hour for their New Dimension radio program, which they send out to fifty similar radio stations across the country. It went very well. Krishnaji was asked about meditation and spoke eloquently, wonderfully.’ They were nice people, and this was, I thought, awfully good.’ They had a little audio studio in their house and it was set up like a recording place. ‘We came back and lunched in The Big Four’—that’s the name of the restaurant in the hotel—‘where the waiter asked if he were Krishnamurti, and said what an honor it was to meet him. He had heard Krishnaji speak in Bombay and Madras and was one of ten of today’s waiters who have PhDs. As I write this, it is after 3 p.m., and Krishnaji is being interviewed by a Donald Lattin, religious editor of San Francisco’s The Examiner. Lattin began with rapid-fire superficial questions. Now he is listening and Krishnaji is giving him an education and fielding questions with humor and charm. The reporter had files and Examiner interviews from fifty-five years ago with Krishnaji and Dr. Besant. He quoted Krishnaji as saying that he was Christ. “Did you mean that then?” he asked Krishnaji. “God knows,” said Krishnaji with amusement.’ And then, ‘At 4 p.m., a serious young woman with a direct manner, Patricia Holt, book editor of the San Francisco Chronicle, interviewed Krishnaji. It was quieter and she is more thoughtful. Krishnaji said she was a nice, intelligent woman and we have asked her to lunch with us after the Saturday talk. We went out for a walk and groceries, going down California Street to a large market. Krishnaji pushed the cart with a determined look, and we got the yogurt, fruit, etcetera we need and climbed back up the hill. People recognized him. We stopped at the Masonic Hall, where he will speak, and went in. Krishnaji was shy about looking at it. It is a graceful, handsome hall. The best for his talks of any I’ve seen so far.’ It’s a very, very nice hall, a big hall, with a kind of long, raised platform and the audience is U-shaped around. The acoustics are very good. It is dignified, and has a nice big lobby. Very, very good.  ‘He looked around. He remembered little about it.’ He’d talked there before. ‘There were some nice leather and other chairs and he tried one out, climbing up on the stage, and said it would do very well. We returned to the hotel in time to see Miranda on KPIX six o’clock news. We had supper in our rooms. The Lilliefelts and others have arrived and are staying on Sutter Street at the Hotel Cartwright.’

April twenty-ninth. ‘During breakfast, a telephone call came from Dorothy almost in tears. At two p.m. English time, sparks from a blowtorch used on the outside of the West Wing somehow got under the floorboards above Krishnaji’s bedroom and destroyed most of his bedroom, but not the closets where his suits hung. The guest room, next to his, and Shakuntala’s nice new room above, and the students’ room next to hers up there were also burned. She said Shakuntala discovered the fire, rang the alarm. Everyone got out. No one was hurt. The fire engines were slow to get there, but ten came. Police helicopters were circling.’ There were still no lights on or water yet, but the telephone is working. She was afraid it might reach the U.S. news. She wanted me to know, therefore, but not tell Krishnaji until after his talks. I told her he was sitting right there. She doubts she will come to Ojai on the eleventh as planned. I urged her to wait and think it over. I said I would telephone her after we got back to Ojai. Krishnaji says he had a premonition a couple of days ago that something was going to happen at Brockwood. “I see it was a definite premonition, now.” He thought at first, when Dorothy rang, that it might be about Montague. He said, “I have no reaction.” We will know more what the situation is after speaking to Dorothy again, and we will see if Krishnaji wants to go there as planned on the twenty-seventh. He says he will sleep on the floor. I pointed out that that would not be necessary, and we argued at once over his using my room, which seems to be undamaged’—in other words, it wasn’t burned—‘and he fiercely refused.’ He could’ve been in the room across the hall, also.
 A photographer came from the San Francisco Chronicle. Then we went to a restaurant called Greens at Fort Mason, a vegetarian restaurant run by Tassajara Zen monastery. We had a nice simple lunch, which Krishnaji liked. He was recognized—given books and a cassette. It was raining when we were ready to leave, and there were no taxis. But a man gave us a lift to the hotel. Krishnaji rested and later we took a small walk around the little park. Krishnaji wants to call Dorothy tomorrow and urge her to come to Ojai as planned. He rejects our staying on at Ojai later than our plans to leave on the twenty-seventh.’

April thirtieth, 1983.  Krishnaji was in San Francisco for talks and we learned of it when we were there, so on the thirtieth, ‘I rang Dorothy to learn more about Brockwood’s fire. Krishnaji spoke to her and insisted she come to Ojai on the eleventh as planned. His desk in his bedroom is burned and so was the bed, and the hi-fi, etc., but his clothes are safe. At 11 a.m., we walked across the street to the Masonic Hall where Krishnaji gave his first San Francisco talk. The hall was almost full. It was a good talk. After the talk, we came back to the hotel, where Patricia Holt joined us, and we took her to lunch at Green’s. She is nice and bright. We sat in a small room off the main ones, so there was some privacy, and Krishnaji was less on view.’ I remember that when we went there, we stood in line for a table, and the mâitre d’hôtel was turning people away, and I asked him for a table for three and he started to say no, but he looked up, saw Krishnaji behind me, and instantly ushered us in and gave us the best table in the place. We were staying at the Huntington Hotel—a nice hotel with nice suites with a kitchen and a sitting room and a bedroom, and then I had one bedroom down the hall. It was very nice. I could cook and things.
The first of May. ‘Mary Links rang from London. She and Joe had gone down to Brockwood, and said the fire damage is not as bad as expected. Krishnaji gave a second very fine talk in the Masonic Hall. Then came a moment of decision. Alain Naudé has not telephoned us as Krishnaji thinks he should. If we do not make the gesture, it escalates the estrangement. I do not feel anything one way or the other. But was equally willing to call or not call. Krishnaji said it was “Naudé’s part” to telephone us but I should decide. So I rang him. He had an amiable voice. He had hoped we would ring. He had given up something to be home in case we did. I said we expected him to call. We went on talking chatter and when the conversation wound down, I asked him if he’d like to come over. He said he did. When he came, he hadn’t changed any visibly. Krishnaji came in in a friendly, charming way. We talked till it got near to 7 p.m., and I ordered supper for three. It was brought up. There was far less tension in Alain than when we last saw him. Perhaps my stopping helping him financially removed the aggravation.

May second. ‘We left the Huntington at 8:30 a.m. by taxi for the airport, and flew to Santa Barbara, which Krishnaji feels is a nice, unhurried, tiny airport with a bookshop that carries Zen and Copernicus,’ and where David Moody and Max Falk met us. It was shining Southern California weather. The house was beautiful and peaceful. It has “The right atmosphere,” said Krishnaji with a smile. We lunched at Arya Vihara. The Bohms are here again. In the late afternoon, while I was marketing in the village, there was an earthquake centered in Coalinga near Fresno. I didn’t feel it and neither did Krishnaji, who was walking down Thacher Road at that point. I met him with the car. In the morning, at the Huntington, he had come to my room, I thought to wake me up as we were leaving early. But he had stayed with me a little, and later he said he had awakened  “with something different” in his head, pointing to his forehead, “which frightened the body, so I came to you.” The feeling has continued, to a lesser degree, all day, but the fright is gone.’ The 'body', in Krishnaji’s terminology, is almost as though it’s another entity sometimes.

May sixth. ‘Krishnaji dictated more into his Sony. Rupert Sheldrake came to lunch. Sheldrake gave a seminar yesterday and gives another one tomorrow at the Ojai Foundation on the Happy Valley land.’ He had written, saying he was coming to Ojai, and I replied asking him to lunch. The Bohms are still here, which made for general conversation. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji held a discussion with Oak Grove teachers.’
The next day, ‘It was a clear day, and Krishnaji slept a little in the morning. With Erna and Theo, I went to Oak Grove to see if the ground is drying out for the coming talks. It looks hopeful.’ It must have rained a lot before this. ‘Then we went to look at a guest house that Max is building in Krotona. Krishnaji didn’t come as he said going there tired him. It’s a dead place. We came back to lunch at Arya Vihara.’
The eighth: ‘It was a warm day. The Bohms left for Ottawa. At 11 a.m., Krishnaji held a teacher meeting here at the cottage. Alfonso Colon came to lunch at Arya Vihara.’
May ninth. ‘Amanda telephoned to say that Miranda and John Perry are planning to marry this summer.’ They did. ‘Krishnaji made another Sony dictation. I did laundry and worked at my desk all day. Dennis cleaned the flat after the Bohms left, and before Dorothy arrives. Erna and I spoke to Jackie Wilde about working on the study center. I walked with Krishnaji down McAndrew.’

May eleventh, ‘I left at 7:30 a.m. for Malibu. Spent an hour with Amanda and Phil before going on to Beverly Hills for a haircut. Then, I went to the airport, where I met Mary Cadogan and Dorothy Simmons arriving on TWA from London. It was a beautiful warm day. We drove back to Ojai along the sea. Krishnaji and the Lilliefelts were waiting to greet them. Dorothy is in the guest flat here and Mary is at the Lilliefelts’. Dorothy, Krishnaji, and I had supper in our dining room, and we heard about the Brockwood fire. Dorothy’s looks show the strain it has been on her. I reached Miranda and John after several tries on the telephone to wish them well. Earlier, Krishnaji had done a Sony dictation.’

May twelfth. ‘It is Krishnaji’s eighty-eighth birthday, which he again ignored and brushed away with impatience. Everybody looks smilingly, but doesn’t say a word. He is, if possible, more beautiful, more endearing, and has that spring of energy that seems to keep his body going. I went for the usual 6:45 a.m. walk with Erna.’ I don’t always report that, but I was doing that every day at this period. ‘The weather seems to have turned from the restless rains of this winter, and come back to sunlight. Krishnaji dictated on his Sony. We all lunched at Arya Vihara, then Dorothy and Mary came back here for coffee. We talked most of the afternoon.’

May fourteenth, ‘It was a beautiful day. Krishnaji and I left the house at 11:10 a.m. for the Oak Grove and found there an enormous crowd. It took twenty minutes for Krishnaji to get in and then give his first Ojai talk. Mary Cadogan, Dorothy, Alan Kishbaugh, and Stella Resnick were at lunch afterwards at Arya Vihara. In the afternoon, I went to reconnoiter another way to get Krishnaji into the Grove from the west side. In the late afternoon, Krishnaji, Dorothy, Erna, Theo, and I walked.’
May fifteenth, ‘It was another beautiful day. I drove Krishnaji to the west gate of the Grove, then brought the car around to the usual parking place on Besant Road. There was a big crowd, and Krishnaji gave a very fine second talk At the Arya Vihara lunch were Narayan’s brother, G. Krishnamurti, Dorothy, Mary, Alan Kishbaugh, and Stella Resnick. We talked at the table about who would be good to interview Krishnaji on TV. Jonathan Miller, Alastair Cooke, Robert MacNeil, etcetera, were discussed until I jokingly said Dave Allen’ ‘and Krishnaji’s face lit up. “Oh yes,” he said

The sixteenth. ‘Krishnaji was tired and didn’t exercise, but rested. His head is paining him; the regular bad of the head pain.’ He got head pain a lot of the time. ‘It was too hot to walk.
May seventeenth. ‘Krishnaji held the first question-and-answer meeting of the year in the Grove. Krishnaji came out accompanied by Kishbaugh, and as Krishnaji reached the car, Avsham, Rajagopal’s lawyer, appeared and handed him a large envelope. We both guessed what it must be. I asked Alan to find Erna and tell her to come to the cottage. We drove off. I stopped along the road to open the envelope. Rajagopal, the Vigevenos, Porter, and Bee are bringing suit against Krishnaji and the rest of us for breach of settlement, slander, interference with their business, etcetera, and they want $9 million. Krishnaji sought to keep me from being nervous. I wasn’t nervous, only angry, but unsurprised. I read it through thoroughly when we reached the house. Erna and Theo arrived. Together we telephoned Cohen, who said, “I didn’t think they’d be that stupid.” We went to lunch and said no more about it except to Alan Kishbaugh, who had seen Avsham hand Krishnaji the envelope as he was taking Krishnaji to the car. We all came back here after lunch, and all, except Krishnaji, went through it. I said privately to Erna that I feel we must tell the other trustees of the details of our last suit, as they are all now defendants.
May eighteenth. ‘Erna and I discussed on our early walk, and we both agreed that we have an obligation to fill in the other defendants on the background to the suits. I came back to the cottage and talked to Krishnaji, who agreed. At 10 a.m., there was a trustee meeting, which had already been called. We were Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, Evelyne, Alan Kishbaugh, Alan Hooker, Tom Krause, plus Mary Cadogan, and Dorothy. Erna and I reviewed the past suits and Krishnaji gave the background to the Rajagopal situation. Mary Cadogan’s reaction was most forthcoming—sympathy and admiration for all we had to contend with. Krishnaji stayed for all discussions of the day, which moved on to complicated publication difficulties with India. After lunch, at Arya Vihara, we continued discussing the agenda for the September international trustees’ meetings of all the Foundations. Krishnaji’s head hurt him all day. He walked with Dorothy and Theo while I fixed supper. The pain, which is in the back of the head, let up when he walked, but returned. At 6:30 p.m., a man came to the door and served me with a summons in the Rajagopal case.’
May nineteenth. ‘Krishnaji said he slept surprisingly well. But the pain resumed in his head.“I haven’t had it this bad in a long time…Well, there it is. Grin and bear it,” he said. I sorted, chose, and typed questions for Krishnaji to use in the "question-and-answer" meeting. He answered all six and spoke for one-and-three-quarter hours. Theo, on the way in, had told him that Vigeveno, Austin Bee, and Annalisa  Rajagopal were in the audience, so he made several references to blackmail, and people who wish to harm him.’ ‘It was a bit edgy, and some may have wondered what he was talking about. “What makes these people follow Rajagopal?” he asked me later. And in the car coming back, he said, “Even now, if Rajagopal had been there, I would have said to him, “Let’s wipe the slate clean.” Part of the problem is that Krishnaji holds no rancor, and, therefore, he never stood up to Rajagopal and Rosalind. But they never let go of the least crumb of rancor. Krishnaji’s head, of course, was all right as soon as he reached the platform. It began again on his return, but less. We lunched at Arya Vihara with Bill Quinn, Max, Mary Cadogan, and Dorothy. It was a hot day. Krishnaji slept in the afternoon. I took Dorothy to a tea for foreign visitors at the Oak Grove School, and we marketed on the way home. We met Krishnaji and Theo walking on McAndrew. I felt exhausted at supper, but revived. Krishnaji got the yellow dishwashing gloves’—they were yellow here and they were blue at Brockwood—‘and said, “The Mahatma is doing the washing up.”’ The by Patricia Holt in the San Francisco Chronicle came. It was on Krishnaji and a review of Mary’s Years of Fulfillment book. It was a nice article.’

the twenty-first, I drove Krishnaji to the west gate of the Grove, then went around and parked on Besant Road in the usual place. Krishnaji gave a talk that had me in tears  at the end. I wanted to kneel, to make that gesture of deepest gratitude for him. An eighty-one-year-old Dutch woman, who came here for the talks, fell, and broke her hip, and is in hospital; so Krishnaji wanted to stop to see her briefly. It is so easy and so un-hospital-like here, that he didn’t mind going.’  ‘The old lady was asleep. I went in first, spoke her name, and said mine, which she recognized. I told her that Krishnaji had come to see her, and her face lit up with surprise. He shook her hand and stayed a few minutes. At lunch were Mary Cadogan, Dorothy, Michael, and Bill Quinn. At 3:30 p.m., I went to the Lilliefelts’ for a meeting of the Krishnamurti Information Center people. I met Krishnaji walking down; so he, the Lilliefelts, Kishbaugh, and I walked down McAndrew.

May twenty-second: ‘Krishnaji was up before me. I warned him the red alarm light was on, but he forgot, and within seconds opened the garden door and the burglar alarm shot me out of bed’ ‘to turn it off. We went to the west gate of the Grove again to let Krishnaji out, and I drove around to park on Besant Road. There was a larger crowd than ever. His talk was one of those that reached into the deepest core of the mind and, like yesterday, there was in him an embodiment of something sacred. The day was warm and beautiful. The brilliance of the yellow bloom flower along the road seemed to be there to honor him. We lunched at Arya Vihara. Merali, who arrived last night, was there, as was Lou Blau, Dorothy, Mary C., The Moodys, Alan Kishbaugh, Stella Resnick, and Narayan’s nephew G. Krishnamurti. At 3 p.m., Krishnaji and I drove with Merali to the Arts Center on Montgomery Street, where, for the first time, Krishnaji and the other trustees saw Krishnamurti: The Challenge of Change, the film that Evelyne Blau and Michael Mendizza have worked on these last five years. I had rather dreaded seeing it, but liked it very much. It runs one-and-a-half hours. It could be tightened, but I wouldn’t want to change much. Only the readings by Richard Chamberlain, who reads Krishnaji’s statements from the early days, were poor. He emphasizes adjectives and adverbs, an amateur sentimental reading of Krishnaji’s austere eloquence. The first half hour of the film is the background biography of his childhood and years up to the 1929 “Truth Is a Pathless Land” speech and “The Dissolution of the Order” speech. Then it is all Krishnaji himself today in India, Brockwood, Saanen, and Ojai. Everyone except Theo seemed to like it. Lou came back to the house and talked with Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and me about the Rajagopal suit against us. He advises us to go after him on all scores. It has been quite a day. I am writing now in the evening and I can see Krishnaji this morning in the Grove, in the pink shirt, sitting with his extraordinary grace and dignity, and in a quiet version of that “Other” voice, being the towering teacher, being everything. Then this afternoon, as the film unrolled, he watched with interest the early days, and was very moved, he said, by the film of Nitya.

.’  ‘Yesterday, Krishnaji went into the west bedroom at Arya Vihara and said, “This is where I last saw my brother. This is where he died.” I felt that tug of something touching me from those days. Krishnaji said he felt no connection with the photos of his young self. It was like watching someone else. And he closed his eyes to the images of himself talking today and listening to the voice.’ the one on the right. It isn’t the one in the back. It is in the front of the house.

May twenty-third: ‘I went for a last massage. It gives such a depth of relaxation that I fell asleep. At lunch at Arya Vihara, there were twenty people. Evelyne and Michael Mendizza were there, and details of the film were discussed. Krishnaji, Erna, and I talked afterward back at the cottage. She had talked to Cohen, who will proceed to answer the charges against Krishnaji and me, primarily, and so far none of the others have been served. Krishnaji and I, in the green Mercedes, went to Santa Paula and had our feet seen to by Dr. Hara. The car curved skillfully along the winding road and Krishnaji was pleased and said, “You are driving like a professional.” ‘The movement of the car seemed a physical pleasure to him. For me, there was the beauty of the day and of driving with him, as we have so many miles through the years. Being alone with him, moving through sunlight, on a country road, is a simple happiness and a world still intact. Passing through upper Ojai, he said, “Those two crooks,” of the two Rs, but he was relaxed and the brightness of the bloom and sight of the yucca in bloom seemed of greater moment than anything else.’
The twenty-fourth of May. ‘On May ninth’—that was two weeks before this—‘I spoke into a cassette I planned to use for verbal memoranda to write up in this journal.  That morning’—May ninth—‘Krishnaji told me that he had been awake that night on and off, and that Rajagopal had been in communication with him, when he was in Ojai, after the 'case'. And when I asked what was its form, he said, “Oh, you know, when you feel that someone is thinking about you.” He said that two days ago it abruptly stopped. “This could mean,” said he, “that either Rajagopal has done something like sent the rest of the archives to the Huntington Library, or some other thing. Or it means that Rajagopal is dying.” But Krishnaji thinks it’s more likely the former. I asked if this had anything to do with the strange sensation in his head, and he said it had nothing to do with that. As I am writing this today, the twenty-fourth, he just has come in and said that his head began hurting this morning in the kitchen. It has not hurt since Sunday’s talk. It’s another hot day. I had an early walk and then worked all day clearing my desk. Krishnaji made this easier by telling me to throw away most of the unanswered letters.’

The twenty-fifth. ‘We said goodbye to Dorothy, who flew this afternoon early with Mary Cadogan to London. I telephoned my brother in New York and Philippa in Connecticut. Krishnaji and I left at 8:25 a.m., and drove via Malibu to Los Angeles. We stopped at Renee Frumkin’s to give her back her ring, which Krishnaji has kept for her since Sunday. She has felt somewhat endangered, and asked me to ask Krishnaji what she could do to protect herself.’ This is a woman who used to live in Santa Monica and showed Krishnaji videotapes. I didn’t know her very well, but she was a nice woman. ‘Krishnaji gave the message for her, “Don’t think about it—you invite it then.” But also said that if that was not enough, to send him something of hers for him to have with him for a bit.’ He would do this with jewelry or something. news. I asked Krishnaji about the pain in his head. “It is there,” he said. Yesterday morning, while he was packing, it was bad. I asked him if he understood it, really knows what causes it. He never mentions it to doctors. He implied it was because he doesn’t go to doctors of his own accord.’ ‘. But the head business began here in Ojai with the events of the pepper tree.’

The twenty-sixth of May. ‘ Krishnaji began to talk about the past and the ordeal he was subjected to by the two Rs. “Why did I put up with it?” he asked over and over. He has a way of asking others these unanswerable questions, the questions we would put to him. It is an ordeal to listen to what he went through. It was time to make supper when he finished, so I packed my bags in the evening, finishing at midnight. Krishnaji went to sleep early. The house was quiet and beautiful. This week has made a luxuriance of flowers. I am glad to be going to Brockwood, but this house is a blessed place.’
The next day. ‘ The TWA flight due to leave at 6 p.m. was delayed. We sat in the lounge, and eventually boarded the plane, but it didn’t take off till 8:30. “At last,” said Krishnaji and then, “Rajagopal can’t get us now.”’ . ‘We had our preferred two forward seats on either side of the aisle. I slept fitfully, contorted in my seat. Krishnaji sat upright like a statue. His sleeping face in the dim light was austere, majestic; an extraordinary carving. Then he awakened and his face became eager, alive as a child. He said he’d had a good meditation. We landed at 2:30 p.m., went through immigration quickly, found a porter, and our bags were soon out to where Dorothy and Ingrid were waiting with two cars. Krishnaji and I went with Dorothy in her Saab to Brockwood, where everyone was waiting on the driveway. We went into the West Wing hall, which is a charming sitting room now with all the drawing room furniture nicely arranged in it. Upstairs, the dining room is transformed into a bedroom for Krishnaji. My file cabinet, typewriter, etc. is moved from my office so my bedroom becomes my office with a single bed. The damage to Krishnaji’s room and guest room is ugly, but I’m surprised that it is not worse. It can all be made better than ever. There was only a faint smell of scorch, mostly in the hall outside my room. They have done enormous work to tidy it up and make things acceptable for Krishnaji’s arrival. Krishnaji had supper in bed. I slept in what was my office, now my bedroom, to be nearby if Krishnaji was disturbed by the changes in the place.’
May twenty-ninth. ‘Krishnaji slept well, and rested most of the day, except for going to lunch downstairs.
The next day. ‘Mary and Joe came in the morning, lunched here, and the four of us sat most of the afternoon in the West Wing kitchen talking at length. Krishnaji recounted his deposition, etc. I felt physically beaten going over all of that again, but Krishnaji, with limitless energy, after that even did a cassette dictation in the evening. It was good to see Mary and Joe. Mary is a little pale.

June fourth. ‘The Bohms came to lunch. There was a discussion between Krishnaji and David about doing two videotaped dialogues to be played in August, in Davos at the International Transpersonal Association Conference’ ‘and then Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I walked across the fields and back through the lane. Dorothy is disturbed by the apathy and antagonism of some of the students and staff.’ ‘At 1:30 p.m., Krishnaji spoke to the school. In the afternoon, Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I, and Kip set off around the lanes for a walk. We were caught in the thunder and rain and came back very wet. Dorothy felt ill . Krishnaji sat on the edge of her bed, and put his hand over her heart. I packed a bag for her. The ambulance came and two men lifted her into a chair and carried her down the fire exit.
June sixth. ‘Beyond her having tests in the hospital, nothing is known yet about Dorothy except that she “rested comfortably” last night. Krishnaji talked to the students in the morning. I went to the staff meeting. I find these meetings wearyingly dull. In the afternoon, Krishnaji and I walked around the lanes. Around 8 p.m., Ingrid rang and said that Montague had been told that Dorothy had had a heart attack. She will need to stay in the hospital for ten days, then rest at home for six weeks, and then be quiet and without effort for three months. I relayed this to Krishnaji and Dr. Parchure. We talked about it for a while in Krishnaji’s room.

June tenth. ‘Years ago, Krishnaji had a letter from Svetlana Peters ( who was Stalin's daughter) and she was to have come to Malibu to meet him but called it off at the last minute. She now lives in Cambridge with her twelve-year-old daughter, Olga Peters. She read The Years of Fulfillment, wrote to Mary Links and subsequently to Dorothy about coming to Brockwood. She has also just written me a long, curiously personal letter about herself, to which I replied; and today I met her at the bus stop in Petersfield. A short, smiling, rather round woman with reddish hair and light blue eyes got off. We both smiled in recognition, as if we had met before, and talked easily on the way back. On seeing the Mercedes, she said, “Oh, I haven’t been in a good car in some time.”’ She married a Mr. Peters, who was an American architect. That’s how she came to be called Svetlana Peters. I wonder what—I have a feeling that I am remiss about that woman. Anyway, ‘She is staying in a cloisters guest room, and after half an hour of her settling in, I came back to bring her to meet Krishnaji in the West Wing. He came toward her in his warm, eager, welcoming way, and we immediately went off for a walk through the grove where the azaleas are still blazingly beautiful and the handkerchief tree flutters. We went the long way around the fields and came back by the lanes. She seemed in awe and also very happy to meet Krishnaji, to talk and walk with him. I invited her to tea afterward, but she seemed to need to return to her room. I talked to Dr. Reilly, who said Dorothy had a “severe coronary” and will have to remain in the hospital for some more days.’

June tenth, 1983. ‘The Bohms came to lunch. Svetlana Peters sat next to Krishnaji and Dave was opposite.’ A few people are aware of who she is, though not many, but they give no sign of it, which is as it should be, as one of the burdens of her life is the Stalin’s daughter image. Krishnaji and Dave talked a bit about international relations at lunch, and she kept silent on that subject. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji and Dave did a dialogue . This dialogue is to be sent as a substitute for Krishnaji at an August Conference of Transpersonal Psychology to be held in Davos, Switzerland. The Dalai Lama is one of the participants, and there’s a long, varied list of others and so Krishnaji agreed to tape a dialogue with Bohm instead of appearing there. I put Svetlana Peters in the assembly hall, where she watched the recording, but Saral and I watch with the school on the monitor in the dining room. I have a rather heavy cough, as has much of the school, so it was better for me not to be in the room where the recording is made. The video looks superb ‘After lunch, Krishnaji  and I took Svetlana on a short walk around the lanes. She asked me to use her first name, which seems to be variously Svetlana or Lana. She leans toward the latter, as sounding less Russian.
June twelfth. ‘Krishnaji spoke to everyone in the morning. In the afternoon, I commenced a chill, and I lay on my bedroom floor by the radiator. Fever ensued and rose to 104 degrees. Dr. Parchure gave me Septrim, an antibacterial drug. I have a heavy cough and congestion in the lungs.’
The next day. ‘I feel rotten. The fever persists, though it is less. Dr. Parchure says I have viral pneumonitis. Svetlana Peters came to say goodbye as she returns to Cambridge by bus. The side effect of Septrim is nausea.’ I remember Svetlana came in and I was huddled on the floor by the radiator from my chill, and I felt she got some image of me as a very unhealthy person. Or so she somehow evinced later.

The sixteenth. ‘My fever has subsided. I feel weak but better. Krishnaji spoke to the whole school. I got up in the afternoon for the return of Dorothy from the hospital. She looked tired and ravaged, but was able to climb very slowly, with Krishnaji’s help, up the fire escape stairwell to her room. The room next to the one she shared with Montague has been arranged for her as a bedroom. Montague was against it. He doesn’t seem to realize that he has saturated their bedroom with his pipe smoking. The lack of sensitivity is amazing. He was puffing on the pipe while Dorothy was having a heart attack, and son Guy is even worse. While she was having the attack and waiting for the doctor to come, he went for a walk. Today, knowing his mother was arriving from the hospital, he also went for a walk, and wasn’t there to help.’

June eighteenth, I saw Dorothy briefly. She looks much better. I took a nap, and had supper upstairs.’ Dave and Saral came to lunch and in afternoon, Krishnaji and Dave did a continuation of the video dialogue on The Future of Man for the Davos Conference.’
‘Krishnaji talked to the school in the morning and to the staff at 4 p.m. I went on errands to Alresford. Pupul arrived at 5:30 p.m. to stay for two days. Krishnaji had me recount briefly the outline of the legal troubles with Rajagopal. I didn’t go into details. She listened with a very long upper lip and said little. She is staying two nights in what was my office and now is a single guest room.’ She, of course, thought Rajagopal Indian, and he was business-like, and so… Krishnaji and Pupul, in the afternoon, did a videotaped dialogue. Krishnaji and I walked around the block after supper. I’m still coughing.’
The twenty-fifth of June. ‘Krishnaji and Pupul did a second videotaped dialogue in the morning. She left after lunch and returns to Delhi tomorrow. There was a staff meeting at 4:45 p.m., and Krishnaji came to it unannounced. Brian Nicholson read a statement on why he had decided to leave. It was unclear, and Krishnaji went into it.

The twenty-sixth of June. ‘At 11:30 a.m., instead of speaking to the whole school and visitors, as he would normally do on a Sunday, Krishnaji spoke only to the staff. Most intensely, most irresistibly, and probingly. It seemed to have a shaking effect.’
June twenty-seventh. ‘Krishnaji and I took the 9:45 a.m. train to London. Joe met us and dropped me, and I took slacks to Hilliard’s to be copied. I then got a present for Vanda, had a haircut, etc. and joined Krishnaji at Mary and Joe’s, where we lunched very pleasantly indeed. Joe took us back to Waterloo. Meanwhile, Frances’s sister had come from Switzerland.

The twenty-eighth. I talked before lunch with Marie-Bertrande and Jean-Michel Maroger, who are here to take Diane home tomorrow at the end of term. In the afternoon, I spoke for an hour with the Hans Vincents from the Holland Stichting about starting a school there.’ They were thinking that they should have a school. ‘At 4 p.m., Krishnaji held another staff meeting and is lighting fires under them.’
June twenty-ninth. ‘It is the end of the term. I spent most of the day at the typewriter, but saw Dorothy briefly. She wasn’t feeling well. Doctor Reilly says there is an “old fibrosis” in the lung left-middle zone.’ That must have been a description of what was ailing her. ‘Jean-Michel was at lunch and then he took Diane back to France.’
The thirtieth. Krishnaji and I spoke to Erna in Ojai. Krishnaji wants “to end it.” How can we? Erna says we have to defend the suit.’
The first of July. Krishnaji and I left Brockwood at 8:30 a.m. in a school car driven by Kathy Forbes. At Heathrow, Rita Zampese was there to smooth Krishnaji’s departure, and her pull as the head Lufthansa public relations persuaded Swiss Air not to charge us for our excess baggage weight.’ ‘We took the 10:30 a.m. Swiss Air to Geneva, and reached Geneva a bit after 1 p.m., where we took a taxi to the Hotel des Bergues. Lunched. In the afternoon, we walked across to do our usual errands: ties chez Jacquet for Joe Links and Krishnaji—the choice was less good this year. Then to Patek pour régler les montres’—the annual adjustment to his pocket watches. ‘Then to the Pharmacie Principale and Grand Passage, where we got long toweling bathrobes for Krishnaji and chose an alarm clock for Dr. Parchure. That seemed enough walking for us both, so we returned to rest before dinner. We dined very pleasantly at the Amphitryon. Krishnaji ate very well and seemed to enjoy it.’
The next day, ‘We spent the morning in beds, the luxury of time and breakfast in bed.’ It is lovely to have breakfast in bed.
‘I coughed my current earthquakes in the night, but the quiet morning was a rest. These pauses in Geneva each year are small luxuries to me. Krishnaji has come safely from wherever we were, and we are again in the tidy order of Switzerland. Today, we lunched in the Pavillon, as the Amphitryon was closed. And at 2:30 p.m., Hertz delivered a nice little white Ford Fiesta. The enjoyment of the familiar was there again. We drove "doucement" au bord du lac until Morges and then the autoroute to the turn-off to Oron, then via Bulle, etcetera, and came to Tannegg by 5:40 p.m. Vanda and Fosca arrived yesterday. We unpacked before supper. Krishnaji came to the table. Though he is beginning to cough, he says he still feels full of energy.’
July third. ‘Krishnaji stayed in bed. He had a 99.2 fever in the afternoon. I rang Dr. Parchure at Brockwood for advice. He said that Dorothy had come downstairs at Brockwood for lunch and a walk outside with Whisper. I slept all afternoon. Krishnaji said at lunch that he would live to be 100, “To see what it is like.” He later told me, “Rajagopal is getting it. I have sent two angels to tell him.”’ He should’ve sent something from downstairs with a pitchfork.
The fourth of July. ‘I went down into Gstaad on errands. Krishnaji stayed in bed. I slept in the afternoon.
The fifth. ‘Krishnaji remained in bed. His temperature was 99.4 in the afternoon. Vanda and I did shopping errands in the morning. Dr. Parchure arrived just before supper, having flown to Geneva and found his way by train to Gstaad. I am very cheered to have him at the medical helm. Krishnaji is glad of his presence, too.’
The next day, ‘Krishnaji remained in bed. His temperature was ninety-eight in the afternoon. Dr. Parchure and I went shopping for all kinds of remedies, a steamer, etcetera. I worked at the desk, but also took a nap. Vanda signed the lease for Tannegg for next year.’

On the ninth of July, ‘I got a letter from Mary L. suggesting novelist, philosopher, and don at Oxford, Iris Murdoch as someone for a videotaped dialogue with Krishnaji. He agreed, so I wrote to Mary to pursue it. As Vanda and I were leaving Tannegg to do our errands

(...) As Vanda and I were leaving Tannegg to do our errands, a taxi disgorged a woman with four bags. It was this year’s crazy lady. A Ruth Jacov of Zürich, who thinks she is married to Krishnaji, and writes amorous letters about their life on the astral plane.’ ‘She had arrived to join him at Tannegg. I took the firm line of reality, having learned from all past summers that endless understanding conversations only let the fantasies bloom. We offered to drive her to a hotel, but she refused that, so we took her back to the train station from which she had just come, and somehow got our errands done before everything closed for the noon hour.’ This is a representative Gstaad summer day event. ‘After lunch, we telephoned Dorothy at Brockwood. Her voice sounded well. Dr. Reilly prescribed a two-mile walk each day. She says she feels feeble. We also telephoned Erna. Rajagopal refused to come to Oxnard for a deposition, insisting it be done in Ojai. Stuart Comis’—that’s our lawyer—‘goes to court on Monday about this.’ He wanted it done in his house. In other words, he didn’t want to do it, but anyway.

The tenth of July. ‘Krishnaji, who got up yesterday with his voice was heavy and was still coughing—his voice was clear this morning, in spite of a bad night and not enough sleep.’ He had this—usually, something was wrong with him, he would have some illness before the talks. And on the morning of the talk, it would be gone. It was remarkable, and it happened over and over. Anyway, ‘Dr. Parchure had me give him, just before leaving for the tent, a spoon of warmed onion juice and honey.’ ‘He gave the talk almost without coughing. The summoning of energy that his body is able to do when needed, that is, for his work, is extraordinary. And it happened again this morning. He spoke one hour and five minutes to an overflowing tent. He slept when he got back to the chalet, and lunched in bed. After some coughing, he slept all afternoon. So did I. Though he is tired, he is reading a Graham Greene. He has nothing else. All the shelves of thrillers are out of favor, and there are no nature books at Cadoneau’s store.’ ‘He doesn’t want novels, least of all, what I have, which is Proust.’ ‘I will go back to hunt again tomorrow.’
July eleventh. ‘Krishnaji is still coughing. He dictated four letters to India. There is trouble there, as usual, with Bangalore Valley School. The principal, Dr. Shankar, and Krishnakutti have started advertising for religious people and are starting religious centers here and there without consulting KFI. The Patwardhans are very upset. Dictating letters and expending his energy did no good for his cough. Dr. Parchure feared he was heading for fever and, with the talk tomorrow, it was worrisome. Dr. Lichti was due to arrive in Saanen tonight for the talks. I rang her at lunchtime in Zürich and explained the situation. She telephoned the Gstaad pharmacy with a prescription, which I fetched: an antibiotic, Fibromyacin. Dr. Parchure delayed giving it until Dagmar Lichti arrived. She examined Krishnaji, and decided he did not need Fibromyacin as the fever has not developed. Krishnaji’s blood sugar is the problem. Dagmar telephoned one of Gstaad’s pharmacies for Rastinon, an anti-diabetic pill Krishnaji took in India, which agreed with him. The pharmacist opened his place at 7:30 p.m., and I fetched the tablets. Dagmar also gave Krishnaji a Vitamin B shot very skillfully in the vein in his left forearm. She stayed to supper with Vanda, Dr. Parchure, and me.

 July twelfth. ‘Krishnaji didn’t sleep well. There were too many things done with his body last evening. But he coughed less. He looked tired when he got on the platform, but that extraordinary flow of strength came; his face changing, and a remarkable ensued for just over an hour. He spoke of 'zero' containing all the numbers, and then said the 'present' contains all of time. Peace cannot come about through thought. If you see division in relationship, what do you do? To not try to answer with thought is the beginning of intelligence. When we got back to the chalet, Al Blackburn rang. He called earlier about something very important that he must see Krishnaji about right away. So Krishnaji said, “Get it over, have him come now.” He took time to get there when Krishnaji could have been sleeping. Then it turned out, the 'thing of importance' was a book Blackburn wrote that is being published. For this, he took over half an hour of Krishnaji’s energy. Wretched idiot,’ I write. I was irritable because, you know, he said he had to see Krishnaji about something important, and it was only about a book he’d written. ‘During that time, Parchure gave me a Vitamin B shot. Dagmar came to lunch. Krishnaji ate in bed. Dr. Parchure and Dagmar made lists of foods Krishnaji can and cannot eat. Dr. Parchure took his blood sugar fasting this morning and it was 180. He has a strict diet now.

The thirteenth of July. ‘Dr. Lichti gave Krishnaji an intravenous shot in the early morning. Dr. Parchure and I discussed Krishnaji’s expenditure of energy, and Dr. Parchure talked to Krishnaji, telling him how unhappy he is at having to give Krishnaji shots and remedies to pick him up when the overall care of his health is neglected, that is,  giving the body a chance to rebuild its own energies. He suggested, and Krishnaji agreed, that he henceforth deal only with questions of the teachings; not personal relations, the workings of schools, the organizations, etcetera. So, based on this, he only greeted those who came to attend the trustee meeting of the English Foundation here at 11 a.m. Krishnaji remained in bed all day. In the afternoon, Marie-Bertrande, Daphne, and Diane came to tea. About 8:30 p.m., the telephone rang. It was Stanley Cohen, Erna, and Theo, who had met for four hours at his office and were calling from there. Rajagopal’s lawyers demand Krishnaji give a deposition before October first. I said it was impossible to expect a man of eighty-eight, in fragile health, with a heavy schedule, to fly halfway around the world in a week’s time, etcetera. Cohen said the consequences could be Krishnaji being found in default in the suit, his testimony no longer usable, and a possible loss to the Foundation and the rest of us. We talked at length. Finally, I said I would report it all to Krishnaji and telephone tomorrow. I did this, and Krishnaji said we must go. As he speaks tomorrow, he went to bed and slept well. I didn’t.’

The fourteenth of July: ‘I talked to Krishnaji early about the legal situation. He suggested canceling the international trustee meetings to have been held at Brockwood from September seven to fourteen, and that he and I fly to California on the seventh. I agreed, providing we take Parchure along to care for his health. He agreed. I telephoned Mary Cadogan and Jane Hammond here about this plan, and then rang Pupul in Delhi, who immediately said Krishnaji mustn’t go; then, that we must get another lawyer; then that Krishnaji must go on a diplomatic passport. I dealt with all that and asked her to let Sunanda know that the international trustee meetings were off. Krishnaji and I talked it over and decided we’d go on the seventh as above, and remain in Ojai until just before he has to go to India, then all three of us would return to Brockwood. Krishnaji would go to Delhi, accompanied by Parchure, and I would remain at Brockwood to complete my chores about the fire damage insurance, choosing fabrics, etcetera, then I would return to the U.S. Krishnaji gave his third Saanen talk with vigor Dagmar Lichti came to lunch. I rang Erna and told her what we were doing. She sounded very relieved. Krishnaji and I went for the first walk we have taken this year, up the hill and through the woods

July fifteenth. . Krishnaji remained in bed. Vanda went to Lausanne. Dagmar Lichti brought special butter, breads, and things from Zürich for Krishnaji.’ ‘Krishnaji got up and went for a walk with Dr. Parchure after supper, really too late. It was after 9 p.m. when they returned.’
The sixteenth. ‘Mary Links rang from London. She saw Dorothy at Brockwood yesterday, and said she looked fairly well. She also had a telephone call from Rajagopal about two letters he had sent her. He asked if she had received them, and why hadn’t she acknowledged them? Because there was no note from him, she replied. He asked, had she shown them to anyone? She replied, “To Joe.” Who? he asked. “My husband,” she said. “Oh, that’s alright,” he said. Then he asked, “To anyone else? To Mary Zimbalist?” Then Mary changed the subject and the conversation ended.’ ‘I told her we were going to Ojai in September. Dagmar Lichti gave Krishnaji a second intravenous shot in the delicate vein in his arm.’ He was very hard to give intravenous shots to, as his veins were small. ‘I fetched Mr. and Mrs. Rex Henry at the Saanerhof and brought them to lunch at Tannegg. He wrote that they had come to hear Krishnaji one last time as they are eighty-six and getting infirm. They live now in southern Spain. I drove them back.
The seventeenth of July. ‘ Krishnaji gave his fourth Saanen talk on 'what is intelligence'. After resting, he came to the lunch table. The air was cooler, and had a lovely mountain feeling: cowbells, buttercups, and the silent snow-topped peaks. We had fondue and talked, and my raspy throat was soothed with the cold descent of ice cream. This summer has been one perfect sunny day after another, but almost too hot.

July eighteenth. ‘Vanda left at 9:30 a.m. for Florence. She will return August ninth, so I can go to Rome to see Filomena on the tenth. The telephone rang, and it was Asit at the Palace Hotel, having arrived from Greece last midnight. He came to see Krishnaji midmorning and the three of us talked till lunchtime. Computer talk at first—the enormous developments. His company specializes in a computer larger than any made by IBM. The Japanese have set national goals to cure cancer, to duplicate the human brain.’
‘Krishnaji: “Where will all this lead?”’
‘Asit: “Perhaps to a wider gap between the technical elite and the masses who will have almost no opportunities in the world as it will be.”’
‘I asked what is happening along these lines in Russia, and Asit said they are concentrating on biochemistry, research into parapsychology, especially mind reading and control. Asit asked Krishnaji if this is possible. Krishnaji said, “Of course, mind reading is obviously possible.” Asit asked if Krishnaji could do it, and Krishnaji replied that he could, but that he refuses to. Then as Asit is an Indian trustee, he was told of the Rajagopal suit. Krishnaji went on to say a person can block someone else reading one’s mind, reaching it. Rajagopal’s aggression is directed at him, but Krishnaji forms a 'wall' it cannot penetrate. On Krishnaji’s side, there is emptiness, which forms the wall, and within this, Krishnaji can function.
‘Krishnaji went on to say that because Rajagopal’s sendings cannot penetrate, “It is like coming up against a rock,” and it returns to Rajagopal. “I do not want to hurt him. I am not doing anything to him,” but something may change, that stillness may reach him, or perhaps if he is too full of hatred, it may not. “It will be interesting to see. That is one reason I want to go to California.” ’‘Krishnaji spoke in that way that may be serious or may not of those very high in Masonry to whom two angels are given. They watch over the welfare of a person or persons, though he may not ask for himself and may rarely ask an action from them. Krishnaji has never asked his until now. But he has “sent two angels to talk to Rajagopal” to make him turn from this ugliness.’ ‘Asit translated this into a "force of goodness" and Krishnaji smiled. He spoke of sensing an atmosphere when serious things are being discussed, which is different from the atmosphere when discussing computers.’ There was that. ‘Though interest generates its own atmosphere. Asit asked if Krishnaji could convey to a friendly person instead of Rajagopal in ways that would change them. Krishnaji said that is what is happening in the tent, but the other person must be willing to listen. I understand this to be listening with emptiness, without the filter and chatter of thought. Krishnaji’s turning away Rajagopal’s aggressive projections seem to be empty and that emptiness creates the wall of privacy, which is impenetrable. His mind cannot be read if this happens. Krishnaji said he thinks the ancient Hindus knew about this. This is part of meditation.’

‘Dr. Parchure joined us at lunch. Asit left at 3 p.m. to go to Geneva, then on to Paris, New York, etcetera. Dr. Parchure took Krishnaji’s blood sugar this morning before eating, and it was 120, and postprandial this afternoon was 200. I walked with Krishnaji and Dr. Parchure. Krishnaji was tired, but he wants to be well, and it is said that exercise reduces blood sugar, and so off we went. He approved my setting a good pace and when we came to the river, he wanted to go on. His soldier walk.’ . We came back to find Asit still here, postponing his future trips because he has never heard Krishnaji speak in Saanen.

The nineteenth of July. ‘Krishnaji gave talk number five. Krishnaji, Dagmar, Rita Zampese, and I lunched with Asit and Minakshi, Asit’s wife, at the Palace Hotel. Asit had ordered the meal, which was very splendid. Alone in the large dining room, served by two waiters and a mâitre d’hôtel: huge cheese soufflés and other goodies. We took naps later.
Dorothy telephoned. Her checkup and cardiogram went well and she sounded cheerful.’
The twentieth. ‘Krishnaji slept well. In the morning, Asit came and there was a taped discussion with Krishnaji. Asit left Gstaad. David Shainberg came by and walked with Krishnaji. I picked up Mary Cadogan and we went to supper with Harsh and the audio crew at their chalet. Shainberg had said previously to Dagmar and Rita that Krishnaji should stop talking as there is nothing new; he was repeating himself. They were indignant and told me.’ Shainberg was a really…I won’t use the word… Eventually, when I heard of some slanderous lies about Krishnaji that he was circulating, I told him what I thought of him. I told Krishnaji that Shainberg said he should stop talking and Krishnaji brought it up with him on the walk. Shainberg replied that he had said that just to see what they would say.’ ‘A not-quite-believable excuse, as he had said this before, and earned the Lilliefelts’ distrust.’
The twenty-first of July. ‘Krishnaji gave his sixth Saanen talk in the very hot tent. At 3 p.m., Mary C., Gisèle Balleys, and I held a Saanen Gathering committee meeting. At 4 p.m., Dagmar Lichti came and had a conference with Krishnaji and Dr. Parchure on his program of activity, diet, exercise, medicines, etcetera. She will send Krishnaji a summary. Then she said goodbye and left for Zürich.’ What a nice person. ‘Krishnaji and I telephoned Erna not to cancel the New York and San Francisco talks for next year. She had written asking about them as announcements have to go in the next Bulletin.’
July twenty-second. ‘We are starting a new program: We walk early and briskly at 6:45 a.m., Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and I stride to the river and back. Then we do our exercises, have breakfast, etcetera. The early morning is clean, new, full of forest smells and mown hay. At 11 a.m., there was the annual International Committees meeting of all the foreign Krishnamurti committees, with Krishnaji attending. He spoke rather indiscreetly about the points of contention between KF India and the English Foundation and the American Foundation, saying no difficulties ever arose between England and the U.S., but India is difficult.’ ‘It all went on the tape, and it was felt later that the tape should be edited to avoid Indian hurt feelings or indignation.’  Krishnaji also started a discussion on brain cells at 12:50 p.m., when he knew everyone was going to lunch at the Saanerhof, which we did, not Krishnaji, rather late, and there was further talk about various things. I left at 4 p.m. and took Krishnaji to buy track shoes. It was too hot for the scheduled second late afternoon walk.’
July twenty-third. ‘Early walk to the river, then I did errands. I sorted the handed-in questions for the question-and-answer meeting tomorrow, then fetched to lunch Magdalina Jascinska, our Polish friend, who is here with her professor husband, George. She was able to come from Poland to escort him home after his double bypass operation in Germany.’ So they couldn’t otherwise have left Poland at that point in 1983. ‘Their eldest son Henry was imprisoned in Poland for circulating Solidarity leaflets. They expect him to be released under the amnesty announced yesterday. We had not met her husband before. A nice, very fluent man. At 5 p.m., Krishnaji saw a blind Sri Lankan man who came here for the talks. Shainberg came by to say goodbye.

The twenty-fourth of July. ‘There was another early walk with Krishnaji and Dr. Parchure. Krishnaji held the first question-and-answer meeting at 10:30 a.m. in the tent. He spent one hour on the first question, and answered only two. At 4:30 p.m., I took things to Jane Hammond for her to bring them back to England as she leaves by car and had room to carry things. Then I fetched Magdalina to Tannegg for Krishnaji’s touch, as she has trouble with her foot. Harsh came up to talk to me about Brockwood. He was nervous about how Dorothy will take the position of the four. Probably Dorothy worries about it, too.’
July twenty-fifth. ‘Early walk with Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and me. Krishnaji held the second question-and-answer meeting, and he answered three questions. Magdalina and her husband came to lunch. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji saw a 'swami Yogamudrananda Saraswati', who turned out to be a youngish, rather brash woman who rather called Krishnaji to account for not following traditional guru lines.’ ‘She knew nothing about his teachings, and wasted his time. He then saw the Siddoo sisters and meanwhile I brought Nadia Kossiakof up to tea with me, and she saw Krishnaji too when he finished with the others.

The twenty-sixth of July. Krishnaji held the third question-and-answer meeting, thereby ending this summer’s series. He covered six questions.
The twenty-seventh. ‘We both slept late, and didn’t walk. “Whole body is tired,” he said. I took Dr. Parchure to see the ailing Donald Dennis and did errands. We lunched quietly. Krishnaji slept most of the morning and afternoon. It was very, very hot.

July twenty-eighth. Krishnaji gave an interview to a Swiss German radio network, and a Jeanne Chevalier took photographs. I went to tea with Rita Zampese at the chalet where she stays.’
July twenty-ninth. ‘Dr. Parchure, having treated everyone else, is finally down with the virus, but got up to come with Krishnaji for a fasting blood sugar test by Dr. Rolf Steiger’s at 8:15 a.m. which read 110, and again after lunch, when it suddenly, surprisingly, was 86. Based on this, he reduced Krishnaji’s dose of Rastinon to half a tablet.’
The thirtieth. ‘Krishnaji and I went for the 6:45 a.m. walk. It was a radiant morning. It is a sense of blessing to walk with him on our familiar path. We walked quite fast, his asking me to set the pace, and it is outwardly a march, but then it is the marvelous continuing joy of summer mornings with him. Dr. Parchure has fever and the standard cough, so he remained in bed.

Gisèle Balleys came for coffee and talked about a possible Swiss school. A Mr. Grohe wants to back it.

August first. ‘We had walked in the morning again, and also did so in the late afternoon in the beginning of a light, welcome rain. The weather is breaking at last. In the morning, Krishnaji saw Mr. Grohe, the man who is interested in starting a Swiss school. Nice man, says Krishnaji, who invited him to visit Brockwood.

August third. ‘I woke up to snow on all the high mountains and the Wasserngrat, too. It was too wet for an early morning walk. Krishnaji dictated letters to Sunanda and Pama. He is uneasy about them, and has lost confidence in them.
Pupul telephoned from Madras. They are to have a KFI meeting Saturday about the Shankar and Krishnakutti mess at Bangalore. Krishnaji gave them authority to fire both of them and later had me call Pupul back to say that Krishnakutti should be asked to resign from the Krishnamurti Foundation. Krishnaji is disturbed that the Foundation has let this situation grow. They should have stopped it in the very beginning.’

(...) The sixth of August, 1983, we’re still in Gstaad. ‘Erna telephoned about a decision on where Rajagopal’s deposition will be taken. These matters will be brought before the judge in Ventura on Monday. Cohen’—that’s our lawyer—‘wanted Rajagopal to come to the Oxnard office for psychological reasons, to get him out of his lair. But it seems more important to me to ensure that Krishnaji has his taken at a place that is convenient for him—not Los Angeles, for instance. So, quid pro quo. Rajagopal can have it at the K&R office providing we choose the lieu for all of ours. ‘Krishnaji gave a “treatment” to Robert de Pomereaux, who gave me a donation for Brockwood. Krishnaji slept in the afternoon, and so did I. He looked fragile today, which twists my heart. But he went on the early walk in his new mittens, and called out to me to “Keep up the pace.”’ . ‘We had raclette at lunch, which Krishnaji had never had, and a fine ratatouille, and fruit tart. So we went for the afternoon walk to 'walk off the feast'.

August eighth. I walked with Krishnaji to the river in the late afternoon. Krishnaji has a new plan. He is disturbed by the failure of the KFI to deal with the Shankar and Krishnakutti situation. He feels it should have never come about, and that there’s no one there to talk to younger people. He is thinking of Dr. Parchure for this, to have him accompany him to India, and come in May and June to Brockwood and possibly Ojai. But the rest of the time he would be at Vasanta Vihar, partly organizing studies of the teachings there, and meeting people, but also traveling all over the Far East, finding people, spreading interest in Krishnaji’s teachings. Dr. Parchure is fired up by this and eager. My first thought is for Krishnaji’s health. Parchure would still be in charge in India and Brockwood in the spring. Krishnaji is continuing to discuss it, and will put it to Pupul when she comes to Ojai in September.’
August ninth. ‘The early walk was with Krishnaji and Dr. Parchure, who has observed my puffing going uphill. He thinks I need strengthening, and has come up with a plan to both strengthen me and continue Krishnaji’s massage, which Parchure now does. He will teach me to do it. He has persuaded Krishnaji, who says, laughing, “We will start at Brockwood, but no one must know about it!”’ Krishnaji’s face was drawn, and he leaned against the pillow with closed eyes during part of the dictating, which worried me. I told Parchure. Krishnaji stayed in bed, and there was no afternoon walk. I did errands in the afternoon, and brought Vanda up the hill.’ She would walk down, and then I’d bring her back. ‘Erna hadn’t telephoned about the Monday court hearing on times and places of deposition, so in the afternoon I rang her. She hadn’t heard from Cohen, but called me back after speaking to him, and I learned that in return for letting Rajagopal have his deposition at the K&R office on November first, we can have ours in Ojai or at Cohen’s office, whichever we choose. Also, we got to see papers he will use in the case prior to his deposition. I told Krishnaji all of this, and he said we must go all the way in this so that Rajagopal cannot start it all again. “What I am doing may not be working,”
 ‘“Can you tell?” I asked. He replied, “Oh yes, I can feel it. I will continue. I do it each day, but he may not give in.” And then, “We will see when we get there.” He again said that he wants to go to Ojai. “Why?” I asked. Krishnaji replied, “To solve this Rajagopal thing. He has nothing to do, and has done nothing these past years but plot.” I went to bed trying to deal sensibly with worries.’

The eleventh. ‘Krishnaji still feels “low” and stayed in bed all day. I walked in the early morning, which does seem to make me stronger, then worked at my desk all morning. I am almost at the end of the pile of letters. I went with Vanda and Dr. Parchure on errands in the afternoon. Krishnaji felt better in the evening, looked better, and said he might walk in the morning.’
August twelfth. ‘Krishnaji didn’t feel up to walking, and remained in bed all morning. I walked with Dr. Parchure, and later in the morning did errands. Krishnaji got up for lunch as Vanda’s friend, Mr. Carini, had come to Gstaad to see him. They talked before and after lunch, and Krishnaji was his normal self, telling some of his astronaut-Brezhnev-Pope stories.’ ‘For instance, the one about “the boss’s son” in heaven.’ ‘I took a nap to which I seem to be becoming addicted.’
August thirteenth. ‘I talked on the early walk with Dr. Parchure about what pulled Krishnaji down this week. Possibilities: One, it could be the shot for hand tremors that Dr. Lichti prescribed. Parchure is not sure what is in them except that it is not a drug. It’s something that acts slowly, and after having them for two weeks, the cumulative effect may not agree with Krishnaji. They have been discontinued. Two, stress. The only stress this week has been Krishnaji’s concern about the Bangalore school Shankar matter and KFI not handling it. Also, Sunanda’s refusal to join in the interschool journal which Mary Cadogan wrote to her about. He feels it is a “separative” reaction, which Krishnaji deplores.’ Meaning separation of the Foundations, pulling away from shared work. ‘Other forms of stress lie ahead. Whatever tensions come up at Brockwood between Dorothy and the four, the stress of travel, the stress of the court case in Ojai, etcetera. We will have to see. But for today, the mountains looked benign because Krishnaji looks well, and I have finished all’—underlined—‘the wretched letters, and have begun editing some Letters to the Schools, which I will type on the IBM typewriter back at Brockwood. I telephoned Filomena in Rome. Erna rang. Her deposition is postponed to September thirteenth.’
There is nothing of significance on the fourteenth, but on August fifteenth, ‘Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and I left Vanda, Fosca, and Tannegg at 9:45 a.m., drove to Bulle where we got on a new-to-us autoroute to join the lake one near Vevey. We stopped at 11:30 a.m. at Mr. Grohe’s in Buchillon for a slight visit and continued to Cointrin.’ That was the Geneva airport. ‘Krishnaji agreed to a wheelchair, which worked splendidly.’ I had to trick him into that.’ I went up to the young woman behind the counter to check us in. I had previously suggested using a wheelchair to Krishnaji, who said, ‘No, no, no, no, everybody will think I’m sick.’ So, I said no more, but when I got up to the check-in counter this time, I asked in French to the lady behind the counter if they had a “chaise roulante pour monsieur?” and “Oh, oui madame,” she said. Krishnaji heard this, but before he could say anything, she was sending for it. A sort of middle-aged man pushing a wheelchair arrived shortly, and when he looked at Krishnaji, he almost fainted, because it seemed he had been going every week to watch videos of Krishnaji’s talks, I think at Grohe’s place. So, this man was driving from where he lived, presumably in Geneva to Buchillon, where Grohe lived, to watch videos, and here he was to push him, Krishnaji agreed to a wheelchair’—so, I don’t put in here all the drama—‘which worked splendidly. ‘Swissair landed us in Heathrow at 2:30 p.m.’ Part of my wanting a wheelchair was because when we get to Heathrow, there is always a long line for immigration and customs. The wheelchair got Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and me past an enormous queue, and we were back at Brockwood soon. The country is in drought. Dorothy and others were there to greet Krishnaji. We are glad to be back. Builders have started today on the house.’

. August sixteenth. ‘Dr. Parchure and I walked at 6:45 a.m. I asked Dr. Reilly to come and examine Krishnaji as he still has bronchial symptoms. He prescribed Ethromycin and will do blood samples tomorrow. I went to Alresford to fill the prescription and also got a Magimix to make carrot juice. Krishnaji remained in bed. It was a warm day. It was good to see Dorothy looking well. I telephoned to Mary Links.’
The seventeenth of August. ‘I walked alone in the early morning. Krishnaji is feeling better but staying in. Dr. Reilly came at noon and took blood samples, which I then took to the Winchester Hospital lab in the afternoon. It was a hot day again. I got Brothers Karamazov and Turgeniev’s Hunting Sketches for Krishnaji.’ I did? I can’t imagine Krishnaji reading those books.

On the nineteenth, ‘I went to London with Dr. Parchure to get him a visa for the U.S. at the U.S. embassy, and then to TWA about our tickets. Also, we got Krishnaji a pair of New Balance track shoes. It was hot in London. We got back at 6 p.m. Krishnaji had seen Dr. Reilly, and the blood tests are “normal.” The Bohms are here.’

August twenty-second. ‘Krishnaji and I went by train to London. Joe and Mary met us and dropped us at Huntsman, where they agreed to make two pair of light linen and terylene trousers for Krishnaji to take to Ojai on the seventh. We walked to Hilliard’s, where I tried on new trousers.’ Hilliard’s was another tailor down on Cork Street that I used. ‘Then we went to the Links’s, where we both had lunch with both of them. They drove us back to Waterloo. We had to change at Guildford, which entailed a wait. We got back by 6 p.m. Krishnaji has now finished his course of Ethromycin.’
The twenty-third. ‘We both went on an early walk across the fields. Krishnaji’s voice is hoarse. He rested most of the day. Pupul telephoned, saying that she is not coming to the U.S. in September. She said Krishnaji must not go to Sri Lanka as it is now too dangerous with the conflict there. Krishnaji told her he would like more time to rest before India, so the Delhi talks must be postponed a little, and he will leave for India at the end of October.’
August twenty-fourth. ‘We did the early walk. Mary and Joe came to lunch, and Mary stayed the night in the little room in the West Wing. Mary Cadogan was also here during the day. She and Mary Links talked to Krishnaji about the Indian book. Mary C. and Dr. Parchure and I discussed Krishnamurti people in the Asian countries. In the evening, Krishnaji, Mary Links, Dorothy, and I looked at a video cassette of the Paul Newman film called Answering Malice.’
The twenty-fifth. ‘I took an early walk, then talked to Mary most of the morning. Krishnaji slept. Anneke arrived. Joe came for Mary, bringing his sister, and they left. Krishnaji gave an interview to Mr. Vallère-Gille for broadcast on Belgian Radio. Krishnaji watched a videocassette film in the evening.’ I write this as though there’s only one Belgian radio station , but I may be being dismissive of the Belgian possibilities, but that’s what it says.
August twenty-sixth. ‘Didn’t walk early, but did exercises. People arrived all day for the Brockwood Gathering. Krishnaji dictated letters. At 4 p.m., he saw the Fundación trustees. Then he, Scott, and I walked. I telephoned Erna about the cancellation of Sri Lanka.’ She wanted to put it in the Bulletin.
The next day, ‘It was a warm, clear day. Krishnaji has a bit of laryngitis, but gave a fine first Brockwood talk  to a large crowd. Afterward, we had salad in our kitchen, and then he went down to the tent for a short while.
August twenty-eighth. ‘Krishnaji gave the second Brockwood talk. His voice was throaty at first but improved as he spoke. There was a huge crowd. Again, after the talk, he had salad upstairs, and then went to the food tent for the hot food.

The next day. ‘I sorted questions for tomorrow. Krishnaji saw Felix Greene in afternoon.’
August thirtieth. ‘Krishnaji held the first question-and-answer meeting. He answered four questions. Krishnaji, Mary C., and I talked to Donald Ingram-Smith about Australia at 4:30 p.m.
The thirty-first of August. ‘Krishnaji and I went to London. Mary and Joe met us. Krishnaji fitted his two thin trousers at Huntsman. I fetched mine from Hilliard’s. Mary lunched with us at Fortnum’s. Krishnaji and I bought cheese, a new one, Lymeswold, and went to Hatchards for books. We caught a taxi to Waterloo and reached Petersfield by 5 p.m. Robert de Pomereaux came at 6:30 p.m. for Krishnaji’s treatment.’
September first. ‘Krishnaji held the second question-and-answer meeting. Too many young people spoke up.’ ‘Krishnaji went to bed and had lunch on a tray, but he got up later to treat de Pomereaux and Alfonso Colon.

The third of September. ‘Krishnaji gave  the third talk at 11:30 a.m. Mary and Joe came. Joe had salad with us after the talk, and then Krishnaji went to the tent for hot food. Mark Edwards photographed Krishnaji and David Bohm. ’
September fourth. ‘It rained. Krishnaji gave the fourth Brockwood talk—one of the greatest ever. We had salad upstairs, and then went back to the tent for the rest of the food. Krishnaji was interviewed by Tim McGrath for the Irish Times. Kishbaugh and Stella left, and so did many others as the talks are over.’
The fifth of September. ‘People are leaving. It is a beautiful day. In the evening, Krishnaji and I watched a videocassette movie.’

September seven. ‘Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and I left Brockwood; Krishnaji and I going in one car with Stephen, and Dr. Parchure with Scott in another. Those at Brockwood were out on the driveway to see Krishnaji off. Dorothy looked on the edge of tears. She is disturbed and unhappy. I think I understand, as though I could see into her head, and I want to write her. Rita brought Krishnaji from London his new, thin Huntsman trousers, which they made for him in ten days. A special favor. Krishnaji used a wheelchair, and it whizzed us through the formalities. We flew to Los Angeles on TWA 761 at 11 a.m. What is ahead in California? We go there forcibly because of Rajagopal’s demand that our depositions be taken in his lawsuit against us by October first. I feel waves of wanting to protect Krishnaji, wanting him to smile, to be well, able as he was on Sunday in the tent at Brockwood to soar in his words, opening the heavens.’ ‘He has just come by where I am sitting in this airplane, moving with a spring; stopping intensely, and asking, “You are alright?” Krishnaji, who wanted to give me his forward seat, is pleased because the one I have is the next best: a single seat, in the middle, three rows back, an aisle on either side of it. To have space from one’s fellows is the luxury.’ Passing over Greenland, there’s a place he recognized from previous trips that is on the right. How anyone could…over the expanse of Greenland…But he would not only recognize this place, but he could tell it was just ahead—he would say, “We’re coming to it.” I don’t know. We are moving toward who knows what in California, but this is all that fills life for me. He is there. Later we reached Los Angeles at 2 p.m. Again, a wheelchair made it less tiring. Mark Lee and Michael Krohnen were there with a school van, and we drove in the van to Ojai. The garden and house are beautiful. Dennis had opened the house.’ Dennis Gottschalk was doing wonderful cleaning in those days. ‘Dr. Parchure has never been in the U.S. before. He is over at Arya Vihara. Krishnaji is pleased to be here. In spite of the reason for this trip, I am, too.’
September eighth. ‘It is a marvelous morning. Krishnaji and I walked about the garden looking at every flourishing plant; everything looking beautiful.
The ninth. Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and I went over to the Oak Grove School, and saw the upper school buildings going up. They are quite large.
September tenth. ‘I woke up early, and so did Krishnaji, but he is getting adjusted to the time change and said he had a good meditation.

September thirteenth, ‘I went in the morning with Erna and Theo to our lawyer Cohen’s office, where Erna’s deposition was taken by Rajagopal’s lawyer, Avsham. Annie Vigeveno and Austin Bee were present. Another of our lawyers, Stuart Comis, was with us. We broke for lunch, which we had in a coffee shop. Erna resumed her deposition by Avsham, but he called it off after an hour, reserving the right to have a court hearing later on whether Erna must answer certain questions. I came back and reported everything to Krishnaji.’
September fourteenth: ‘There was an early walk with Krishnaji, Erna, and Dr. Parchure to McNell Road and back. Erna and I continued around the block. There was a meeting at 10 a.m. at Zelma Wilson’s office about a study center.’ She was an architect.
The fifteenth of September: ‘Erna and I had an early walk. At 11 a.m. in the gray car,
September sixteenth: ‘The early walk was with Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, Erna, and me. She and I went around the block, but Krishnaji and Parchure only to McNell and back. At 10 a.m., there was a tea at the Oak Grove School for the staff. We lunched at Arya Vihara, and slept in the afternoon. It is still hot weather.’

September twentieth. ‘At 8 a.m., Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and I went to Mr. Cohen’s office in Oxnard. We talked to him from 9 a.m. for an hour,  and then Mr. Avsham, Rajagopal’s lawyer, began the taking of Krishnaji’s deposition. Mima Porter, Annie Vigeveno, and Austin Bee were present. We stopped at noon for lunch, which we had in the office, then resumed the deposition at 1:10 p.m. and continued till 2:30 p.m. when Krishnaji was tired, and it was ended for the day.’
September twenty-first. ‘Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and I went to Cohen’s office for a 10 o’clock continuation of Krishnaji’s deposition by Avsham. Vigeveno and Bee were present. We had a sandwich lunch between 1 p.m. and 2 p.m., and continued afterward until 4 p.m. Dorothy rang in the morning from Brockwood, and Pupul from Delhi.’
The next day. ‘Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and I were at Cohen’s office for a 10 a.m.  continuation of Krishnaji’s deposition. Porter, Vigeveno, and Bee were present. Krishnaji met nastiness head-on and dealt with it very well. Questions ended suddenly at 11:20 a.m., and we were out of there. We came back and had our sandwich lunches at the Lilliefelts’.’
September twenty-third. ‘I went with Erna and Theo to Cohen’s office for my deposition. Stuart Comis was with me, though Cohen came in briefly. I testified till noon when Avsham broke it off for his own schedule elsewhere. We came back to lunch at Arya Vihara. My deposition is to continue Monday.’

September twenty-sixth, ‘I went with Erna and Theo to Cohen’s office. My deposition continued from 9:30 a.m. until about 10:45 a.m., when Avsham had no more questions. Vigeveno and Bee were there. I came back to lunch at Arya Vihara, then did errands in the village in the afternoon. Philippa called from Connecticut.’
The twenty-seventh: ‘Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and I left at 7 a.m. for Lailee’s office, where Krishnaji had a fasting blood sugar test, 117. Then we breakfasted at Lindberg’s.’ That was the health food place. He liked going there. ‘We returned at 11 a.m. for an exam by Lailee, and the postprandial blood sugar test. On the way back, we stopped in Malibu at Winky’s new bookshop’—she’d moved from her previous location in Westwood—‘for some thrillers; then drove on to Sycamore Park where we ate our picnic lunch quite late. ‘Krishnaji had driven the green car on the way down very happily. “I didn’t think I could anymore, that I would be too old,” he said.’ ‘We got back at 5 p.m. Took a bit of a nap, as we were both tired.’
September twenty-eighth: ‘I went on the early walk, but spent most of the day being quiet. In the afternoon, Krishnaji and I walked in light rain to the dip and back. Doctors think he must exercise each day.’

The first of October. ‘Ojai had three-and-a-half inches of rain, but it cleared today.’ That’s remarkable for September, it doesn’t usually rain. ‘Krishnaji dictated letters, and I typed them. I walked down McAndrew Road with Krishnaji at 5 p.m.’
There’s nothing much the next day, but on October third, ‘I went on the early walk with Erna, and Krishnaji began his jumping exercises in the morning. It was a warm day. After lunch, Krishnaji and I went to foot treatments by Dr. Hara in Santa Paula, stopping on the way to pick up Mar de Manziarly, who is living with her sister Yo. We dropped her off on the way back. Krishnaji walked down McAndrew with Dr. Parchure, and ate very well for supper. He says the exercise is doing him good.’
The next day, ‘I went for the early walk with Erna. It was a hot day, and I spent most of it working at my desk. In the afternoon, Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and I, with Alan Hooker, went to look at the former Zalk house, which is now being offered for sale. It is a mess, and not suitable for a study center.’ It’s above the Oak Grove, up on that ridge.
Then there’s nothing until October sixth. ‘I went on the early walk with Erna, and made picnic lunches when I got back. At 10 a.m., Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and I left for Beverly Hills. They bought books, walked, and ate their picnics in the car while I had my hair cut. Then we went to the UCLA Medical Center, where Dr. Paul Ward examined Krishnaji’s larynx. There’s nothing wrong, he said, but there is the normal diminishment of the vocal cords by age and usage, common in opera singers.’ ‘We were out of there by 4 p.m., and drove back along the beach.’

October eighth, ‘At 5 p.m., Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, Theo, Erna, and I met Evelyne and we all went to Burbank.’ We must have had at least two cars. ‘On a side street, we ate a picnic dinner, then went to the NBC studio where, at 8 p.m., a fifty-two minute interview of Krishnaji was done by Keith Berwick for broadcast. Krishnaji was splendid. We got back to Ojai by 11 p.m. Patricia Hunt-Perry says Krishnaji is invited to speak at the UN on April seventeenth.’
October ninth. ‘I spent most of the day working at my desk and doing house things. Krishnaji slept poorly last night because last night’s upset in the house put him off, but he slept most of morning.’
The tenth of October: ‘Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and I left at six on TWA 760 for London. Krishnaji and I had the good seats, one and nine in first class, and were able to sleep a bit. Krishnaji was quite exhausted when we got on board, but the flight was less tiring than at other times.’
The eleventh: ‘We landed at Heathrow just before noon. Rita Zampese met us, and Krishnaji had a wheelchair, so we went quickly through everything. Hugues van der Straten, Mary Cadogan, and Ingrid were there, and Dorothy was waiting in the Saab. Krishnaji and I drove with her to Brockwood. Mary Cadogan and Hugues came in his car, and Ingrid brought Dr. Parchure. We all arrived in time for lunch. We talked after lunch with Hugues and Mary C., and to Mary L. by phone. I had a short nap, and then walked with Krishnaji and Scott.’

October fifteenth: ‘There was wind and rain much of the day. Krishnaji spoke to the Brockwood staff at 11:45 a.m. Jane and Ian Hammond came to lunch, and it was decided to wall up the West Wing, instead of putting doors to separate the West Wing hall from the blue room area, which becomes part of the school library. After coffee in Dorothy’s office, others left, and I had a long talk with her about her present situation, and later she walked with Krishnaji and me around the lanes. It’s the first time she’s been on the walk with Krishnaji and me since her heart attack. In the evening, Krishnaji spoke of what he saw he can do with the staff discussions when they still hold to opinions.’
The sixteenth. ‘Krishnaji didn’t sleep well. At 11:45 a.m., Krishnaji spoke to the school and guests. The Bohms were there, and David spoke with Krishnaji after lunch. Mr. Grohe and his son from Switzerland sat with Krishnaji at lunch and discussed with him and Gisèle Balleys their interest in a Swiss school.
Monday, the seventeenth: ‘It is a clear day. Krishnaji slept well on half a tablet of Compoz. He rested all morning. Mr. Grohe left after donating 50,000 Swiss francs to Brockwood. Tungki gave 8,000 pounds sterling.’ I took the car out to encourage the battery. At 3 p.m., (Krishnaji spoke as 'world teacher' not only personal: do nothing unnecessary. If anything happened to you, it would be a blow physically and psychically.’

 October eighteenth. ‘Krishnaji slept moderately well, but was tired. He spoke to the staff at 11:45 a.m. I talked to somebody about future insurance at 10 a.m. At 11 a.m., Ms. Adrian Spanier’—she was the decorator woman who got me things—‘came with samples for curtains, etcetera. Krishnaji liked, for his bedroom, the red and white version of fabric I have in my bedroom in Ojai. Ms. Spanier stayed for lunch.’ They’re still there, the red and white curtains. ‘Krishnaji was tired and went only for a short walk. Dorothy and I went further.’
Wednesday the nineteenth. ‘Krishnaji took half a Compoz pill at 11:30 p.m. last night, and slept until 6:30 a.m. but looked very tired. He has looked this way the last three days, increasingly. I met Mary Cadogan at the 10:30 a.m. Petersfield train. We talked at some length about the situation here at Brockwood, and she talked with Dr. Parchure before lunch. After lunch, Krishnaji spoke with her and me in the little blue room about events in California, what has happened here, and some of his plans and problems in India. He reached out in his imagination to what he wants at Brockwood: the place is 'in a rut'. Now it must grow, change, move, be alive. It is the only center in Europe, and must draw people. His ideas were vivid, but his manner of speech was slow and almost difficult, as though it were an effort.’
‘He slept for an hour, and then came to tell me that we must go for a walk. I called Dorothy, and we started off down the drive along the lane to West Meon, but Krishnaji then said he had pulled a muscle when he walked fast Saturday, and it was hurting him, so he turned back. It must’ve been hurting him yesterday when he also turned back, but he didn’t tell me or Dr. Parchure about the pain. His face these past days has looked gaunt. His posture is round-shouldered, older, and unlike his usual, almost boy’s vitality. It turns a knife in me.’
‘I talked to Parchure in the evening. He gave Krishnaji a vitamin B12 shot last night, but it and sleep have not given him strength. I said Krishnaji must rest, not speak for the remaining week here before India. Parchure has given up on trying to persuade him to rest, but I said we should try again together. Did Krishnaji know what was making him so tired? Krishnaji thought and said it was Rajagopal’s attack, which he was feeling now. “It wasn’t the trip. I slept on the plane. I liked being in Ojai, I felt well there.” Also, he very reluctantly agreed not to go to London on Monday as we had planned to lunch with Mary and Joe, and to have his hair cut. When the other two left, Krishnaji said he felt better already because he had talked about it. I put a hot pad on his leg. “I’ll be all right tomorrow, you’ll see, ” he said.’
October twentieth. ‘Krishnaji slept well without pills. “Like a log,” he said, until 7:15 a.m. He looks much better. He said wistfully, “Couldn’t I go to London Monday?” He wants to see the fitting of Maxwell shoes he had urged me to order in June, but he took it with equanimity when I pointed out the waste of his precious energy, and so, Mary L. will come down here on Monday. He spoke for one and three-quarter hours to the students, but will omit further talks until he leaves for India. He came out of this talk with the students looking fresh, and we lunched. He rested all afternoon. No walk. I went to the staff meeting. After supper, we watched a TV program about tigers, gorillas, and other wild animals kept by a man named Aspinall here in Britain. Before going to sleep, Krishnaji said to me, “They are immature here. This place must become something marvelous. You must be careful. Look after yourself. Do you understand? I might die, and you must see that this place is marvelous. You must live as if I were already dead. Do you understand what I’m telling you? When I leave Ojai, it is out of my mind. The house, the roses, Rajagopal, and all that, and when I leave here, it will be out of my mind, and when I leave India, that too.” I asked him, “Are you telling me something more?” Krishnaji replied, “No, I’m not going to die. I will live a long time more, I hope. But you must understand how to live.”’

October twenty-first. ‘Krishnaji slept well. I took the 9:46 a.m. to London. Joe kindly met me in Waterloo and drove me to Peter Jones, where I shopped for Viyella for Krishnaji to have made into shirts in India. He says he needs to wear warmer things. I walked to the General Trading Company for tableware he wants for Vasanta Vihar, and then I went on to Harrods, where I got him warm gloves, etcetera. Also, he wants some things from Floris for Vatsala’—that’s Parchure’s wife. Krishnaji had rested in bed all day and looked well. Dr. Parchure has taken his blood sugar levels. Fasting 105. Postprandial 130. Blood pressure was 108 over 80.’
The twenty-second. ‘Krishnaji remained in bed all day. He dictated a piece on the future of Brockwood, what it must become. More than a school, a place where people seriously interested in the teachings can come to study. A place for the awakening of intelligence without a leader for, “The teachings themselves are the expression of truth which serious people must find for themselves.” Hugues van der Straten and his daughter, Fabienne, arrived, and Krishnaji spoke to her in the morning, and again in the afternoon.

October twenty-third. Krishnaji got up for lunch and talked a lot with Dorothy at the table. The Bohms were there. Hugues and Fabienne left. I barely had time to lie down before Krishnaji came in to say we should go for a walk. Summertime ended this morning. The clocks are turned back, and it was darkening as we walked around the lanes. Krishnaji’s pulled muscle is healed, and he walked well, firmly, and without apparent fatigue. The air was bracing. I told him of the conversations with Hugues and Mary Cadogan. We need to build up money reserves for the future of Brockwood. He spoke of doing more tapes as they bring income, and we will try to build a reserve financially. “We mustn’t buy any more houses,” he said. But, when we passed the Dell cottages, he said we must get the two we don’t own when they become available. He said India has enough property and funds, and when we someday sell Saanen, the proceeds shouldn’t be divided three ways with India. His will divides anything he owns between KFA, KFT, and KFI. But, he said he might change that. I must give half to KFT and half to KFA. He earlier spoke of my responsibility to Brockwood. I must act as if he were gone. But he repeated he would live another ten years. He was again beautiful and strong on the walk. My heart beats in response to his. He said to me, “there is no separation between us. I care deeply for you. I’m closer to you than I’ve ever been to anyone, do you understand? You must never feel isolated; that would be terrible. You must be strong here; you must help them here—not the details. You sometimes start with details. It is the whole. You must see to it here and at Ojai, if I die now or in ten years, you must take charge, with others. Something else is looking after me. My health is all right. When you write, be careful. No one knows who opens letters.’ This is all going-to-India advice. ‘I talked at length after supper with Dorothy about Brockwood’s future, the study center, etcetera.’ Krishnaji dictated a subject for exploration in the possible brain seminar in June which Juan Hancke is suggesting.

October twenty-seventh. ‘Krishnaji came and woke me up 4:30 a.m. Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I left at 7:30 in the Mercedes It was very foggy, but we reached Heathrow before 9 a.m. Rita Zampese met us there, and was able to accompany Krishnaji and Dr. Parchure right onto the British Air airplane. Krishnaji and Dr. Parchure flew at 10:15 a.m. to Delhi. Dorothy and I drove back to Brockwood. Krishnaji is due in Delhi tonight, British time, but 4:20 a.m. in India. He stays with Pupul in Delhi.’
 On October thirty-first, ‘Krishnaji telephoned me from Delhi, but I was in London. He called back on the next day, November first. He says he is well, and asked me to send the file of letters about India of the last months. I spoke briefly to Pupul, and posted the file in the afternoon.’

 February fifteenth 1984 ‘Krishnaji arrived from Bombay at Heathrow at 9:10 a.m. Rita Zampese, who had met him in Bombay, accompanied him. Dorothy and I met him as well as Ingrid and Mary Cadogan He looks wonderfully well. When we got back to Brockwood, Krishnaji looked at all the fire reconstruction in the West Wing, then lunched with the school. After a talk about India, he took a nap. Mary C. and Dorothy met with Mr. Grohe, who is here for several days. ‘Krishnaji slept well and so did I.’
The sixteenth: ‘At 9:30 a.m., Krishnaji talked about a possible study center, which he would like to call something different. Then at 11 a.m. Mr. Grohe joined in.
February seventeenth. ‘Krishnaji talked to Dorothy and then Anneke in the morning, while I settled the insurance matters. The BBC’s Terry Anderson spoke with Krishnaji at lunch about doing a program on Brockwood, including an interview with Krishnaji for both the BBC television and radio. It’s too short for Krishnaji. The walk with Krishnaji included Mr. Grohe, Dorothy, and me. Krishnaji put his hands (also yesterday) on Peter Jenkins’s little boy, Richard, age 7, who has cancer.

The next day, ‘Krishnaji spoke to the school at 11 a.m. Mary and Joe came to lunch. The estimate for the cost of the proposed study center was prohibitively high. Krishnaji felt it was too expensive. We need to build up endowment funds, not spend on buildings. Krishnaji walked with Mr. Grohe, Dorothy, and me. February twenty-first: ‘Again, Dorothy drove Krishnaji and me to Heathrow, where we took the 10 a.m. British Air flight to Los Angeles. Mark and David met us. The wheelchair got us quickly through the formalities. The Bohms, who were on the same flight, went with Mark, while Krishnaji and I went with David, and we arrived at Ojai at 4 p.m. We are both tired. I have a cold. I spoke to Amanda.
The twenty-second: ‘We both slept a lot. Erna and Theo came in the morning. Krishnaji had lunch in bed, slept all afternoon, and had to be awakened for supper. Then he slept till 2 a.m., but he was awake from then on.’
February twenty-third: ‘Krishnaji got up to lunch at Arya Vihara. Merali arrived, and I talked to him after lunch about selling his property in San Diego for payment of the promised matching fund, now almost two years late. He is not going to make up the interest KFA has lost because of delay.’

The next day, ‘Krishnaji saw David Bohm at 10 a.m., after which we lunched at Arya Vihara and talked at table till almost 4 p.m. The table conversation was on 'perception', and it was taped. Krishnaji slept till supper time.’
February twenty-fifth. ‘Krishnaji slept well. He saw Dave again at 10 a.m., and we taped another conversation at lunch, this time about 'honesty'.’ ‘Krishnaji talked to Merali after lunch. In the late afternoon, Krishnaji and I walked down McAndrew Road.’
The next day, ‘Krishnaji again saw Dave at 10 a.m., and there was another taped discussion over lunch at Arya Vihara, this time on “The Ebb and Flow of Life.” A letter came from Madame Matti saying that Chalet Tannegg had been sold, so we cannot rent it for the following summer. I telephoned Vanda in Florence with the news. Krishnaji was quite tired in the late afternoon and evening.’
The next several days are really the same. This was the period when David Bohm was having great difficulties, so Krishnaji saw him every morning, and then there was a recorded discussion over lunch. Krishnaji would also occasionally see Saral.
The third of March: ‘At 10 a.m., I went with Erna and Theo to a meeting at the school of staff, parents, school board, and trustees. There was another uproar.’ ‘After lunch at Arya Vihara, the Lilliefelts, Kishbaugh, Krishnaji, and I talked about it all.’
March fourth: ‘The Bohms left for Claremont. At 11 a.m., Krishnaji held a discussion at the school with the parents and everyone. After lunch at Arya Vihara, Krishnaji, John Hidley, Tom Krause, Erna, Theo, and I talked. They then called in Mark Lee and David Moody. The school committee is to be abolished. Two parents and two staff advisors will be added to the school board, and Mark and David must work as a team, as co-directors. We talked until 5:30 p.m., when Krishnaji and I went for a short walk. Krishnaji is tired but feels something was accomplished.’
Again, there isn’t much except that Krishnaji kept seeing Mark and David about the school troubles, and he also saw some teachers who wanted to talk about the school. On March tenth, there was a trustee meeting that lasted all day, obviously about the school troubles.
On the eleventh of March: ‘At 11 a.m., the school board and trustees met here with Krishnaji. After lunch, trustees met again to consider the school board appointments. John Hidley was invited. There was a long talk by Krishnaji about 'right action', at the end of which it was finally agreed on what to do. It was exhausting.’
Again, there is nothing significant until March thirteenth when Dorothy rang. She had received a long letter of complaint sent two weeks ago by the Oak Grove parents and staff, and which was addressed to the Krishnamurti Foundation of America.’
On March fifteenth, ‘Krishnaji talked alone with teaching staff,’ and the next day, ‘Krishnaji talked to Mark Lee.’

March nineteenth. ‘Krishnaji and I took a picnic lunch and ate it with Amanda and Phil on their terrace. Then Krishnaji, I, and Alan Kishbaugh took British Air 2:05 flight to Albuquerque. We hired an Avis car and drove to the Los Alamos Inn, where Dr. Raju and Mrs. Phyllis Barnes received Krishnaji and showed us to our rooms. Dr. Raju brought hot food, which Krishnaji ate in bed. Alan and I ate in the restaurant.’
The next day, ‘Dr. Raju and Mrs. Phyllis Barnes came for us in a van and drove us to the auditorium of the Los Alamos National Laboratory, where Krishnaji spoke to an overflowing crowd of 700 scientists from 8:10 a.m. to 9 a.m. Then, he answered questions for thirty-five minutes. We returned to the Inn, where Krishnaji had breakfast in his room. Dr. Raju had brought food. At noon, we went with Mr. Raju to lunch in a restaurant with ten scientists. After that, we bought an electric razor as Krishnaji’s had malfunctioned. Then Krishnaji slept. At 4:30 p.m., we drove to Bandelier Park, walked up the canyon, and saw the cliff caves. Krishnaji had supper in bed. Alan and I ate in the dining room.’
March twenty-first: ‘Dr. Raju brought idlis for Krishnaji’s breakfast at 7:30 a.m. At 8:45 a.m., we went to the discussion hall, where about sixty scientists presented fifteen typed questions to Krishnaji. He read them and chose the first, “What is meditation, what is creativity?” and answered it for over an hour with supreme eloquence. He then took the last one on what he would direct if he were director of the laboratory.’ ‘He had almost tears in his voice at the end and I wept. A young man, Kurt Beacheart, who wrote an interesting letter, was there, and I introduced him to Krishnaji. Dr. and Mrs. Raju gave a lunch for Krishnaji at their house. Then we left Los Alamos. Alan showed us an interesting Pueblo reservation. We walked around Santa Fe, and then from Albuquerque we flew back to Los Angeles. The Moodys met us and drove us back to Ojai, arriving at 9:30 p.m.’
Krishnaji rested on the next couple of days, but there continue to be difficult meetings between parents, teachers, the school board, and Mark and David, which resulted in changes to the school board and to the trustees.

On March twenty-seventh, Krishnaji resumed doing his dictations on his portable Sony recorder.

On the thirty-first, ‘At 3:30 p.m., Senator Claiborne Pell and Carole Taylor came to see Krishnaji. The senator’s initial question was, “Does individual consciousness survive death?”’ I don’t seem to have Krishnaji’s answer to this. ‘I had tea for them at 5 p.m. and they left later. Asit had supper with us.’ I don’t know what Krishnaji said to them. I don’t think it was very…
April first: ‘Asit showed us the dummy of his book of photos of Krishnaji, A Thousand Moons. He showed them later to Erna and Theo. I had a talk with Terry Doyle on his being part of the Oak Grove School. The newly appointed school board came to lunch at Arya Vihara. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji met parents of the Oak Grove School at the Pavilion, which was another waste of his time. We looked at the upper school Max is building and then dined with the Hookers at the Ranch House Restaurant; Evelyne, Asit, Doyle, the Lilliefelts, Krishnaji, and me.’

On the second of April: ‘After breakfast, Krishnaji, Asit, and I discussed on tape Asit’s question,  “What is a worthwhile life?”’
M: The next day, ‘In the morning, Krishnaji, Asit, and I did another taped discussion.’
Then again, there are just the usual Ojai things until April eighth, when Krishnaji held another discussion with the Oak Grove School teaching staff.
April twelve. ‘Yesterday I was up at 4:30 a.m., and at 7 a.m., Krishnaji, Asit (who has been staying with us for a fortnight), and Erna and Theo left Ojai for the Los Angeles airport with David Moody driving us in the school van. The quiet of the house, wrapped in sunlight, flowers, and breathing orange blossoms, was left for ten days. We went by the sea and, not driving, I could watch the waves washing across the sand, breaking on rocks, and saw the dark backs of three whales and their extraordinary plumes of breath. I felt floating in the extraordinary gift of being able to turn and see Krishnaji sitting there, looking immaculate in elegant ease. He was a little far-off, but nodding with his eyes when I turned, knowing what was in my mind.’ I always felt he could read my mind.

‘Here we go off again to airports and places and talks and he looked younger than when I first went with him almost twenty years ago. We all five went on American Airlines flight number 4 at 10 a.m. This time Krishnaji and I had first-row seats up in the top section of the 747, and we liked it because it was all nonsmoking and we had space in front of the seats. The food wasn’t good, but no matter. We arrived at 6 p.m., and went by taxi to the Hotel Dorset, as Bud’s car is being fixed. There we have the same suite, number 1507, as last year. Asit is downstairs, and the Lilliefelts are at the Wyndham, a hotel nearby. Asit had supper with us in our sitting room, and then he and I put through a telephone call for Krishnaji to Mrs. Gandhi in New Delhi. This was requested by Pupul who sent word via Asit that Mrs. Gandhi’s son, Rajiv, had been threatened by the rebelling Sikhs in the Punjab; he was to be killed this Friday the thirteenth. Pupul’s thought is that if her friend knows the son is in Krishnaji’s consciousness, it will comfort her anxiety. So Krishnaji agreed, and with a private number we finally got through and Krishnaji spoke briefly. He couldn’t hear her very well, but she evidently heard him. He was not too tired from the flight, and we went to bed right after supper.’
‘Today we had a quiet morning. Bud came by. Lisa is in bed with a cold. It was lovely to see him. He, Krishnaji, Asit, and I went to Il Nido at 1 p.m., the Italian restaurant that Krishnaji likes, where I gave lunch to the four of us, plus David Shainberg and Cathryn de Segonzac. Festive it was. Krishnaji liked the 'porcini' mushrooms and small spinach ravioli with two kinds of spaghettini.’ ‘Afterward, he had fresh raspberries, and he liked the San Pellegrino sparkling water while the rest of us had white wine.’ ‘There was much laughter, with Krishnaji taking off in the high infectious laugh he has in him when something strikes him as very funny. This time it was my remembering the old Whitney Darrow cartoon in the New Yorker about the fat, middle-aged woman being carried off into the jungle by a gorilla with her friends looking on, and one saying, “I never could see what he sees in her.”’ ‘Today was sunny and warm in New York, and we walked back to the hotel. Krishnaji stepped out into the traffic of Third Avenue as though it was a country lane.’ He used to terrorize me by doing that. He did it crossing Piccadilly. Traffic was pouring down, and he wanted to cross to Fortnum’s. I had to grab him. It was the first time that happened, and I realized that part of my responsibility—which we’ve described—was seeing that he wasn’t killed in traffic. Because he would just walk across. He once went from Huntsman—instead of waiting for me at Huntsman—he went to Fortnum’s, walking across Piccadilly traffic and all that, and then he realized that I was supposed to meet him back at Huntsman, so he did the same thing in reverse and came back to Huntsman. When I found out what he’d done, my blood froze. Anyway, ‘At 4 p.m., he gave an interview to three people from the magazine Parabola; a dominant, gray-haired woman with a lemoned expression seemed to be the leader. It was not a very perceptive group.’ ‘At 5 p.m., he and I went out for a walk and errands; orange skin cream was at last found in Elizabeth Arden, yogurt, lecithin, etcetera, on 57th Street, a le Carré thriller at Doubleday, and some shepherd’s lotion at a chemist’s. We had supper in the rooms.’
April thirteenth. ‘Pupul arrived from Washington and came to see Krishnaji after breakfast. She is in this country for the Festival of India, which will take place in 1985 and which will involve various museums, including the Cooper Hewitt.’ That’s the one that Lisa was the head of. ‘She had talked with Mrs. Gandhi, who thanked her copiously for asking Krishnaji to telephone. Later Krishnaji, Pupul, Asit, and I went to lunch with David Shainberg and Cathryn de Segonzac at Il Nido. It was a late lunch. Asit took pictures of Krishnaji with my Minolta. Another documenting of Krishnaji’s life, which Asit is doing. We again ate very well at Il Nido, and Krishnaji tasted a small bit of 'zabaglione', which he liked, but which his sugarless diet precludes. He wants to do a discussion on Monday with those at lunch on what prevents people who have begun to see what he’s talking about, but do not follow through in arduous self-awareness. Jimmy Granger was in the restaurant, recognized me, and stopped to greet me.’ Jimmy Granger is Stewart Granger, the actor, who was a good friend of Sam’s and mine. I hadn’t seen him in a long time. ‘Krishnaji was pleased at this because he said it showed I hadn’t changed in appearance in the many years since Jimmy had last seen me.’ ‘At 4 p.m., all of us, minus Pupul, went to the movie Greystoke: The Legend of Tarzan, which Krishnaji liked. It was well done, and had in it Ralph Richardson’s last performance. We came back to the hotel and had supper in our rooms. Because of something Krishnaji had said, I asked him, “What do you mean by a first-class mind?” “One that is free of conditioning, that inquires,” he replied.’
The fourteenth, April. ‘Krishnaji had slept well. Asit came up at 10:30 a.m., and, in a hired car, we went to Felt Forum for Krishnaji’s 11 a.m. first New York talk. The hall was about two-thirds full. Krishnaji spoke for an hour and twenty-five minutes, and put very much into it. We lunched quietly and alone at Il Nido. “Very good food,” said Krishnaji. It was raining faintly when we walked back to the hotel. Hugues van der Straten rang that they were leaving and couldn’t come by, which was just as well as Krishnaji slept until 5 p.m. when Pupul arrived and soon Asit, too. Her book on Krishnaji is running 600 pages. The first draft is almost done. She asked Krishnaji what she called “an impossible question”: What should be done in the Punjab where Sikhs are demanding a separate nation, including the territory in adjoining states? This is a dilemma facing Mrs. Gandhi. Pupul wanted Krishnaji “to put it in his consciousness.” He said it was a question that must be answered. Asit showed Pupul the dummy of his book of photos of Krishnaji. She liked it, but wants to help him choose other photos. Watching them, Asit looks almost exactly like Pupul.’ ‘We had a discussion of what Krishnaji means by “mutation of mind.” Science says mutation means a change that is carried by inheritance to the next generation. Does he mean that, or does he mean a change in consciousness that affects the total human species not necessarily via genetic change? Krishnaji has said not the latter when this point was raised at Brockwood last fall. Now he seems to go further, and wants to go into it. Pupul and Asit went off to a movie. Krishnaji and I had supper and went to bed.’

The fifteenth. ‘There was lightning and thunder in the night. Krishnaji, at breakfast, saw a flute player on TV. His face lit up and he said, “I wish I had continued playing the flute. I was good at it. But all of those things were "wiped out" so I could do this.”’ By which he meant to talk. ‘“And that was right.” I asked him, “Did you decide that or did Mrs. Besant point it out?” Krishnaji replied, “They probably said something, but I think I decided it.” He mentioned the length of Pupul’s book and said, “You should write about all this.” Asit came with us in the car to Felt Forum again. The crowd was bigger. Krishnaji plunged right into an intense, marvelous talk, his voice charged with energy. Sparks seemed to fly. He was at his most powerful and vital. We went afterward straight to Shainberg’s apartment, where there was another of those crowded buffet lunches. Pupul and Asit were there. Renée Weber, whom I began to introduce as Patricia Hunt-Perry by mistake.’ ‘ ‘Patricia came soon after and handed out the UN invitations for those on our list. Krishnaji and I were dropped back at the hotel by Pupul and Asit, who went off to a cinema. At 3:30 p.m., Philippa and David came to see me. They had been at the talk. A John White, author and friend of Patricia Hunt-Perry, who is doing a book on "enlightenment", saw Krishnaji from 4:30 p.m. until almost 6 p.m. “He asked a lot of questions,” said Krishnaji.’ I wonder what happened to that. I’ve never heard of the book. ‘We had a quiet supper in our sitting room after everyone left. In spite of this activity, Krishnaji’s energies remain high.’
The sixteenth. ‘It was supposed to be a day of rest, and that is what Krishnaji did all morning. I went out in the rain to get our boarding passes on American Airlines on Friday and some health foods, and I made a table reservation at a Chinese restaurant, Mr. Chow, on East 57th Street. Asit came with us to the restaurant. It turned out to be airy, quiet, and rather elegant. There was not a Chinese face in the place, but the food was Chinese, and delicious. They were nonplussed at vegetarians and brought a succession of nine different dishes, all very good. Krishnaji was pleased. So was I, until we started up 57th Street and my stomach began to ache. But I kept walking to 65th and Madison, where there was a Coach store, and Krishnaji carefully chose two brown belts, which he has wanted. We came back to the hotel where at 4:30 p.m., there was a Krishnaji, Pupul, Asit, David Shainberg, and me discussion on why people come to a block after years of studying the teachings. Pupul left, and we went on into what is the most basic fear, death, or what? We didn’t resolve it. Krishnaji and I had supper in the sitting room.’

The seventeenth of April. ‘Asit came with Krishnaji, me, and Patricia Hunt-Perry to the UN, where Narasimhan received Krishnaji at the entrance, and escorted him to the Dag Hammarskjold Auditorium where, at 1:15 p.m., Krishnaji spoke to delegates and personnel of the UN. The invitation to speak was from Dr. Muller for the Pacem in Terris organization within the UN, and Krishnaji was asked to speak on peace. Dr. Muller had asked Narasimhan, who had come from Houston where he is lecturing, to preside in his absence. And this is what was done, though at the last minute, Muller’s trip was postponed and he was there. It was a small auditorium, perhaps two hundred seats. Bud came, Pupul, Shainberg, etcetera, with special invitations since it was not open to the public. Krishnaji sat behind a table on the stage and after a rather bureaucratic introduction by Narasimhan, he began to talk in a relaxed, utterly clear way about peace coming about only through a change of consciousness in each human being; and the impossibility of peace among people divided by nationalities, politics, religions, or ideology, and it not coming externally through organizations. Many heads were nodding in agreement, but who knows what it meant to them. “They have probably forgotten it already,” said Krishnaji later. He said, when I asked him, that he didn’t know what he was going to say until he began. “It is better that way.” Some questions were asked at the end, and Krishnaji invited an elderly man to come up and sit with him on the stage. It turned out to be a newspaperman who had been reporting on the UN for years. They sat back and talked for a bit in a relaxed way. Pupul’s car had diplomatic plates, and the one from Bud’s garage didn’t so it couldn’t enter, so she dropped us back at the hotel. It was, by then, 3:30 p.m., too late for a restaurant and Krishnaji didn’t want room service. “Let’s go out,” he said. So we walked over to the St. Regis Hotel, but Krishnaji didn’t like it, so we walked on. Finally, in Radio City, we went into something new for Krishnaji, a coffee shop. “I don’t know where I am,” he said.’ ‘I felt like a shepherd. On the way back, I suggested we get the handbag we have long talked about for Erna, and went in, not to Gucci, but to Mark Cross, where we found a nice black one. A present from Krishnaji to her. Then to the refuge of the hotel and later supper in the rooms.’
April eighteenth. ‘Krishnaji, Asit, and I went to an 11 a.m. seminar organized by David Shainberg and held at the B’nai B’rith building near the UN, where security demanded identification to get in. There were about fifty people. Somehow these Shainberg seminars go in too many directions to be good; too many opinions are voiced. Pupul wasn’t feeling well and left, and Asit had an appointment of his own; so Erna, Theo, Krishnaji, and I wound up pleasantly talking, and Krishnaji had Erna open her present, the bag we bought yesterday. We went back to the hotel for a 4 p.m. interview of Krishnaji by Douglas Aaronson of New Age Book Review. He had been at the seminar in the morning. At the same time, another of Bud’s daughters, Toodie, came in from East Hampton to see me. Later, Krishnaji and I had supper in the rooms. Asit, who rented a dinner jacket, went with Pupul last night to a dinner party and met Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. He talked to her about Krishnaji, and she said she would like to meet him. Krishnaji agreed to invite her tomorrow.’

April nineteenth. ‘Pupul came by with her Indian government car and took Krishnaji, Asit, and me to the second session of the Shainberg seminar. Asit is in a whirl as publisher Abrams wants to publish his book of photos of Krishnaji. Asit is still using my Minolta here in New York, but had just bought a Nikon AF camera, which is so simple that I will get one as a backup. He took pictures during the seminar, which went better today as Krishnaji took charge of the discussion and kept one subject in focus. Senator Claiborne Pell and a Ms. Carole Taylor were there. All these people seem like not very bright high-schoolers alongside Krishnaji. He brought it all to a halt a little before 1 p.m. so that we could get to Bud’s for lunch. Pupul dropped us at Bud’s apartment. Lisa couldn’t be there, but Bud, Daisy, and Laurie were, and Khen’—that’s Bud’s cook—‘gave what Krishnaji said was the best food he’d had in New York. “Simple and clean.” Wild rice, string beans, salad, cheeses, and papaya. Daisy took some photos of Krishnaji. We then went to the Metropolitan Museum, where Krishnaji wanted to see the Egyptian Temple of Dendur.’ It’s a very little temple, and they had the whole thing on exhibit. ‘“You must walk around it from left to right,” said Krishnaji, so we did. “This is what we did with the mother prostrating before the entrance,” said Krishnaji. “Seven times around, and three times a day.” Does he remember this, or was he told this? I forgot to ask. There were too many people at the exhibit for Krishnaji. He would have liked to see it in the empty large hall, but we pressed on with our timing and got back to the hotel by 3:30 p.m., in time for him to have a short rest before the arrival of Asit at 4:15 p.m. with Mrs. Onassis. She wore a long gray coat over a tunic and trousers and boots.’  ‘The large eyes and breathy voice matched all distant remembrances. Krishnaji came in and she was effective. ‘Krishnaji came in and shook hands in his courtly way and then a Mr. Edward Plunkett arrived. She had suggested he be invited in case it was hard to talk to Krishnaji.’ Small talk was about nil, and Krishnaji soon asked, “Do you want to talk seriously?” A breathless, “Yes.” So, he did until almost six o’clock, giving her a tidal wave of Krishnaji basics.’ [Both laugh.] ‘He kept asking, “Do you understand?” “I think so,” she kept saying. Then he put her rather on the spot with questions, “What is thought?” Silence, while he waited and she pondered an answer in front of three strangers.’ ‘She said it had something to do with planning. “Yes,” said Krishnaji, and then “And what else?” I found myself wanting to help her, like a child in school, and also would have liked to leave her alone with Krishnaji, as at times he came rather close to personal things, speaking of sorrow, loneliness, etcetera. But, with Asit there, watching her carefully, and Mr. Plunkett, my leaving would have been pointless. Pupul’s arrival ended the conversation after Krishnaji had invited Mrs. Onassis to visit if she ever comes to India. Asit escorted her downstairs, and then left for his flight to Paris, which he has twice postponed so he could be present when Mrs. Onassis met Krishnaji.’
‘P.S.: When Krishnaji asked her questions, she said, “I think of myself as a very articulate person. But I don’t know what to say.”’

April twentieth, 1984, We left our hotel by taxi and went to the airport, and took a noon flight on American Airlines to Los Angeles, arriving at 2:40 p.m. The Moodys were late meeting us as they were caught in traffic. David finally appeared just as I was renting a car. We drove along the beach to Ojai on a lovely afternoon, and Krishnaji saw Topa Topa “more clearly than ever,” he said.’ Whenever we came back to Ojai, he always waited to see Topa Topa.
The lovely quiet house, the glowing flowers were a joy. Michael had put food for supper in the kitchen. We unpacked. I went to bed after watching Washington Week in Review.’ We always like to look at that.
The twenty-first of April. ‘It was a warm, beautiful day. I did laundry and relaxed, puttering around. Dorothy telephoned from Mudiford’—that’s where she and Doris and Montague used to go on vacation together. ‘She was worried that there had been no answer here when she called last week. She had forgotten the New York talks.’ She didn’t know why we weren’t there. There was a letter from Vanda and one from Gisèle. They have rented a chalet in Schönried for this summer because we can’t go back to Tannegg as it had been sold.
There wasn’t much the next day, but on the twenty-third, ‘It was a hot, beautiful day. Patricia Hunt-Perry arrived for three days, and is staying at Arya Vihara, as is Ravi Ravindra, and a friend of his , Milton Friedman. She had asked that Milton be invited. He is staying in Ojai for a month working on a book. He was a journalist and lately a speechwriter for the Reagan administration, but quit when asked to write the “positive” side of a conservation program. He spoke enthusiastically of Washington as a place for Krishnaji to speak. Krishnaji seems to think it a good idea.’ He’d never spoken in Washington. He’d been in Washington, but he’d never spoken publicly there. ‘Patricia Hunt-Perry came to interview Krishnaji for an article on death. Krishnaji had a nap in the afternoon while I bought a Nikon L35 AF camera.’ I was all the time buying cameras to match Asit’s and following his advice, and Krishnaji was always egging me on—“Oh, you must have one, you must have one. Just like his.” So I’d buy it, and then when I’d try to point it at him and use it, “Not today,” he’d say, “not today.”
. So it went in the future when there were newer, better Nikon, or whatever, and he would say, “You must have it,” I’d say “Well, if you let me photograph you. Otherwise, no.” He didn’t commit himself, but…there is an unusual number of pictures by me of Krishnaji walking ahead of me with his back to me. That was the only chance I had at times. But then, if other professional people were photographing him, like once in Bombay, I’ve got a lot of pictures I took in Bombay because there was a professional who had been called in to do it. So I thought, well, he’s doing it, I’m going to do it, too, at the same time.

April twenty-fourth. ‘I did desk work and laundry. At 4:30 p.m., Krishnaji gave Patricia Hunt-Perry another interview for the article she is writing on death. Erna and Theo returned from the East.’ Oh, they had been in New York with us, of course. ‘Rajagopal has sent Erna a $30,000 donation from K&R for scholarships. There was a letter from Vanda and Gisèle and a picture of Chalet Horner in Schönried where we will stay this summer.’
April twenty-fifth. ‘At lunch there was a discussion about Krishnaji speaking in Washington next year, and Milton Friedman said he would arrange it there.’ He did, too. ‘At 4:30, Krishnaji, Patricia Hunt-Perry, Ravi Ravindra, and I did a taped discussion.’
There is nothing of significance for the next couple of days, but on April twenty-eighth,  ‘Pupul and Mr. Jose, her secretary, arrived by car from Beverly Hills to spend today and tonight. She has been in Los Angeles about the 1985 India Festival. We all lunched at Arya Vihara, and in the afternoon, Krishnaji and Pupul did a taped conversation. I made supper for the three of us. We ate on trays in Krishnaji’s room.’
Again, not much except Pupul leaving for New York, people to lunch, I talked—at length—to Mark about his situation, and Krishnaji saw Frances and Milton Friedman.
May second: ‘In the morning, the Moodys drove Krishnaji and me to the Santa Barbara airport, from where we flew to San Francisco on United. ‘We took a taxi to the Huntington Hotel, where we have the same suite as in past years, number 514 and 512. These are the best hotel rooms we have had anywhere so far.’ So they were. ‘We unpacked, then walked in the wind and rain on Nob Hill. We had supper in our rooms.’

May third. ‘Repeating last year, Krishnaji gave an hour’s radio interview to Michael Toms of New Dimension radio. It is taped and will later be broadcast by satellite and picked up by about fifty nonprofit radio stations around the country who send it out on their networks at whatever time they choose. Mrs. Justine Toms came to the hotel and drove us to their recording station, which is in their house.’ They were both very nice people. ‘The subject asked by Mr. Toms was about conflict, its causes, etc. Krishnaji answered thoroughly, occasionally tapping his palms on the table to emphasize his points.’ That isn’t good for a recording but that’s what he did. ‘I was given a cassette of it, and we were driven back to the Huntington, where we lunched quietly in its Big Four Restaurant. Evelyne came with her daughter Eloise. I asked Krishnaji if he thought it useful for me to question him on tape and he said we should do it. A rest after lunch and then we walked down California Street to Polk Street to buy another book by Paul Theroux, some cheese, and fruit. In the fruit and health food store, young people who work there said, “It is an honor to have you here, sir.”’ ‘And a young woman on the street said, “How do you do, sir? Welcome to San Francisco. It is an honor to have you come to our city.” Krishnaji looked away from the two very large photos of him outside the Masonic hall. He wanted the Theroux book as he has taken a liking to his writing since Asit gave him Theroux’s book about a trip around the coast of Britain, The Kingdom by the Sea. It is critical of the country as it is today and Krishnaji, surprisingly, read it through. He wants me to read it. “We don’t really know what Britain is like. We only see part of it,” he said, which is true of almost all the countries we visit. Coming up the steep Nob Hill, we took turns carrying our packages and felt we’d had enough exercise. We rested, read, and had supper in the rooms.’
‘A few days ago, in Ojai, Krishnaji spoke again of his not liking to go out in the dark. He had stepped out on the front terrace after supper and came back in. He said it is a feeling he’s always had. It is not fear as such, but he doesn’t like it. It is all right if another person is with him, “or a dog,” he said unexpectedly. I tried to find out what it was. “Something else” is more prevalent in the dark. “Evil?” I asked. It seems to be in a realm he doesn’t want to discuss. It can’t be accurately described. I asked him if the things he does to cleanse or make safe a room, etcetera, are things he was taught…something occult by someone when he was young, Leadbeater, or someone? He said no, no one taught it. It is something he learned by himself. I asked would it take away its power or use if he were to tell what it is? He said yes, and that it can’t be put into words.’ Which shut me up. Well, I wasn’t surprised.
May fourth. ‘Krishnaji slept well. Naudé came at 12:30 p.m., looking smiling. Somewhat more portly.’ ‘We chatted as of yore until Krishnaji came in and greeted him so nicely, “Hello, sir,” Krishnaji’s face alive and friendly. Alain had first asked if he could bring “a very talented musician” to lunch, and, of course, I said yes. Then he rang to ask if he could also bring a very nice woman interested in Krishnaji, etcetera. I hesitated slightly at two strangers on a day before a talk, but Krishnaji said, “Why not? It doesn’t matter.” So I told Alain this and he also wanted to switch the lunch to Greens instead of the Chinese place he had said we would like. The two friends were waiting downstairs in a car that the woman, Anna Silver, had rented. The musician, polite and smiling, was a pupil of Alain’s, Ken Johansson, a pale young Dane with an unmarked face and careful, childlike hands. Greens was busy, but Krishnaji’s presence got us a corner table by the window. The conversation flowed along the surface. Krishnaji told some stories and it all remained sociable. Alain outmaneuvered me and got the check, which was a bit irritating , as I had done the inviting. But I think it was the woman who really paid via Alain.’ They drove us back to the Huntington and that was that. Krishnaji seemed pleased to see Alain, but later asked me what is wrong with him? Krishnaji felt Alain doesn’t really want to be with us. At 4:30 p.m., Terry Doyle came and talked to Krishnaji. He is going to join the Oak Grove School. We walked four laps around Huntinton Park square and had supper in the rooms.’

May fifth. ‘On awakening, Krishnaji said he had dreamt of Nitya—that they were walking where there were deep cement canals that had been built. The water hadn’t been let in yet and he was afraid Nitya would fall in and he was shouting at him. We had breakfast at 8 a.m., and at 10:55 a.m., we met Theo downstairs and walked the few yards across Taylor Street to the Masonic auditorium stage door.’ It was the best arrangement for talks. You just crossed the street and there it was. ‘Krishnaji gave the first San Francisco talk to an almost filled house. Erna, Theo, and Alan Kishbaugh came right over to the hotel rooms afterward to meet briefly with Terry Doyle, who is here with his daughter Felicity. It is agreed that he will join Oak Grove School as a teacher of history and English initially, in place of Lee Nichols, who was leaving. He will also help with administration and be what he calls a “Mentor” between older students and staff, parents, etcetera. Erna and Theo lunched with Krishnaji and me downstairs in the Big Four Restaurant and discussed at length the difficulties of Mark and Asha. Asha flew up here and was with Mark at a table in the auditorium lobby, giving information on the school. Krishnaji has said firmly that director’s wives have no place in the school and it was felt that her coming here and doing the same thing as Mark was a challenge to us. Krishnaji is going to talk to Mark and to her on Tuesday. We stayed in all afternoon, napped, and had supper in the rooms.’
May sixth: ‘‘Krishnaji gave his second San Francisco talk. A very fine one. Afterward, we took Miranda and John to lunch at Greens, which was very pleasant. “I like them,” said Krishnaji. I telephoned Filomena in Rome as it is tomorrow there, and her birthday.’

The seventh of May. ‘Krishnaji and I had breakfast, then we took the 10 a.m. United flight to Santa Barbara where the Moodys met us and drove us to Ojai. It was very hot in the valley, and there was a forest fire towards Santa Paula in May.’

The eighth of May. ‘Erna and Theo returned from San Francisco. I went to Ventura and voted an absentee ballot for the June fifth primary, as I won’t be here. I then bought plants at Green Thumb Nursery, marketed, and got home at 6:30 p.m. Meanwhile, Krishnaji had talked to Mark, and then to both Mark and Asha. He said just about everything. It was a shock for Mark. Krishnaji and I walked down to see the Lilliefelts, and Krishnaji told them the gist of it.’

May ninth. ‘Krishnaji and I drove to Oxnard and got his IRS clearance. Then to Beverly Hills and Dr. Laura Fox, where Krishnaji had a field of vision test. There was no change from his test last year. We ate picnics in the car on a shady street, and then bought another Remington razor, a new showerhead for his bath, things at Lindberg’s, and came home along the beach. It was warm but not as hot as yesterday. Krishnaji had a letter from David Bohm. His anxiety attacks began again on his return to England. It is a touching, sad letter.’

The tenth ‘I spoke to Shainberg in New York about David Bohm’s condition. He has been in constant touch with him, and arranged for Dave to see a good therapist in London.’
The twelfth of May: ‘Krishnaji’s eight-ninth birthday. He slept well and looked wonderfully. Birthday greetings as usual are waved away with a note of scorn, but I felt filled with a silent celebration ‘at the shine in his face when it lights up looking at his rose bushes, his lightness of movement, and the beauty that is without age and seems to increase with each year. He is well. He is strong in energy. His mind is more alive than ever. And he is dear beyond any human measure. It has been a hot day. I telephoned Dorothy, as it is her birthday, too. Krishnaji saw a Mrs. Barbara Gardner and husband because she is doing a book on Mrs. Besant. It was too hot to walk, so we just had our usual supper. Television on Saturdays provides only T.J. Hooker, a 'cops and robber.’

May fourteenth. At noon, Erna and I talked to Milton Friedman about Krishnaji speaking in Washington, D.C. April twentieth and twenty-first, 1985. We have booked The Kennedy Center Concert Hall. Alfonso Colon and Armando Riesco were at Arya Vihara for lunch. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji gave an interview for a career newspaper to a Mrs. Oku Kay Grosgean.’
The fifteenth. ‘I went to leave a letter of welcome to Mr. Grohe, who is arriving today at the Ojai Valley Inn. Then I drove to Beverly Hills for a haircut and did small errands. Then to see Amanda and Phil. I’m not sure if I can see them again before we leave. I returned to Ojai by 6 p.m. Krishnaji had been having a meeting, which lasted almost three hours, with the teaching staff. He then walked to the dip with Theo. The Lilliefelts had met Grohe and his son at the Los Angeles airport.’

May eighteenth, ‘ Krishnaji said that he dreamed that Rajagopal said to him, “Why didn’t you tell me you would turn out like this?” and Krishnaji told him, “Because you behaved like such a bastard.”’ ‘There was a quiet lunch at Arya Vihara. Mr. Grohe was there. Krishnaji rechecked The Intent of the Oak Grove School text, and I retyped it. Later, we drove over to look at the new school building in the Oak Grove. Krishnaji kept saying,  “What a beautiful place,” and “Don’t those teachers see it? How can they quarrel about things?”’
May nineteenth. ‘It was a warm day. At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji gave Ojai talk number one to a large audience in the Oak Grove. All went well. Grohe, Alan Kishbaugh and Stella R. were at lunch. We had a quiet afternoon.’
The next day Krishnaji gave the second Ojai talk to a large crowd and in perfect weather.
May twenty-first. ‘
The twenty-second. ‘At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji held a question-and-answer session in the Oak Grove. At 4:30 p.m., Krishnaji planted a peepul tree for the new school building. The crowd and the sun tired him.’
May twenty-third. ‘At 9:30 a.m., though Krishnaji was tired from yesterday, he had a meeting of Mark Lee, Erna, and me. Mark is to move out of the school’s main building and is already looking for a house. Terry Doyle is to join the school as head of the upper school; and he, Mark, and David Moody are to work out the administration. I left and went for a massage. When I returned, I found the meeting was still going on, and it was joined now by Terry Doyle and David Moody. By the time of my return to the meeting, Moody had suggested the school be run by the entire staff, which was rejected by Krishnaji, Erna, and Doyle. Doyle is to be the director of the entire school. Krishnaji had been very outspoken.
At supper, on the TV came Tribute to a Bad Man and Krishnaji was touched by my smile when Sam’s name came on the screen. He said, “I’m so glad you smiled. I’m so glad you loved someone.” In the kitchen, as we did the supper dishes, he was smiling, too. When I asked him why, he said, “It made me feel such a rush of emotion toward you. I felt no difference with him. I couldn’t feel anything else, that would be dreadful.” His face, when he said all this, was alight and eager with surprise and discovery. He is that flower of the human spirit.’

May twenty-fourth. ‘Krishnaji laughed suddenly in the kitchen at breakfast. “Why?” I asked. “I’m thinking of your smile. It made me feel very close to you.”’ ‘At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji held the second question-and-answer session in the Grove. In the car coming back along Grand Avenue, he said, “I may be going to faint,” but he didn’t. He just closed his eyes for a few minutes while I kept driving slowly. Then it passed. It is some time since he last fainted. As we stepped out of the garage, a green car rushed up behind us, and out jumped an aggressive, absurdly dressed German who had followed Krishnaji from the Grove, demanding to talk to him. Krishnaji had said no, and said it again here with the man shouting at him. I tried to stop the man and he turned on me, “Who are you? Mary Zimbalist?” “Yes,” I replied, but Krishnaji stopped me from saying all I wanted to say. He quietly told the man he couldn’t see him, and we went into the house. Later he told me that I mustn’t try to defend him.’
‘“Why not?” I asked.’
‘“Because they won’t attack me but they might take it out on you. I must defend you,” he replied.’
‘Me: “Isn’t it my job to protect you?”’
‘Krishnaji said, “Something else is doing that. And if you react…do you understand?”’
‘Me: “You mean that if I say something that it may jar that other thing?”’
‘Krishnaji: “Yes. I can tell by looking at their eyes how crazy people are. Of course, if they tried to break into the house, we would both act.”’
‘Me: “Am I supposed to just stand there if someone was physically attacking you?”’
‘Krishnaji: “No, that would be different.”’
May twenty-fifth. ‘Krishnaji saw Armando Riesco before lunch. He is ailing and Krishnaji put his hands on him. He has also done this for Mark Lee, whose back was so bad a doctor wanted to put him in traction for a week, but Krishnaji has totally removed the pain. Mark also reported that severe burns on Carl Talbot’s hands stopped hurting when Krishnaji barely touched his fingers at the peepul tree planting on Tuesday, and the hand is healing. Lois Hobson was at lunch. Krishnaji thinks we must get her for the school. Krishnaji saw Colon and the Fundación people at 3 p.m. I got supper ready after making a Spanish soup of chickpeas, spinach, and the saffron. And we took a short walk up toward Thacher in the slight cool of 6:45 p.m.
M: The twenty-sixth: ‘Krishnaji’s third Ojai talk. A big crowd. Very warm day. He put his hands on Riesco afterward at the house, and Riesco says he is better.’
May twenty-seventh. ‘At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji gave his fourth talk to a huge crowd. At 4 p.m. Mark Lee, Terry Doyle, and David Moody came and described to Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, Alan Kishbaugh, and me the plan they have worked out for the administration of the school. Mark resigns as administrator and for one year becomes “Director of Development,” which means he will deal with the outside world, like the California accreditation board, and he will go about collecting students, money, and describe the school and its education to various groups including teachers in training. According to Doyle, universities, etcetera will pay considerable sums to people who come and hold seminars on unusual education. Mark will try it for a year. If he can do it, incoming students will be gained and it will also pay his salary, so nothing extra for Oak Grove School. If he is unable to do it, at the end of the year he said he would not want to continue. Meanwhile, David becomes director of the elementary school and Doyle of the upper school. Both of them plus two elected teachers plus an administrative officer will run the school. For the latter job, Doyle wants Lois Hobson, if she comes to us. All this will be put to the trustee meeting tomorrow. It all sounded pretty good until, on the way out, both David and Mark handed Erna letters asking for a big hike in salary. Erna was shocked. Krishnaji was shocked. Much discussion of this ensued among Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, Alan, and me. It was a very hot day.’

May the twenty-eighth. ‘Alan Kishbaugh, who stayed in the guest flat last night, came to breakfast at 9:30. Erna and Theo also came. Then Evelyne and Alan Hooker came for a trustee meeting. Mark, Terry, and David Moody came once the meeting had started and explained the new school plan. Krishnaji expressed shock at the money letters. Moody became very emotional and sat with a bowed head. The trustees want a person to be responsible to them, which means, a principal, and Doyle was appointed. We went to Arya Vihara for lunch. Ingeborg von Massenbach and her daughter Helen were there, having arrived to stay until June 7. Lou Blau was also there. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji held a meeting with trustees, the school board, and the Oak Grove School staff; and the new setup was announced. Mark began by speaking very well about his change of responsibilities. Then David, who had pulled himself together, also spoke well, and so did Terry Doyle. There was a knee-jerk reaction from some of the staff: “We weren’t consulted,” and “We used to run the school.” But Krishnaji wafted in eloquence about “You are the inner circle, we are the outer circle. You get on with teaching and let us provide what you need to teach, etcetera.” It seemed to mollify them. While this was going on, the telephone rang and it was Amanda, blessedly home from the hospital. The thermometer was 100 all day.’ Golly.
May twenty-ninth. ‘On this day, when Krishnaji should have been resting, and the thermometer reached a 106 in the shade on my back porch…’ Krishnaji saw Al Blackburn at noon. Evelyne brought the actor Richard Chamberlain to lunch, and Rupert Sheldrake and Jill Purce were there as well.

June first: ‘at 2:10 p.m., Krishnaji and I and Mr. Grohe left in the school van for the Los Angeles airport with Mark and David Moody driving. I realized that the usual 5:55 p.m. departure time of the normal TWA flight was now 5:15 p.m. Mark drove with haste and skill and we got there with thirty minutes to spare.’ ‘Alan Kishbaugh was there to see us off. Krishnaji and I had our usual seats in the bow, and Mr. Grohe got one just behind.’
June second. ‘We arrived at Heathrow at 11:20 a.m. One of Krishnaji’s bags was missing. The recent story of Brockwood was in Dorothy’s face: tight, repressed, unhappy. Brockwood was physically beautiful. The new enclosed front hall was finished. The color of the newly finished drawing room walls was perfect again, and all was well upstairs. But the atmosphere in the school struck Krishnaji so forcibly that he felt like turning around and leaving. We reached Brockwood in time for a late lunch. Mr. Grohe is staying two nights in the West Wing. Dr. Parchure is here. I spoke to Mary Links. Krishnaji slept in the afternoon.’

June third. ‘Krishnaji slept till 10 a.m. In the afternoon, ten of us, including Krishnaji, drove to the New Forest to look at a type of house we might be able to build as a study center at Brockwood. Krishnaji found it not suitable. Grohe has offered to pay for a normal building, keeping a room for himself. Krishnaji’s missing bag was delivered by TWA. I unpacked it for him, and then fell into bed and a heavy sleep.’
June fourth. ‘Mr. Grohe left for Switzerland. Mary and Joe came at noon and stayed until 4 p.m. I spoke to Vanda in Florence.’
June fifth. ‘Iris Murdoch came to meet Krishnaji, lunched with us, and she and Krishnaji talked some more until she went back to Oxford at 3 p.m. They plan to do a video dialogue in October. Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I walked through the Grove and down across the fields.

The seventh. ‘Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, and I took the 10:45 a.m. Petersfield train to London. Joe met us, drove Krishnaji and me to Huntsman, and then we went to lunch with him and Mary at Hyde Park Street.’ That’s where they lived. ‘Joe drove Krishnaji to the dentist, Mr. Thompson. Mary and I sat and talked mostly about the pros and cons of the Norwich TV film project. Krishnaji had a tooth filled, and then we came back by train.’
The next day. ‘The Marogers arrived. Also David Shainberg and Catherine de Segonzac. Krishnaji held the first brain seminar with Shainberg, Dr. David Pete, Professor Francisco Varela, and Professor Bergstrom. Three men from Border Television came to talk to Krishnaji about an interview on Channel 4. He spoke to them before and after lunch. Lady Dufferin also was at lunch.
June thirteenth. ‘ After Krishnaji had spoken alone with Mr. Grohe, we joined forces, and Mr. Grohe was invited to become a trustee of the Krishnamurti Foundation Trust, and Krishnamurti Educational Center at Brockwood Park. He accepted.

‘After lunch Krishnaji, Krishnaji announced the new trustees and the new positions in the school. Stephen was absent but came for supper and afterward Dorothy, Mary C., Ingrid, Harsh, and I explained. At 8 p.m., we met Grohe and Gisèle about the activities of the study center. It was a busy day.’

June fifteenth. At 5 p.m., Krishnaji attended a staff meeting and announced the new setup of the school He felt no contact with the staff in talking with them, and was very disturbed by it all. He said it was my responsibility to do something.’

June sixteenth. ‘Krishnaji talked with students, who are very critical of the state of the school. A German woman architect arrived, but was quite unqualified.

The seventeenth of June. Krishnaji spoke witheringly to the staff and guest helpers. David and Saral came to lunch with Krishnaji and he put his hands on Dave afterward.’

M: June eighteenth. Krishnaji, Mary L, and I did a taped conversation about there being no one representing Krishnaji in the past, present, or future.’ Oh, yes, that silly woman, Vimala Thakar, had said that she would carry on Krishnaji’s work, and, of course, it wasn’t true, so it was felt that something should be put in the Bulletin. I think that’s what we’re talking about.
‘At 5 p.m., Krishnaji came to a school meeting and talked for two and a half hours. He said he is joining Dorothy, Ingrid, Harsh, and Stephen in running the school. He spoke intensely—close to tears at times.’
‘Ian and Jane brought an architect, Mr. Jack, to look at the study center’s site. He made a good impression. All lunched and then Grohe left for France. Krishnaji saw David Bohm, who had come down, then he went to bed.
June twenty-first. ‘Krishnaji and I went to London. We met Asit at Huntsman, I picked up the first pair of Maxwell shoes I had ordered, and we walked to the Connaught, where Asit gave us lunch, joined by a friend of his. Krishnaji and I walked back and looked unsuccessfully for knitted shirts for him. We caught the 4:20 p.m. train back to Petersfield. It was another hot day. Krishnaji was all right in the city, but he has hay fever here.’

June twenty-second. ‘At 8:45 a.m., Krishnaji was interviewed by Eric Robson of Border Television for a series on revelation starting in August.
The next day, at 11:45 a.m., Krishnaji did a videotaped conversation with Ronald Eyre.’
There’s really nothing for the next few days except that the school term ended and the students left.

June twenty-ninth Since we came to Brockwood this month, it has been a period of endless meetings and intense concern on Krishnaji’s part. Krishnaji and I left Brockwood at 8:15 a.m. with Harsh driving us to Heathrow. We took a Swissair flight at 10:35 a.m. to Geneva, and went to the Hotel des Bergues. We lunched in the Amphitryon, went to Jacquet for ties, Krishnaji left both his watches and naviquartz at Patek for servicing, and we bought two bathrobes for him at the Pharmacie Principale. We came back to the hotel, rested, and slept. Dined pleasantly in the Amphitryon.’
June thirtieth. ‘We had a quiet morning in the hotel. At noon Hertz delivered a red Fiesta and we drove to Grohe’s house for lunch. Then, we went on up to the Chalet Horner in Schönried. Vanda and Fosca had arrived there last night.’ Somehow, we found Chalet Horner, rented by Vanda and Gisèle in April when we learned that Chalet Tannegg had been sold. It is rather steeply up a small road and has the Tannegg view, but is higher up and taking in the whole valley. It belongs to an English woman. There are a lot of steep stairs, but all else is adequate. Krishnaji has the main room on the same floor as the living and dining rooms and kitchen. I am in the attic, and Vanda, Fosca, and Dr. Parchure, when he arrives tomorrow, share the ground floor. Fosca had her ninetieth birthday last December and is still her funny, dear self. Fosca is so pleased to see Krishnaji, to be with us all another summer. Vandais looking well. I spent the day unpacking, and slept three hours in the afternoon.’

July third. ‘I did errands in the morning, and at 4:30 p.m., Krishnaji and I drove to the road above Tannegg and took our accustomed path through the woods to the river. Everything is so dearly familiar. We are here another year. What a wondering luxury that is, to have come back again. Krishnaji is well, strong, and we are here once more. The familiar seems a space of sanity. Krishnaji likes this walk. There is nothing level for walking near Chalet Horner, but it is only a ten-minute drive to our Tannegg zone. The Tannegg was empty and mute as we drove past. We stopped by the tent on the way back. It is bigger and lengthwise, parallel to the river this year.’

July sixth. ‘I met Friedrich Grohe at the station and brought him to the chalet. He is giving another large donation to the KFA and wants to buy the Zalk House in Ojai. I helped Grohe fill out bank forms, and we telephoned Erna in Ojai with the news. Krishnaji is moved by Grohe’s generosity, and disturbed by the lack of responsibility at Brockwood. In the afternoon, I drove the car to the tent, walked to Saanen station, took the train back to Schönried, and walked up the hill to the chalet. Then Krishnaji and I walked down the mountain, across the fields where there was too much sun for Krishnaji, but there was nothing to do but keep going. It was too severe a walk for both of us, and the lack of shade for Krishnaji rules it out as well.’

July seventh. ‘I changed the red Fiesta for a more discreet gray-green Opel. Bought Adidas shoes, and brought Natasha up to see Vanda. We had her stay to lunch. She will stay with Vanda in Florence. Krishnaji came to the table, but otherwise slept most of the day.’
The eighth. ‘Krishnaji gave his first Saanen talk, a strong talk, in the new expanded tent. It is much nicer than previous years. He now sits on the west side, and the tent is wider. A large crowd filled it. Grohe brought a friend from Austria to lunch, a Mr. Hammerli. I went with them and later with a friend of Vanda, Monica von Siebenthal, to see other walks for Krishnaji around Schönried, but they have too little shade, so it was back to Tannegg for the walk that he prefers when he woke up from his nap. It was a warm day. He was tired but after supper watched the film Great Escape in German on TV.’

July tenth. ‘At 10:30 a.m., Krishnaji gave his second Saanen talk. At 4 p.m., Jane Hammond and Ingrid came to see Krishnaji and me.
July twelfth. ‘It is a little cooler, and Krishnaji gave his third Saanen talk. I fetched Dorothy and Montague up to lunch. Dorothy is pleased to have driven her Land Rover once again to Saanen after not being able to come last year. To her it is an affirmation that she is well again. I met Guido Franco at the Ermitage Hotel, He wishes to do an article on Krishnaji for a Swiss magazine L’Illustré. When I came back, Krishnaji and I went to the Tannegg hill for a walk in the woods.
The next day was the meeting of the international committees, and on July fourteenth, ‘Princess Gabrielle of Liechtenstein came to lunch. She was at the committee meeting yesterday, lives in Geneva, but is staying now in Rougement.I later picked them up as well as Dorothy, and drove up to the top of the Hornberg for a supper of fondue. All went pleasantly until Brockwood was broached, then Dorothy immediately cut in, saying she was leaving Brockwood

the fifteenth of July: ‘It rained.Krishnaji gave his fourth Saanen talk. A strong, clear one. Grohe brought the same man to lunch as last Sunday and they both ran down the mountain to catch the train, faster than if I had driven them.’. I walked with Krishnaji on the Tannegg walk. Mary Cadogan had a difficult talk with Dorothy, and Jane was there, too.
The sixteenth. ‘At 9:30, Krishnaji spoke to Dorothy, Mary Cadogan, Jane, and me. Dorothy, half in tears, asked to retire. Krishnaji said she cannot’ (underlined) ‘retire. He spoke with tremendous force and then left the room. Dorothy and the rest of us agreed to start afresh at Brockwood without the record of the past troubles. Ingrid, Harsh, and Stephen were waiting below, and they joined us and we all talked until 1 p.m. about a new organization of the school.

July seventeenth. ‘At 10:30 a.m., Krishnaji gave his fifth Saanen talk. . At 4 p.m., Krishnaji was interviewed by Heinrich Jaenecke of the Stern Magazine.’ I think that’s a German magazine.  ‘After that, we went for the Tannegg walk. Krishnaji went to sleep early and slept well.’
The eighteenth. ‘I marketed, fetched Krishnaji’s prescription from Dagmar Lichti, and did other errands. The Marogers came to lunch. At 2 p.m. Dr. Parchure and I went to the Brockwood meeting at which it was explained to all staff members present what had been agreed about a new start. Dorothy was there and agreed.

The nineteenth. ‘Krishnaji gave talk number six. We had a quiet lunch with just Krishnaji, Parchure, and me. At 4 p.m., Guido Franco interviewed Krishnaji for L’Illustré the Swiss magazine. Then we went for the Tannegg walk.’
The next day, ‘At 10 a.m. I went to the second meeting of the international Krishnamurti committees. At lunch were Krishnaji, Grohe and his older son, and Parchure.
’July twenty-first. ‘Mary L. rang from England. I worked on questions handed in for Krishnaji’s question-and-answer meetings.. Krishnaji spent the whole day in bed.’
The next day, there is only that Krishnaji had the first question-and-answer meeting of the Saanen season, and there’s even less for the day after.
On July twenty-fourth, ‘Asit arrived in Gstaad last night from Paris. I fetched him at the Palace Hotel and drove him and Dr. Parchure to the tent for Krishnaji’s second question-and-answer meeting. Krishnaji, Asit, and I were at lunch. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji gave an interview to a Mr. Eiseury and six other psychotherapists. At 5:30 p.m., Krishnaji, Asit, and I walked above Tannegg. Dorothy and Montague came to say goodbye. They have to get back to Brockwood as their son Guy, for some reason, cannot keep his dog Kip any longer, and Dorothy wants to look after him.’

The twenty-sixth. ‘Krishnaji held his third question-and-answer meeting in the tent. I brought Asit back and fetched Mary Cadogan also to lunch. At 3 p.m., the Saanen Gathering Committee, consisting of Gisèle, Mary Cadogan, and me, met.

the twenty-eighth, ‘At 7:30 a.m., I drove Dr. Parchure to the train to Geneva. He goes to Brockwood and then on Monday he flies to India. I brought Asit from the Palace Hotel to go over with him the text of his photo book. Asit, Krishnaji, and I lunched with Grohe in Rougement. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji gave an interview to a Dutch man, Peter Rampschum, for the magazine De Ronde Tafel. Krishnaji, Asit, and I walked in the Tannegg wood.’
July twenty-ninth. ‘It was a marvelous, clear day. I fetched Asit to the chalet to talk with Krishnaji. Krishnaji saw Donald Hoppen about a book he is writing on architecture in which he quotes Krishnaji. Krishnaji, Asit, and I to the Tannegg walk.’

The next day. ‘Krishnaji dictated letters. Asit came to say goodbye, but stayed for lunch. I ran errands, and Krishnaji saw the Siddoo sisters at 4:30 p.m. They want to restart the school again in 1985, but it was understood that it should not use Krishnaji’s name. Krishnaji and I went on the Tannegg walk. Guido Franco and his son Rafael photographed him for a Swiss magazine.’

August first. ‘I worked at the desk all morning. We lunched quietly and took naps, then we went to the Tannegg wood for our walk. As we come to the trees, Krishnaji says, “May we come in? You don’t mind?” He is also watching cars for the color of a possible 190 Mercedes he increasingly thinks we should have in place of my old gray diesel in Ojai.’
He said, “I will live at least another five years,” but next year he wants to come here earlier and rest more before the talks.’

There’s nothing much the next day except that, ‘F. Grohe came to lunch and he suggested Rougement as a place for us to stay next year.’ And the next day I, indeed, went to look there for a chalet for next year.
August third. ‘I spent most of the day working at my desk. It was a hot day and we lunched alone. Krishnaji made a dictation into the Sony on his responsibility to the schools, and his plans for a “nucleus” to study the teachings with him. We walked in the Tannegg wood.’

nAugust fifth, ‘I worked at the desk all morning, then Mr. Grohe came to lunch. Afterward, we went to look at his Rougement flat and an adjoining larger one for next summer’s rental. The larger one would be for Dr. Parchure, Vanda, whoever cooks, and me, and Mr. Grohe would lend his small one to Krishnaji. Krishnaji liked it. I telephoned Erna as she and Theo go on to Arosa after landing in England on the seventeenth, and come to Brockwood for the talks.’ They had a friend in Arosa they went to visit. Krishnaji and I dropped them at the Gstaad station and then went on our walk in the woods. I got a long telephone report from Mary Cadogan on her and Jane’s meeting yesterday with Dorothy at Brockwood. Krishnaji talked to me about his ideas for a very special “quiet room” in The Study.’
August ninth. Friedrich Grohe and his older son Christoph came and took us to lunch at Chlösterli. We came back and took a nap. We did the Tannegg walk at 6 p.m.’ One of the luxuries of having rented Tannegg all those years was that we could store a lot of our things in the basement from one year to the next.
August tenth. ‘There was rain and fog. At 10 a.m., I went to the Cantonal Bank about the Alzina investments, then marketed. We lunched quietly watching the LA Olympics on television. On the way to Krishnaji’s haircut, we saw Vanda arriving on foot from the Schönried station.’ ‘We took her up the hill, and then went on to the haircut. We stopped for things ordered at a pharmacy, fetched laundry, then went in the rain for our usual Tannegg walk.’

 August eleventh. ‘A rainy day, which I spent mostly at my desk. Mrs. Ratzberg, agent for Chalet Horner, came about the final bill, and took away two cartons of accumulated books that had grown at Tannegg all these years.’ I don’t know what she was going to do with all those books. ‘Krishnaji and I walked earlier than usual in the Tannegg wood and then met Radha Burnier at Schönried station.
August twelfth. ‘In the morning Krishnaji and Radha did

(...) August twelfth. ‘In the morning Krishnaji and Radha did a taped conversation beginning with the question, “What is silence?” In the afternoon, Vanda had a Scandinavian boy to see Krishnaji, and then Krishnaji, Radha, and I walked at Tannegg.’
The next day, ‘I spent most of the day packing. I went to the Cantonal Bank again about the Alzina investments; and in the afternoon, and with the help of Ortolani, and the Scandinavian boy Vanda produced yesterday, Jeff, we took a trunk, and various things to store in the Rougement basement for next summer. I signed the lease for the four-bedroom apartment. Krishnaji, Radha, and I walked in the Tannegg wood. “Au revoir. À l’année prochaine,” said Krishnaji to the trees. Krishnaji watched the final Olympics broadcast, and I finished packing.’

August fourteenth. ‘I finished the packing before breakfast. Krishnaji and I said goodbye to her and Vanda, and drove to Geneva airport. Krishnaji allowed me to get a wheelchair, and the Swiss man who brought it and pushed again was one who had been to the Saanen talks and Brockwood, and to Gisèle’s video showings at Buchillon.’ ‘We flew on Swissair 832 to Heathrow. It was a warm day at Brockwood. The country is in drought. Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I walked with Kip.’

August fifteenth. Krishnaji said he could not live with the school discord. Unless agreement comes about, he will close the door between the school and the West Wing. It ended on that note. He and I walked around the fields alone.

August sixteenth. ‘The Mercedes battery is too low to start the car. The architects, Mr. Jack and his colleague, came in the afternoon with the latest plans for The Study. Krishnaji explained to them what is needed for a quiet room, and they seemed intrigued.’] ‘Dorothy and others have got all the marquee chairs and tables put up, and then she came on the walk with Krishnaji and me. She tripped going out of the grove and fell heavily on her chest, but said it was only a bruise.

’
The twenty-third. ‘Krishnaji and I took the 10:45 a.m. train to London. I went to the U.S. embassy for my absentee ballot form. Krishnaji went to the dentist, Mr. Thompson. Then we had a late lunch at Fortnum’s. We walked from there to Burberry and got a raincoat for Krishnaji, then got the 4:20 p.m. back to Petersfield. It was hot in London. Friedrich Grohe had arrived while we were in London and is in the little West Wing guest room, my ex-office. People are arriving for the Brockwood Gathering

August twenty-fifth. ‘At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji gave the first Brockwood talk. Afterward, we had fruit and salad upstairs, and then returned to the marquee for the other food. Krishnaji was busy all afternoon meeting various people. After supper, at Krishnaji’s urging, I held a meeting of the members of staff who are united, and Dorothy, who sat without participating.’
The next day. ‘Krishnaji gave his second Brockwood talk. A very fine one. Again, we had fruit salad in our kitchen afterward, and then went back to the tent.

The twenty-seventh. ‘Krishnaji saw Doris at length and then added Shakuntala, Baruch, and me to the meeting. Baruch is leaving, but now Shakuntala says that she wants to stay. All this lasted all morning and Krishnaji had no rest. He had lunch in bed and got up only to walk with Dorothy, Friedrich, Erna, Theo, and me. I worked on questions for tomorrow.’
August twenty-eighth. ‘Krishnaji held a question-and-answer meeting in the marquee. Afterward, Krishnaji and I had fruit salad upstairs then back to the tent for food. At 4:30 p.m., in drawing room, Krishnaji spoke to all the staff who are staying, plus Jane Hammond, Friedrich, Erna, and Theo. Doris and Dorothy were aggressively critical. Krishnaji passionately was trying to get everyone together. He will close the door to the school if it does not happen. In spite of it being late, etcetera, he, Dorothy, Erna, Theo, Friedrich, and I went for a short walk. I ate upstairs,’ it says.

August thirtieth. ‘Krishnaji held the second question-and-answer meeting, and it was very fine. Erna got a letter from Cohen about Rajagopal saying he wants to make peace, settle differences with Krishnaji before he, Rajagopal, dies. Erna telephoned Cohen, who will make inquiries. Mary Cadogan and I spoke with Doris about her coming to the International Trustees Meetings, which she wants to attend, and we talked to her about not being aggressive. Krishnaji talked alone with Dorothy at 3 p.m., which apparently went well, and was followed by a meeting of all staff who are staying. Dorothy is more relaxed and responsive. The walk later with Krishnaji included Dorothy, Erna, Theo, Friedrich, and Magda Sichitiu
August thirty-first. ‘Krishnaji’s voice is hoarse from fatigue and too much use. He stayed in bed. I met Sunanda and Pama in Petersfield. They are staying until the end of the International Trustee Meetings. Krishnaji saw Dorothy in the morning, and she seems relaxed and her best self. Erna and Theo went with Friedrich and Magda to the Isle of Wight.’
September first. ‘Krishnaji gave his third Brockwood talk. Mary and Joe with their granddaughter, Anna, were here, and had fruit and salad and later coffee with us in the kitchen. Krishnaji talked briefly with a Czech publisher of his books in Germany. The walk was with Krishnaji, Dorothy, Erna, Theo, Magda, and me. Krishnaji’s voice was hoarse in the morning but better by evening.’
September second. ‘Krishnaji gave his fourth Brockwood talk, which was very fine. His voice was still hoarse but improved as he went along. Dr. Chandnani gave both Krishnaji and me cholera shots for India. Grohe left for Switzerland. Mark Edwards took photos needed by KFA. The Gathering ended, and people began to leave. There was a short walk of Krishnaji, Dorothy, Erna, and Theo. The weather stayed dry throughout the talks.’
The third. ‘Krishnaji rested in bed till the afternoon. I spent the morning on laundry and arranging for guests. The Gathering people left, but Radhika Herzberger and her daughter, Maya, arrived. Krishnaji spoke to Polish Magdalina Jascinska before she left. The walk was with Krishnaji, Dorothy, Erna, and Theo. The Mercedes battery was dead again, and had to be taken for recharging.’

September fourth. ‘The Mercedes battery was returned early, and Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and I caught the 10:45 a.m. train to London. Joe met us, and drove us to Huntsman where Krishnaji helped Theo buy a jacket. We walked to Fortnum’s where Mary Links joined us for lunch. At Hatchards, I got the Oxford Book of English Verse and Golden Treasury.’ That was for Krishnaji. ‘Back at Brockwood, Evelyne Blau and Alan Kishbaugh had arrived for the International Trustee Meetings.

September fifth. ‘Mr. Grohe returned. Jean-Michel and the van der Stratens arrived. After lunch, all trustees met with Krishnaji in the assembly room for the first of our meetings. There was a walk with Krishnaji, Dorothy, Erna, Theo, and Alan Kishbaugh. Most met in the evening to talk.’
The sixth. ‘The trustee meetings began at 10 a.m. Krishnaji joined in a bit later. After lunch he talked to Sarjit Siddoo with Erna and me there about their school, if they revive it in 1985. At 3 p.m., the meetings resumed till 5 p.m. On the walk was Krishnaji, Dorothy, Grohe, Erna, Theo, Radhika, and me. At 7:30 p.m., there was another meeting where Harsh showed how indexing can be done on computers. To bed wearily.’

September seventh. ‘Most of the trustees went to lunch with the Digbys at their family castle in Sherborne, Dorset. Krishnaji, Radhika, Sunanda, Dorothy, and I stayed at Brockwood. Pupul arrived from New York in the morning. She chose to share the room with Radhika instead of having the West Wing Bird Room, so Asit will have it and share the bath with Grohe.’

September eighth. ‘Asit arrived from Singapore. At 10 a.m., the trustee meetings resumed, and dealt all day with publications matters. Mary and Joe came down, and Mary presided at the meeting as head of the publication committee. India again wants the copyright shared, this time between the three English-speaking Foundations. Agreement was made to form an international publication committee with two members from each of the English-speaking Foundations—Mary Links and Mary Cadogan for England, Sunanda and Asit for India, and Alan Kishbaugh and I were nominated for the U.S. Alfonso Colon and Riesco from the Fundaci?n are included as “consultants.” This committee of six met after lunch, and it went easily. At 3 p.m., the full trustee meetings resumed, and it was more difficult. We agreed to inquire about the legal implications of shared copyright. Mary Cadogan will consult our copyright lawyer, Rubinstein.’

The ninth. ‘At 9 a.m., there was a meeting with the KF Trust members about the plans for The Study. At 10 a.m., the International Trustees Meetings resumed and continued all day till 6 p.m.
September tenth: ‘At 10 a.m., there was a meeting with Merali of Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, Evelyne, Alan Kishbaugh, Pupul, Asit, Sunanda, Pama, Radhika, and me about his nonpayment of the pledged donation to the KFA—it had been the basis for a matching fund drive. He had asked that Indian members be present. Asit, as a businessman, asked many questions that were totally to the point, and Merali squirmed and got emotional. It broke up, and then there was a meeting of Mary Cadogan, Jane Hammond, Pupul, Radhika, Sunanda, Pama, Asit, and me. At 3 p.m., all the Foundations resumed the meetings, with Krishnaji speaking about the schools, a school journal, and since one of us (himself) had been free of conditioning, what could help other children to be that way? In evening we saw a shortened version (to fifty-eight minutes) of The Challenge of Change film.’
September eleventh. ‘At 11 a.m., Krishnaji spoke in the Assembly Hall to all trustees and the Brockwood staff. In the afternoon, there was a meeting without Krishnaji of trustees to review what had been accomplished during the week. It was Pupul’s sixty-ninth birthday. During Krishnaji’s breakfast, she, Asit, Sunanda, and I taped Asit’s questions of Krishnaji about what kept him untouched by all his surroundings when he was young. Eventually, there was a walk around the block of Krishnaji, Asit, Dorothy, Erna, Theo, Grohe, Merali, Kishbaugh, and me.’

September twelfth. ‘At 10 a.m., Krishnaji spoke to Merali alone. Then he told Erna and me, Pupul, Radhika, and Asit what Merali had said. Pupul, Radhika, Mary, and Asit left by car for London. Alan Kishbaugh left. Krishnaji rested after lunch, but then spent two more hours with Merali, at first with Sunanda and Pama present, and then with Erna and Theo. Merali finally promised to pay the KFA half of what he had pledged by the end of the year and the balance owing to be paid on the sale of his San Diego property. After his supper, Krishnaji watched a video of a Clint Eastwood movie and finally slept.’

The thirteenth. ‘Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and I went by train to London where we met Asit at Huntsman so that Krishnaji could supervise Asit’s fitting. The Lilliefelts went off shopping. I took my dear brown tweed coat to be copied at Hilliard’s on Cork Street in a tweed I found at Huntsman. Krishnaji, Asit, Mary Links, and I lunched at Fortnum’s. Mary spoke frankly about the reactions of KF India to the second volume of her biography of Krishnaji. Asit listened sympathetically. Krishnaji and I bought books at Hatchards and came home.’
The next day. ‘The house is quieter. Krishnaji rested all morning but got up for lunch. I worked at the desk. The walk with Krishnaji included Dorothy, Erna, Theo, and me. I got Krishnaji’s supper tray.

September sixteen, 1984, The Bohms came down for lunch, and I spoke to them and the Lilliefelts after lunch.’ They were visiting from Ojai. ‘There was a late afternoon walk with Krishnaji, Dorothy, Erna, Theo, and me across the fields and back along the lanes. I telephoned Vivian in Ojai—the Krishnamurti Library opened at Arya Vihara, and is going well. ,

September twenty-ninth: ‘Pupul telephoned from Delhi. Krishnaji and the Dalai Lama are both to speak on the same platform, under no auspices, in Delhi on November fourth. She has invited the Dalai Lama to lunch with him the day before. She has booked a room for me at the Taj Hotel during Krishnaji’s Delhi stay. I went to Petersfield on errands in the afternoon, then walked with Krishnaji and Dorothy. It was a beautiful, clear afternoon with golden light and sharp autumn air. Krishnaji is feeling well. This is a season dear to me.’The fifth of October: ‘At noon we started a project of videotaping Krishnaji’s answers to questions on a single subject, asked by me, and the answer was to last just twenty-eight minutes.’ There was an idea to get them on television. Today I posed the questions, and then the cameras stay on Krishnaji. The first one was on “conditioning.” Afterward, he said we should keep going, so we did a second one on “fear.” . Krishnaji said, “You must hurry up to understand everything. I may live another ten years, but you must understand.”’ .’

The ninth. ‘Krishnaji slept poorly. Nevertheless he spoke to the students. Pandit Jasraj, a singer, came to lunch and sang beautifully at 5 p.m. for Krishnaji and the school.’ He was a very good singer. I’d heard him in India. ‘I did editing of the transcript of the Border TV interview with Krishnaji for the Revelation series for publication by them. A new Miele washing machine was installed.’

October twelfth. ‘Krishnaji slept well. He said that in the last two nights he had vague dreams of “the brother.” He “couldn’t see his face, but we were going somewhere, a doctor’s. He went to the doctor, then he went somewhere and I didn’t know where, and then there were a bunch of people saying, ‘We’re for Theosophy.’”’ . ‘“It was a dream, you know. A dream.” Krishnaji felt it was funny.
October fourteenth. ‘Krishnaji recorded on video answers to questions posed by me and Ray McCoy on “What is religion?” and “What is a religious mind?” Each answer was twenty-eight minutes long. It went well. At 4:15 p.m., he joined a staff meeting discussion 'on conflict', and then he and I went for a walk in the fields.’
The fifteenth. ‘My cold is fairly heavy. I finished editing Krishnaji’s Sony dictations, and then did general desk work. I ate my lunch upstairs. In the afternoon, Krishnaji gave an interview for an article to Edwin Oostmejer, a Dutch journalist.’
October eighteenth. ‘Iris Murdoch came from Oxford to do a video dialogue with Krishnaji. Mary and Joe, and their friend, Harold Carlton, came too, and watched the dialogue with the school on a monitor in the dining room. Murdoch and Krishnaji continued the discussion after lunch.’ That’s true, there were two. ‘Murdoch was interesting but never seemed to make the jump to seeing instantly what Krishnaji means. She would say. “Ah yes, I see that. It is like Plato, etcetera,” lining it up or verifying it through intellectual knowledge already stored.
The nineteenth. ‘I met a David Bradshaw, a young Oxford don, at the Winchester bus station. He’s doing a life of Aldous Huxley and Krishnaji said he would talk to him. Krishnaji saw him before and after lunch, then I took him back to Winchester and bought a small Sony shortwave radio in Alresford on the way home to take to India. Talked on the telephone to Phyl Fry. I will not be able to see them this trip, which is a sadness.’
On the twentieth. ‘Mary and Joe came at noon, lunched, and stayed till about 4 p.m. They brought me original photographs of Krishnaji at Ommen in 1926. I walked with Grohe around the block. Rita Zampese brought our Air India tickets, which she has been kind enough to get, as well as my Indian visa, and stayed the night in the West Wing double guest room. Krishnaji says he feels slight bronchitis.’ The next day. ‘Krishnaji says he is alright. “A pink pill did it.”’
On the twenty-eighth, ‘Krishnaji and I got up at 4 a.m., before leaving at 6:30 a.m. with Dorothy and Ingrid to Heathrow.  Friedrich came too, but flew off to Switzerland. Much of the school was up standing in the dark rain to see Krishnaji off. Rita Zampese met us at Heathrow at 7:50 a.m., as did a Mr. Ramesh Sahini, chief protocol officer at the Indian High Commission, sent by Pupul to see that “His Eminence”’ ‘etcetera.’ ‘We sat in Air India after buying a paperback book and the New Yorker at the bookstore. It is settled that Dorothy will fly with Rita, Friedrich, and Magda Sichitiu on December fifteenth and come to Rishi Valley. I have suggested Dorothy return with me after the Madras part of Krishnaji’s tour, which should be on January twenty-sixth, as she shouldn’t travel alone. Rita and the protocol man saw us into our front row seats on the 747, and in the comfort, such as it is, we flew from Heathrow at 8:45 a.m. across Russia, Afghanistan, and Pakistan. We read, slept, and were plied with food. Pupul had specified what Air India should provide as food for us. Krishnaji and I both woke up to watch, without sound, the end of the film Blue Thunder with helicopters chasing each other over Los Angeles.’ ‘We landed at 11:20 a.m. at Delhi. Pama and Mr. Murli Rao were at the foot of the plane steps with a car to drive us to the VIP lounge, where Pupul, in a white heavy cotton sari, was smiling. Mr. Jose, her secretary, and Murli Rao took our passports and tickets and went off to see to everything. After a short while, we could go, and so Krishnaji and I went with Pupul to her house on Safdarjung Road. Nandini and her daughter, Devi, were there, as was Dr. Parchure. Pupul’s house is very nice, done with her good taste.’ She did have good taste.
‘When the others and the baggage came, Devi and Mr. Jose took me to the Taj Hotel, where I have a comfortable room. Driving in the soft warm air, I felt again in India when I saw the calm cows in the road.’ ‘On these trips with Krishnaji, I am borne by the kindness of his friends, sheltered, protected, and instructed by Krishnaji to let it be that way. He is uneasy at my being in a hotel there for a few days, and imagines dangerous food, etcetera.’ ‘They put fruit in the room and he said you mustn’t eat it. I am to eat nothing, he says, but tea, toast , and maybe a boiled egg for breakfast.’ ‘It is, in fact, a hotel more luxurious than the Dorset in New York, which he likes. The next day, Pupul’s car came for me in the morning. Asit had arrived in the night from Singapore. Krishnaji was beautiful as ever in his Indian clothes, an apricot kurta and buff bandi’—that’s the sleeveless sort of a waistcoat. ‘Devi and I went shopping unsuccessfully and came back to Pupul’s to a late lunch. It was family only with Krishnaji and me. Asit asked him why there has always been turmoil around Krishnaji, TS people, Rajagopal, etcetera. Krishnaji said it was not surprising, “In good soil the tree grows and so do the weeds.”’ ‘There was talk too about the “quiet room” in The Study at Brockwood. There was rather a challenge from both Pupul and Asit. Krishnaji said it was “entirely different” from a meditation room or a temple. “It is a place to be quiet, not to bring problems, thoughts,” said Krishnaji. He said he had found it very difficult to live at Brockwood, in a house full of  “a hundred” people where there is turmoil. I went back to the hotel, afraid if I give in to sleep I wouldn’t wake up in time for a walk. So, I read, the archive correspondence I had brought from KFA to KFI, copies of correspondence between Krishnaji and Annie Besant, also with letters to her from Nitya. It was interesting to read in his letters of February seven, 1924 that Krishnaji, during the process, had said, “In one of the messages Krishnaji repeated from the Master, it was said that this house’—Arya Vihara—‘would become a center and that they will watch over it.”’
‘I came back to Pupul’s and went for a walk in Lodi Gardens with Krishnaji, Nandini, and Devi. Supper was en famille. On the walk, Krishnaji told me that the night before we left Brockwood, i.e., early Sunday morning, around 3 a.m., he was awakened with an intense sense of something, a power that was with him, and that it had been going on as we flew. “Something happening.”’
The thirtieth of October: ‘I went with Devi to Cottage Industries shopping. Later I went with Krishnaji, Pupul, Sunanda, and Pama to lunch with the vice president and Mrs. Ventkataraman. They live in a Lutyens house—stately, classical, and large. We sat on very long red sofas, far from each other in an otherwise empty room.’
‘So, conversation is not enhanced. The hostess, with a diamond nose ring, didn’t know about Lutyens, so my compliment went for naught.’ . ‘Krishnaji sat on her right at lunch, and on her left was a minister, I think, for fertilizer (question mark)’ ‘named Sathi.’ I’m not kidding. [Both chuckle.] ‘All went along until a luckless serving man somehow upset a bowl of very hot soup down the minister’s back. He gave a strangled look and tore off his shirt and vest; and instead of leaving the room of this very formal lunch, or being lent another shirt, he just sat out the meal, naked from the waist up. Krishnaji was very disapproving.’
Afterward, Pupul brought out the manuscript of her biography of Krishnaji, and she asked me to read aloud from the opening chapter, which begins with his birth and circumstances of his early life. Krishnaji listened attentively and asked if we felt 'something' in the room. And at the end, he was so moved by the 'presence' in the room that he seemed close to tears. “I could prostrate myself to that,” he said. Back at the hotel I could hardly sleep.’
October thirty-first. We arrived back at Pupul’s at 11:30 a.m. I saw Nandini standing in the hall, very still, as though arrested in something shocking. Behind her, in the living room I saw Krishnaji standing, and knew instantly that something had happened. Sunanda was standing motionless too, and one of them, I think Nandini, said in a low voice, “Indira Gandhi has been shot.” Pupul had been telephoned earlier, and had had Asit drive her the short distance up Safdarjung Road to the Prime Minister’s residence. It was already blocked, but Pupul said she was a minister, and got through. She told Asit to wait in the car, went in through the garden to the Prime Minister’s house, came back walking deliberately, Asit said, and told him, “The Prime Minister has been shot by two of her guards. It is all over. Go and tell Krishnaji but no one else.” She said it in Gujarati. She turned back to the house, and Asit returned to tell Krishnaji. We stayed in Pupul’s house waiting for news. The television played interminable chants. Around 3 p.m., Krishnaji, Asit, Nandi, and I were in Pupul’s sitting room, and Krishnaji said quietly, “I don’t know if you believe in ghosts, but I’ve been seeing Mrs. Gandhi standing there.” He indicated a spot about two feet from where I was sitting at the right end of the sofa. He said that she stood there, looking at him, for more than a minute, and then disappeared. As the afternoon continued with no word from Pupul, Asit, Nandini, and Rajiv Sethi went to the PM’s house to look for her. Pupul had gone to the hospital and they waited at the house. Around 6 p.m., the news of the Prime Minister’s death was announced. It had been withheld until her son and senior ministers could be notified and get back. They all happened to be out of Delhi. Also, they waited so that police and military could prepare for whatever came once the news was out. By the time Rajiv Gandhi got back in a military plane from Bengal, he was appointed Prime Minister and sworn into office. Pupul finally got home about 11 o’clock. She had been with Mrs. Sonia Gandhi all day in the hospital. There were enormous crowds at the hospital. She had helped dress Mrs. Gandhi’s body, and accompanied its return, on a gun carriage, to her house before it will be taken to lie in state. Pupul looked drained and exhausted. I left her with Krishnaji, and Asit accompanied me back to the hotel. The streets in this part of the city are empty. A curfew in other sections has been declared. I have been looking out over the city, and violence against Sikhs has begun. There are fires in the outskirts.’
The first of November: ‘Pupul went out before 5 a.m. to accompany Mrs. Gandhi’s body to where it will lie in state until the funeral on Saturday. A car came and took me to Pupul’s house at 10 a.m. All the taxis have disappeared at the hotel as most have Sikh drivers. There has been burning of houses and attacks on Sikhs throughout the night in Delhi and elsewhere in the country. Krishnaji’s talks with the Dalai Lama have been canceled. There are curfews, but not in Delhi. The streets are almost empty here. We stayed in Pupul’s house all morning. The TV showed, endlessly, the lying in state and the thousands filing past, many throwing fists in the air and chanting in Hindi “Blood for blood.” It is felt safer for Krishnaji to get out of Delhi, and so our departure for Benares has been moved from Monday to Saturday.’ This was written on Thursday. ‘There were rumors all day of trouble and curfews all over India. Pupul’s house remains a seeming spot of safety. It was a quiet morning, like any other in the garden. Birds wing about. The sunlight is pale and gentle. After lunch, I took a nap on a mat in the living room, and later Krishnaji wanted his walk, so he, Asit, Nandini, Devi, and I drove to an almost empty Lodi Park. We passed only one burned-out and toppled car. Pupul returned from the Prime Minister’s house with news that it appears safe for Krishnaji to go to Benares. A television crew came and interviewed her about Mrs. Gandhi. After supper, Rajiv Sethi dropped me at my hotel. When I spoke to Krishnaji before dinner, he said that yesterday, before Mrs. Gandhi was killed, he thought of her in the morning while he was brushing his teeth and said to himself, “I’ll probably never see her again.” He was to have seen her at lunch this Saturday at Pupul’s house, a lunch that both Mrs. Gandhi and the Dalai Lama were to attend.’
November second. ‘Our going to Benares is canceled as unsafe. Instead we go south tomorrow to Madras where it is quieter. A car came from Pupul’s and took me to her house at 11 a.m. The disturbed atmosphere is affecting Krishnaji. We lunched and I stayed there until Krishnaji, Asit, and I walked in Lodi Park. I got Krishnaji packed. Scott got through by telephone from Brockwood. I asked him to spread the news that we are alright and going to Madras, including to tell Erna, and via her, the Dunnes and my brother. I came back to the hotel and packed. I had the TV on and heard that the flights to Madras are canceled. I telephoned Pupul’s, and after flurries of inquiry, heard we will fly tomorrow, but at 11 a.m. instead of 6:30 a.m. This hotel continues to function normally except there are worried-looking turbaned guests.’ The Sikhs are turbaned. ‘The disorders have continued, and there are horrifying accounts of Sikhs being set afire. Nothing has been learned since Wednesday’—this is Friday already—‘of the Sikh bodyguard who was captured after shooting Mrs. Gandhi. The one who shot first was killed by other guards, and he is said to have been on her guard duty for over ten years, and to have traveled abroad with her. How is it possible for a man, after all that, to shoot an elderly woman? Twenty-two bullets are said to have hit her, all in the body and lower torso. Only her face shows in the lying in state, untouched. And people continue to drag people out of houses and trains and kill them. What is the savagery that lies so near the surface? Her son spoke to the nation on television this evening. He was very dignified and well spoken.’
The third of November: ‘Mr. Jose, Pupul’s nice and so efficient secretary, and Mr. Murli Rao came for me at the hotel at 9 a.m. I went to Pupul’s house. Aditi, Nandini’s granddaughter, had arrived from Mexico where she was with her dance troupe. Krishnaji, Sunanda, Pama, Prema, Ahalya, Dr. Parchure, and I flew at 11 a.m. to Madras. Krishnaji and I were in first class, which was almost empty. He and I had a picnic lunch. A steam bath hit us as we stepped out of the plane at Madras. Radha Burnier, Jayalakshmi Amma…’ Amma is not her name. It’s like a title, I think, something to do with the Tamil word for mother. Anyway, ‘Jayalakshmi Amma and others were waiting to greet Krishnaji at Vasanta Vihar. Sunanda has kindly given me her front room on the ground floor, which has a new tiled bath. Krishnaji wanted a walk, and so, with Pama, we went to Radha’s house at the Theosophical Society and walked on the beach. It is quiet here, and there have been few disturbances. Mrs. Gandhi’s funeral and cremation took place in Delhi.’
The fourth of November. ‘It was a quiet day with discussions at the meals. We walked on Radha’s beach again. Krishnaji wants to go to Benares on Friday. In spite of the difficulties and dangers of train travel, over a hundred people have already gone to Benares for the planned gathering, and Krishnaji feels he must go for that as well as Rajghat itself needing his presence. He hasn’t been there in a few years. Achyut and Balasundaram arrived from Bangalore during the evening.’
The next day. ‘After much consultation, it is decided to go to Benares Friday. I worked on letters, had a nap after lunch, and we all walked on the beach in the late afternoon. Dr. Sudarshan came to dinner.’ That was a Tuesday.
The sixth. ‘With Prema Srinivasan, I went to see her daughter’s, Sheela Balaji’s, workshop where she makes designs of cloth done in vegetable dyes. Then we went to a boutique where Malini’—that’s her other daughter—‘sells it. I bought printed cotton for tunics. We came back and I had coffee with Prema at her house. In the afternoon, I dictated letters to a typist, then went on another beach walk with Krishnaji, Radha, and Pama. In the U.S., Reagan is reelected too overwhelmingly.’
There’s really nothing for the next two days, then on November ninth. ‘I was up at 3 a.m., and at 4 a.m. we left Vasanta Vihar. Krishnaji, Sunanda, Pama, Parchure, Ahalya, and I flew to Delhi. Pupul met us and took us to her house for breakfast. Mr. Murli Rao took me to the Taj Hotel, where again I had a room for the night. We lunched at Pupul’s, rested there in the afternoon, and then walked in Lodi Gardens. Mr. and Mrs. L. K. Jha came in while we were dining and afterward dropped me at the hotel.’ He was, I think, the Indian ambassador to Washington.
The tenth. ‘I was up at 4 a.m. and Mr. Jose came for me an hour later. From Pupul’s, Krishnaji, Nandini, Aditi, Sunanda, Pama, Parchure, Ahalya, and I went to the airport, and at 7 a.m. flew nonstop to Benares. The drive to Rajghat from the airport was even bumpier and dustier than in the past.’ ‘All the school was out to greet Krishnaji. I have the same room as before, below Krishnaji’s. The Sathayes have made it as comfortable as they could. He is now principal, and she is quiet and nice. We had breakfast and unpacked. I slept in the afternoon, and we walked around the playing fields.’
The next day. ‘At 9:30 a.m., Krishnaji gave a talk to the campers who have been waiting for him, and later all of us lunched with them in the school dining room. The walk was again around the playing fields in late afternoon.’
November twelfth. ‘At 8:30 a.m., Krishnaji gave his second talk to the campers and other visitors. The twelve days of mourning for Mrs. Gandhi have ended. I went with Nandini and Aditi to Benares, where they bought saris at the Kissam Sari Emporium. Benares is its unchanging self: dusty, filthy, crowded, mad, and totally India. I came back to lunch, nap, and walk.’

November thirteenth. ‘Krishnaji came to the breakfast table and had sharp words for those present about the Anvekars, who are leaving. He then talked to them separately, and afterward held a KFI trustee meeting about it. It was difficult and rough going.’ I don’t know why I don’t explain what all that was about. ‘We walked again around the playing field in the afternoon.’
The next day. ‘I went shopping in the morning with Nandini, Sunanda, and Ahalya where I got tussar and raw silk for Krishnaji.’ For shirts, I guess, or some Indian something. ‘Back to lunch. The late afternoon walk with Krishnaji included a group and we walked across the Varuna’—that’s the little river that runs between the Rajghat buildings and the farmland. It’s the road to Sarnath, actually—‘as far as the pump on the east edge of the Rajghat land. Krishnaji has the beginnings of cold symptoms.
November fifteenth. ‘Krishnaji stayed in bed with a slight cold and slight fever. I did desk things in the morning. And in the afternoon I went with Nandini, Sunanda, and Ahalya into Benares to buy saris. The sari shop owner came for us in a car and then led us through winding narrow alleys in what had been a fortress where cell-like shops, selling anything and everything, line the narrow, rough cobblestone walk.’ Bicycles, children, goats, noise, smells. We came to the sari shop, a cell, like the others, but lined with canvas. You drop sandals at the entrance, sit against bolsters on the floor, and then saris are flung out for inspection. These were mostly cotton ones, a specialty. Much talk. Much choosing. I bought nothing, as I do not intend to wear saris, and at the end, one has to politely evade proffered coffee. It was dark when we left, and the man guided us out. I concentrated on Sunanda’s feet right in front of me and kept walking. “My god,” she said “What a place. If any trouble starts here, we’d all be knifed.”’ ‘When we reached the street, there was, of course, no car, so we had to pick our way through people on the pavement selling fruit, vegetables, parrots in small cages. We waited in a jeweler’s shop, in the purple fluorescent light, and eventually someone came who knew where the car was. We found it, then drove back through the noise and dust to Rajghat and buckets of hot water. Head, nose, body, feet, and sandals have to be washed after an expedition to Kashi.’ Kashi is the name of Benares in ancient days. Benares has to be seen to be believed.

The sixteenth. ‘Krishnaji’s temperature was normal but he stayed in bed all day sleeping and reading. I dictated letters slowly, so my non-Indian English was understandable to the very willing man who took it in shorthand. I slept and read in the afternoon.’ Well, it was nice of him. I’m not very good at dictating, although you wouldn’t know it from this. People would say to me, “Why don’t you have somebody type your letters?” And I’d say, “Because I can’t dictate, I have to see the letter if I’m writing it. I can’t just listen to myself.”
The  seventeenth. ‘Krishnaji is better, but he stayed in bed. I spent most of the day doing letters. There was a cyclone in Madras with heavy rains and many trees downed.’
November eighteenth. ‘Krishnaji spoke in the assembly hall to the teachers, and one, a man named Dennis, was rather aggressive. Then he rested for the remainder of the day. I walked around the campus and ended up at Vatsala’s and Dr. Parchure’s cottage, and talked with him about his working in the North. He gets on with the Upasani, Sathaye, and the two new ones, Dr. Hira Lal and Maheshji.’ Mahesh was his name, but you put ji on the end of some names in India. This, according to Sunanda, is a term of both familiarity and respect. So, with Krishnaji, you wouldn’t call him Krishna, that would be too intimate. But putting the ji on the end of it makes it both friendly, affectionate, and respectful. And that applies to all the names with ji that you use in India. So, ‘it is in the North that Parchure has collected a fair number of people interested in Krishnaji’s teachings.’ This is what Parchure has done. ‘He does not seem to mind at all, all that repels me about this place. Vatsala seems happier in Rishi Valley than here, as she has her sons Vikram and Vishwas near enough there in Bangalore.’ She likes it better to be in Rishi Valley for that reason.
November nineteenth, 1984 we’re in Rajghat. ‘Krishnaji spoke to the students in the morning. It was difficult, as they have insufficient English and no notion of his teachings. Afterward he rested while I did letters. Last night I asked him where, other than Vasanta Vihar, was there difficulty in working together as between the Patwardhans and Parchure. A religious center, which Krishnaji wants, could be created. Today Nandini, Sunanda, and Ahalya went shopping, and I felt a fourth trip to Benares was pushing my luck.’‘So I stayed here, and was at lunch with Krishnaji, Upasani, Sathe, Parchure, Maheshji, and Dr. Hira Lal. On a sudden decision, Krishnaji told them to come back at 4 p.m. He wanted to tell them two things. When we reconvened, he said that one, someone should be responsible for Krishnaji’s teachings among the students. Maheshji is to do this. Two, he spoke of a religious center for the north here at Rajghat: the five of them working together in the school is good, but it must also be for that. Parchure is to be based here during his time in India when he is not traveling with Krishnaji or in the West. He and the other four get on well and trust each other, and they pledged themselves to this. Krishnaji spoke at length and with eloquence about this working together. “If Sathe makes a mistake, it is my mistake because I let him make it.” Afterward he dictated to me, “A religious brain has no shelter. It is not scattered. It is unshackled. It has no schedule. It is non-comparative, utterly free from all ritual, dogma, faith. It is capable of cooperation because it is wholly free in independence.”’
‘Later there was chanting in the assembly hall. Krishnaji sat on the floor among the students, and nine South Indian Brahmin priests chanted.’ It was wonderful. ‘It is a harsh, compelling, ancient sound that seemed to come from deep in the unconscious of centuries. The sound of Sanskrit has some indecipherable depth and meaning to my totally uncomprehending ears. It went on intensely for longer than my bones on a hard seat liked, but Krishnaji was euphoric when we walked back with a flashlight. “That sound, the depth of that sound,” he kept saying.’
Now the twentieth. ‘Pupul arrived from Delhi while we were still at the breakfast table. Prema rang from Madras and said that six or seven trees at Vasanta Vihar were felled by a heavy cyclone there. Pupul still has her government car and seems still at the center of things in Delhi. If Rajiv Gandhi wins the elections at the end of December, the Festival of India in the U.S. in 1985 will go ahead. If he loses, “I am on my way out,” said Pupul.’ ‘But she thinks he will win. Krishnaji asked her if she and Rajiv Gandhi were friendly, and Pupul smiled happily, “He is very fond of me.” At 10 a.m. Krishnaji held a KF India meeting and told them the two things he had discussed with the Rajghat group yesterday: his teachings have to be brought to the students in the school, and a religious center should be created here. He read them the paragraph on “A religious mind has no shelter,” etcetera. He said a similar center should come about at Rishi Valley and one at Vasanta Vihar. I dictated letters to Mr. Chandran in the afternoon, and walked with Krishnaji, Sathe, Nandini, and her friend, Bakul, three times around the playing field where boy students were playing cricket. The air pollution of Benares: dust, smoke, and who knows what, is beginning to grate in my nose and lungs.’
November twenty-first. ‘Pandit Jagannath Upadhyaya’—it’s pronounced “Upadhya,” but it’s written Upadhyaya. Don’t ask me why there’s a difference, but that’s the way it is [S chuckles]—’came after breakfast. Krishnaji asked him what the Buddha said about time and this led to a discussion in which Krishnaji said, “Change implies time, and so is not change.” I have a cold. I went for a walk with Krishnaji in the afternoon, but had supper in bed. There was noise all night of broadcast music from across the river.’ The next day: ‘Sunanda, Pama, and others left for Madras and Rishi Valley. I have a slight fever so stayed in my room and began a course of erythromycin Krishnaji spoke to the teachers.’November the twenty-fourth. ‘I have had a cold and slight fever for two days and am taking no chances because this is India. I agreed with Dr. Parchure to start a course of erythromycin, which Lailee gave me for the trip. I have some weakness, but on the whole it was a bit of luxury to stay in bed. I got up this morning; I washed my hair and the rest of me with the one hot water bucket.’
Parameshwaram brought a breakfast tray, but I was dressed, and so ready to walk over to the assembly hall for Krishnaji’s third talk here. He had come downstairs early to see how I was. I hope he was reassured by the lightness of my sickness, as his first reaction was that India is a perilous place for me. “You must outlive me, and it is not good for you here. I am used to it: the dirt, the noise, the food, the traveling.” He thought I should come to Rishi Valley and then return to the West. He left it on a “We’ll see” status. His talk this morning was mostly on time and thought. The past, present, and future are the same. The past creates the present and, slightly modified, becomes the future, so the future is now. He does not always insert “Unless you change” in the middle of this, and so to the newcomer it can sound rather hopeless. But he is now exploring change as being within time, and therefore not change. The key is attention. That total attention, at his depth, which he doesn’t let thought creep into. This real attention brings an energy, which is not thought. This energy, he said this morning, is love. It is intelligence and compassion. So, things are not changed into something else or better. If they are seen, they end, and that is instantaneous and not in time.’ This is what nobody seems to understand. These discussions we have go on endlessly.
I walked back to my room, avoiding gravel in my sandals, Krishnaji ahead under his big Briggs sun umbrella, escorted by Upasani. Pupul and Nandini were at the talk. Pupul is not feeling too well. The shocks of the past weeks in Delhi are probably affecting her now.’
November the twenty-fifth. ‘At 9:30 a.m. Krishnaji gave his fourth Rajghat talk in the assembly hall. He asked which of the long list of subjects he should talk about. Different ones were called in in heavy accents, and he chose to begin with desire, and went on to death and meditation. He spoke of the senses being fully alive, not suppressed. Four red-robed Buddhist monks in the front of me listened impassively. Their smooth Tibetan faces were like wax. Nandini and her friend Bakul left for Bombay. I didn’t walk but rested one more day.’
November twenty-sixth: ‘At 9:30 six Benares Brahmin pandits came with Pandit Jagannath Upadhyaya to discuss with Krishnaji. Upadhyaya speaks in Hindi, so there is an interpreter, but Pupul soon took over this job. Everyone sits on the floor in the upstairs room, including about twenty audience members, but Pupul sits in an armchair, cross-legged, looking rather monumental, and the cause of it all.’ Upadhyaya’s opening question to Krishnaji was on the difference in Krishnaji’s terms between brain and mind. By 11 a.m., it was still on 'brain'. Tomorrow, perhaps, we will get to 'mind'. The pandits were mostly middle-aged, wearing doti, kurta, and shawl; one, rather portly, had three rings. Men here tend to wear rings that women would in the West: a stone and band in gold. Upadhyaya has expressive, intelligent hands, the gray hair of a fox terrier, and the most unfortunate upper front teeth I have ever seen and Krishnaji persuaded him to have them fixed.Otherwise, he has a nice, intelligent face, which lights up in speaking to Krishnaji. The pandits all stayed to lunch, their attention fastened on Krishnaji. I helped Ahalya pack Krishnaji’s trunk for Madras.’
The twenty-seventh of November. At 9:30 a.m. yesterday’s discussion resumed with the addition of Rinpoche Samshong.’ That’s our Tibetan Rinpoche. ‘Krishnaji went into what he means by 'mind', which he says is “totally different” from 'brain'. An absorbing exploration in which he came to stating that when the brain is still and the self is not, then there is mind, which is love, intelligence, compassion. Because of thought and self-centeredness, we live in disorder. Death must be the most marvelous thing because it ends disorder, and so it brings order. I queried this and he said there is order in the universe and my perception (can’t say brain or mind) made the jump from the personal ending by death; so there remains the order of the universe. How far ahead he goes. Rinpoche stayed for lunch and Krishnaji, who had spoken eloquently of the highest use of all the senses during the morning discussion, several times asked why celibacy is insisted upon in various religions. Rinpoche did not respond very much to this, but he did describe the steps of the Tibetan Buddhist monkhood. Seven years of probation and many vows, etcetera. Krishnaji asked him about the Dalai Lama and his view of him. Rinpoche said that the Dalai Lama is in a guru position to him, as the Dalai Lama was involved in his ordination. He said he would obey the Dalai Lama, and Krishnaji took this up as obedience “is a terrible thing.” “Why should I obey? If I’m wrong, I’m wrong, and I will find out for myself.” He maintained that help is harmful because it weakens people. We all pointed out that he spends his life helping people. “Then why do you talk so much?” asked Rinpoche. Krishnaji says he does not want to help people—time in this for enquiries about what the Buddha said on this. “But Buddha continued to talk,” said Rinpoche after quoting the Buddha in similar lines to Krishnaji’s. He maintained that there is only pointing the truth, not help. The truth is the only authority. We walked four rounds of the playing field with Krishnaji.’

November the thirtieth. Krishnaji and I drove to the airport through dust and rough road to catch the noon plane. It was two hours late. We reached Delhi at 3:30 p.m. Pupul, who returned there two days ago, was at the airport with Mr. Jose and Murli Rao to meet Krishnaji. Krishnaji had a 4 o’clock lunch at Pupul’s, but I couldn’t look at food. Instead, I took a spoon of brandy in hot water, which quieted the stomach.’ I don’t know who prescribed that. I don’t like brandy. ‘Krishnaji kept glancing at me worriedly at the table, so I went and lay down until we had to return at 5 p.m. to the airport where Krishnaji and I took the 6:30 p.m. flight to Madras, due at 9:30 p.m. However, the weather made landing impossible, so the plane went on to Bangalore. I wondered how to look after Krishnaji if we had to get off there. But we were kept onboard for about forty-five minutes until the weather lifted and flew back to Madras. We circled before landing, but finally the pilot made a good landing. The plane was cramped and full. A car with Pama and others met Krishnaji when we landed, and it was a mercy to go right to bed at Vasanta Vihar; the nice clean bathroom, a welcome sight. The one at Rajghat was pretty bad. I would just as soon never go near Benares again.’ I was feeling a little under the weather when I wrote that.

So, the first of December. ‘I felt weak but normal on awakening. Sunanda had a doctor come, but I had no fever as I seemed recovered. I had a quiet day getting cleaned of Benares dust, etcetera, but Krishnaji went in the afternoon to see the storm along the beach.’
The second of December. ‘I feel better, though food is still repellent to me. I rested and repacked for Rishi Valley. I did manage to go with Krishnaji to the beach in the late afternoon and walked partially. Radha has had hepatitis but is up and around.’
December third. ‘The last two days were quiet at Vasanta Vihar. I began to get over the stomach upsets but felt weak on Saturday.’ This is written on a Monday. ‘With a big wind still blowing from the fringes of a new cyclone, Krishnaji went to see the sea and came back exhilarated, hair flying.’ ‘Huge waves close in the sand, he said. He had walked alone as Pama still has an injured ankle and Radha has come down with hepatitis, though she is now recovering. I had stayed in, weakly reading, but yesterday I went with him and walked a little slowly behind him. It was getting dark but he said he hadn’t minded. At Rajghat he had talked to me about his unease when it begins to darken. He has always felt this way, he said, “I feel like a skeleton wandering.”
‘This morning I was up at 3 a.m., and at 4 a.m., in the Santhanam car, we left Vasanta Vihar for Rishi Valley and reached here at 8:40 a.m. In a drizzle with umbrellas, the school, Radhika, Narayan, Mrs. Thomas, etcetera were waiting to greet him outside the old guest house. Parameshwaram had breakfast ready. I settled into the same room I’ve had these latter years, next to the dining room and across from Krishnaji in the old guest house. I opened the accumulated mail. Krishnaji slept, and in the late afternoon he, Radhika, and I walked. There is great quiet in the valley; remoteness, and an ancient rhythm. There is also a drought as it is another dry year. The big old well is almost empty, and the streambeds are dry.’
December fourth. ‘I did Christmas letters and checks. The Parchure family came to see Krishnaji. At lunch, Krishnaji, Narayan, Narayan’s brother Krishna, a sister, Uma, Rajesh, Radhika, and me. We started for a walk in the afternoon, but showers caught us, and we came back.’
The next day. ‘Krishnaji rested. I continued to write Christmas notes and checks. At lunch, as yesterday, there was Radhika, Narayan with his brother, Krishna, and his sister, Uma, Rajesh, and me. Krishnaji pursued the question he put yesterday to Uma and others: “How do you regard K? Is he different from you? And if so, why?” He was asking the family members, but they had no answer to it any more than the rest of us. Krishnaji teases Uma about her sociologist point of view. She smiles and was restrained in her replies. In the afternoon, Krishnaji, Radhika, and I walked toward Tetu. One feels the valley most strongly there. The simplicity of the earth, the hills, sky, and a sort of stillness. “This would be a good place to die,” said Krishnaji. It was dark when we got back, but he didn’t mind because Radhika and I were with him. The valley is moist from yesterday’s rain.’
The sixth. ‘I worked almost all day at my desk. Krishnaji, Radhika, and I again walked on the Tetu Road as far as the little temple. Krishnaji is moved by the beauty of the country.  “One could die out here.”’ He said it again.
The next day. ‘I spent almost all day doing desk work. I didn’t feel too well in the stomach but kept going. Dr. Parchure gave me pills for my stomach, and is also doing surprising therapy to the swelling in my bad leg, forcing me to move and break up the swelling.’
The eighth. ‘Krishnaji rested and so did I, most of the day. I had lunch and supper in the guest dining room where non-spiced food(?)’—big question mark in parentheses —‘is provided.’
The ninth of December. ‘At 9:30 a.m. Krishnaji spoke to the teachers from the schools of Rishi Valley, Madras, Bangalore, and Rajghat. After his rest, I walked with Krishnaji, Radhika, and Mr. Naidu, seeing the silkworms in a new building for them.’ That was Mr. Naidu’s project. It was very interesting.
The tenth. ‘Krishnaji is feeling tired, so he rested. I wrote letters. We walked along the Tetu Road after seeing the dairy and the new bio-gas mechanism.’ They had an ingenious thing, maybe you can describe that better than I can.
The eleventh. ‘Krishnaji held a second discussion with teachers from the different schools. Several of them were at lunch. Krishnaji walked with Radhika and me. My second suitcase finally arrived.’
There’s really nothing the next day, but on December thirteenth, ‘At 9:30 a.m. Krishnaji held the third meeting with teachers. Nandini and Bakul arrived from Bombay. I did letters. I walked with Krishnaji, Radhika, and a teacher on the Tetu Road. Krishnaji, Radhika, Nandini, Bakul, and I had supper together in the old guest house.’
Again, nothing until December fifteenth. ‘At 9:30 a.m., Krishnaji held the fourth discussion with teachers, after which he saw a Spaniard, Thomas Fernandez, who was unwell, and he treated him. In the afternoon an Indian government film person photographed Krishnaji on the walk. At 6 p.m., there was a dance recital by students in the assembly hall. Heaters were put in Krishnaji’s room and mine.’
The next day, ‘Krishnaji treated the Spaniard again. I talked to him at some length. In the afternoon, Krishnaji was filmed walking about by the Indian government film people. Dorothy, Rita Zampese, and Friedrich Grohe arrived at 11 p.m.’
December seventeenth: Friedrich breakfasted and lunched with Krishnaji. Krishnaji rested in the morning, then did the usual walk in the afternoon.’
The eighteenth of December: ‘On the afternoon walk with Krishnaji were Nandini, Bakul, Radhika, and me. We went on the Tetu Road where days ago Krishnaji had said that he was so moved by the beauty of the country that “One could die out here,” but today, we went as far as the small temple, where the head and torso of a goddess is fashioned in clay on the base of a tree and where the villagers sacrifice goats. One other day we walked there, and Krishnaji asked us if we felt something about the atmosphere. Radhika said she felt nothing. Nandini said she had once walked there with her son, Gansham, and they had not wanted to stop near that temple. There is something unpleasant about it. I have always been drawn toward the country there because it is beautiful, totally country, with fields, orchards, and a red sandy road and Rishi Konda at the end of the valley. But I’ve always tread carefully, feeling alien in the eyes of the land and the dark Telugu faces, even though the children offer a handful of groundnuts as a present, and once some custard apples were offered by an old, bent twig of a man. I would walk there alone, but warily, somehow. Today, Krishnaji and the rest of us stepped into the temple, which is a stone box, not very deep, empty except for a row of lingam-shaped stones, and there, after showing Nandi and Bakul the statue of the goddess at the base of the tree, we turned back on the road toward the school. It was late afternoon. The sun had dropped behind Rishi Konda. The sky was pale gold, but dark was beginning on the path. About halfway back, Krishnaji asked me if I had felt anything behind us. I said I had felt I wanted to move away from the temple. He said he had felt something following him. He watched what he felt, and then he said to it, “Enough”…“I did something and told it to leave, and instantly it was gone.” He said the school land of Rishi Valley is peaceful, but the land beyond is not. “It is a dark land. There is danger in those villages. We must keep them at arm’s length.” Dorothy, Rita Zampese, and Friedrich Grohe arrived last night. Dorothy doesn’t look quite right, but it may be the strain of the trip. Also, Friedrich, who leaves earlier, wants to travel with Krishnaji from London to California. This means I could go ahead to Ojai. I will have to think it out. Leaving India is a desirable thought. Something dogs me on this trip, though everything is done to make my visit pleasant with great thoughtfulness. There is something about the country that is, to me, what? As Krishnaji said, “it is a dark land.”’
December twentieth. ‘At 9:30 a.m. Krishnaji spoke to the school. He had seven children with him on the dais, and came back exhilarated by their interest.’ There are lovely photographs of that. ‘Mr. and Mrs. Thomas and Radhika were at lunch. Krishnaji walked with them and Friedrich Grohe to the mouth of the valley, while I went to see Mrs. Parchure, Mr. Naidu, and Dorothy. Krishnaji, also exhilarated by his long walk, asked me to have supper with him on trays in his room.’
There’s nothing of significance on the next day, but on December twenty-second. ‘Krishnaji had an extra discussion with students, at the students’ urging. As usual, the mid-aged ones were the talkers.’ That means twelve year olds. ‘He had six come to join him one after another on the dais. Afterward Krishnaji was engulfed in children. “Can we talk again sir?” and “Why don’t you stay here, sir? You should be our principal, sir.”’ ‘The older silent students now want a meeting, but they have waited too long, and Krishnaji will rest until he leaves on December twenty-sixth.’
‘I took photos as I have at other meetings. Krishnaji, later in the morning, saw Mr. Naidu with his three children. Mrs. Naidu died suddenly of a heart attack last Monday. She was only forty-two. Four students came to interview me for the school magazine. Krishnaji lunched in bed. I in the guest dining room. I slept only in spurts last night, and so took a half an hour nap after lunch, then went to call on Vatsala Parchure. Dr. Parchure sat through tea, Earl Grey, which he notices I drink in Switzerland, and then went out so that Vatsala and I could talk alone. She is as nice and as remarkable in her own way as her husband. She is housemother to twenty-five children, mostly the very young ones. She also teaches them general studies, Hindi, and handwork. In doing all this, she is growing as a person, liking it, learning new things to do better, and accepting his duties that keep him absent so much of the time. “I am a happy person,” she said, and it seems clear that she is. What a very nice couple they are. I came back in time to walk with Krishnaji, Narayan, Rita, Grohe, Radhika, and a male teacher, Alo, along the Tetu road, past the temple to the crossroad. Krishnaji strode purposefully around the back of the temple. And when later along the road I asked him if he had felt anything following him, and he said, “No, I went deliberately around the temple, did certain things, and said ‘You stay here. This is your place.’”’ Then I asked, “Did you feel a resistance?”’
‘Krishnaji, “It didn’t like it, naturally.”’The school van eventually met us. We had probably walked three miles.
The twenty-third. ‘Pupul leaves today, so she, Radhika, and I had supper with Krishnaji last evening. During supper, there was a long talk about his life and some occult matters, and Pupul’s book on Krishnaji. She had given me an article supplied by Radha Burnier that Krishnaji had written sometime in the twenties after Nitya’s death. It describes his concept of Masters, not as remote, strange, beings, but as part of himself and his daily life. He said he had not seen them often and only “as the flash of a passing bird.” We spoke of whether Leadbeater could have made the vague dreaming boy imagine these things. Pupul says there is little direct testimony from Krishnaji in those days. Much of the accounts are by CWL. We even speculated whether Leadbeater might have given the young Krishnaji some drug that made him both sleepy and suggestible on the occasion of the “Initiation.” Radhika and I leaned to feeling that Leadbeater was an absolute charlatan. There was talk about the Ootacamund experience. Pupul and Nandini wanted to call a doctor, but Krishnaji refused. He said, “Both of you have had children. You can’t stop the baby from being born.” Pupul said that when she had returned to Bombay, on three nights running, she had gone to bed and felt death enclosing her as though in birth, and her body had fought back. It never came again. She also described the conversation in Asit’s flat in Bombay a few years ago when EXIT, the British society for suitable suicide, came up, and Nandini wouldn’t speak of it, rather emotionally.’
‘Krishnaji had then gone on about “cleansing” the apartment of a "presence". He then spoke of what he had done on the walk in the afternoon. He said he does and says certain things that he never was taught but has come upon it by himself. He asked Pupul if she knew a “real mantra,” and she and Radhika spoke of a mandala, which means a protected space. Radhika said that she uses what she calls “alertness” as a protection. Krishnaji said he would have difficulty in walking from here, the old guest house, to her house in the dark.’
‘Once in Ashdown Forest’—that’s in England—‘he had a bad time at night. When he had been speaking of his young days, there came into the room that curious atmosphere that so many times has seemed to appear when something innately concerned with him and his origins is discussed. “Do you feel the atmosphere?” he asked. Even Radhika said that she felt it, but when we began to speak of evil, it vanished, and instantly Krishnaji spotted it. He said that to speak of evil invites it. That good attracts evil, that one shouldn’t discuss evil in a room but out of doors, and not at night. He said he has never discussed what he does to dispel evil but asked Radhika if she would want to know, bearing in mind that there is danger in it. She backed away, and said she wouldn’t ask. This morning, I asked him if the same offer was open to me. He thought for a moment and said, “No.” I asked if it was offered to Radhika because she must protect this place. “Yes,” and that I would want it only to protect him, and something larger is protecting him. One cannot protect oneself. He said also that I am not always sufficiently, deeply attentive, and therefore it would be dangerous for me to know these things. That is something I must ponder. He said I must not get mixed up in these things. I said I was not interested in occult things, was not afraid. But he said the danger would be “if it gets into my mind without my realizing it,” so we left it at that. But he said that last night he had gone around and cleansed this whole house. The real protection is to be without anger, antagonism, envy, hatred, and self.’

December twenty-fourth. ‘Later yesterday we took what was planned as a long walk. Krishnaji is still exhilarated by having been able to walk to the mouth of the valley the other day, and seems rather pleased, as a child might, with his powers. So Dorothy was invited. “Can you stand a long walk?” she was asked, which arouses her mettle and also her wish not to be regarded by Krishnaji as old and enfeebled. Rita and Grohe, both long-distance walkers, Narayan, Radhika, and I went. The plan was the Tetu Road to where another branches to the right and joins the main road to the valley, if one can call it that. Passing the horrid temple, Krishnaji walked purposely, with a dominating stride around it, and told me later, “I have pulled its sting.” We turned right, where a wide road appears. The school van met us, but Krishnaji wanted to go on, so we walked as far as the village on the main road. He didn’t want to walk through that, so we all came back in the van. About his meeting with Mr. Naidu and his children, he told me that he had said to them, “Don’t hang onto it,” (the mother’s death) “finish with it.” This afternoon, we walked to look at a site where Grohe is going to build two cottages, one for his own use, and for a study ashram. He is enthusiastic about Rishi Valley. As a detail, he has just bought ten bicycles for the school. On the way back, we ran into Merali, who arrived a week ago but has been ill and invisible. This is Christmas Eve, and I had supper on trays with Krishnaji. Dr. Parchure came and gave his nightly massage to the swelling in my leg. Now, I can hear the students singing carols. “Oh Come All Ye Faithful” is energetically coming through the Indian night.’ ‘The stars are diamond bright and very close.’
The twenty-fifth. ‘I had breakfast alone with Krishnaji, and went to the teacher’s midmorning tea break. I called on Parameshwaram’s wife and packed. Dr. Parchure has diagnosed parasites.’ I guess I had parasites. ‘I walked with Krishnaji in the late afternoon, and had supper with him on trays.’ That was Christmas and Rishi Valley.
Boxing Day, the twenty-sixth. ‘I was up in time to leave at 4 a.m. with Krishnaji, Narayan, and Dr. Parchure in the usual Santhanam car. I felt carsick and had to stop and vomit somewhere or other on the dark road. I felt prostrate in the car trying to hold off nausea while Krishnaji all the way put his hands to help me. We arrived at Vasanta Vihar by 8:30 a.m., and I went right to bed. I slept and stayed in the room all day, though I felt better and able to unpack in the afternoon and put everything in order. Dr. Parchure gave me parasite pills to take for three days. Dorothy, Rita, Grohe, Dominique, and Yen Yang came in the school bus. The air conditioner I urged for Dorothy’s room is making a big difference for her.’ Dominique and Yen Yang were from Brockwood.
December twenty-seventh. ‘I felt better and got up, and went shopping with Rita and Dorothy to buy books for Krishnaji. Then slept in the afternoon and walked on the beach off Radha’s house in the late afternoon with Krishnaji, Pama, and Grohe. In the night, I decided not to stay in India till Krishnaji goes to Bombay but to go with Dorothy and Rita on January thirteen/fourteen. My spirits lightened. I’ve had enough of India.

This post was last updated by John Raica Sun, 23 Jun 2019.

(...) The twenty-eighth of December: ‘I went with Rita to Lufthansa, where I changed my ticket to fly out of Bombay early on the fourteenth, leaving here on Indian Airlines on Sunday the thirteenth. It rained in the afternoon, but between showers, I went with Krishnaji, Pama, and Grohe to the beach for our walk, as usual. Krishnaji’s optimism that the showers let up for the walk was correct. In the evening, news began of the counting of the election. Rajiv Gandhi is winning in a landslide.’
December the twenty-ninth. ‘It is Sunanda’s birthday, and I have given her a cotton sari she admired. The day was quiet and reasonably sunny, but just before 5:30 p.m., as we all sat in the garden waiting for Krishnaji’s public talk, a heavy shower suddenly plunged down. Krishnaji had not come out, luckily; but when he eventually did, he gave a strong, hard-hitting talk. The first of the Madras four. He came to the supper table later but scared me a bit by going out on the street for a walk by himself right after the talk. Luckily, Narayan saw him and caught up with him.’
The thirtieth of December. ‘Again, the day was quiet for the second talk, which Krishnaji was due to give at 5:30 p.m. The day had been damp as always, but reasonably sunny. Then at 5:30 p.m., this time, just after Krishnaji had sat upon the platform, rain began and then increased and then poured. The sky showed no hope of clearing and everyone was drenched. I had to change completely, and then went up to find Krishnaji in bed with a warm blanket and a hot water bottle. He had been intending to change into dry clothes and go back to give his talk, but Dr. Parchure had pointed out that the audience was soaked and would have had to sit in pools of water on the tarmac. So Krishnaji agreed to a cancellation. Many of us sat in the big hall and talked until supper time, when Krishnaji came down and we went to eat.’

December thirty-first. ‘I asked Krishnaji if his meditation has come to him here in India. He shook his head and said, “Too busy. One must be quiet for it to come.” There were showers on and off all day. All very unusual for this time of year, say the local people. I did letters. We were able to walk on the beach, though, Krishnaji, Radha, Pama, Grohe, and I. At 7 p.m., Grohe went off to the airport to fly back to Switzerland. He spent a long time talking to me about building in Rishi Valley and at Brockwood. He thinks it is “bon marché” to build in Rishi Valley, so he is financing two bungalows, one for his own use when he is there and one for Krishnaji, even though Krishnaji says he prefers the old quarters. And the balance needed to build an “ashram” or study. He seems to think I can expedite having all this done by next year. I went with Prema and him Saturday to see a local architect’s work, and also another house. But I had to point out that this is India’s project and I would be intruding. He is curiously impractical.
I recognize that I have other people’s efforts and concern lavished on me right now, but I do not expect it or contrive at it, and take nothing for granted. So this year is ending tonight, with hardly a mark of its passing. It is just a night. I have said goodnight to Krishnaji and say only to myself how extraordinary is the grace and wonder of another year with him.’ Signed MZ thirty-one December, 1984, Madras.

January first, 1985, we’re in Madras. ‘I went up early to start the day and the year with Krishnaji. A stubborn and determined rain gave no possibility of having the 7:30 a.m. question-and-answer meeting in the garden as usual, so everything took place in the big hall here at Vasanta Vihar. People kept piling in. Indians can fold themselves down into a few square inches of floor’ ‘Krishnaji spoke wonderfully with power, authority, and what was called “a presence.”
January second. ‘Ninety-six-year-old Madahvachari came to lunch. I remember him as a tall man, but he has shrunk. He seems to have outlived his faculties and his villainy.‘Beyond some age, one is no longer accountable (apparently) for one’s sins, but both Achyutji, who sat as far from him at the table as he could, and I remember that he betrayed Krishnaji to Rajagopal. Krishnaji was amiable to him and invited him to come again. But later coming back in the car from the beach walk, Krishnaji said how dreadful it is to live like that. I asked what choice Madahvachari had, and Krishnaji said he should “take a pill.”’ ‘What pill can one get? I pointed out.’ ‘Krishnaji seems to think that these lethal pills are available, so we muttered about ways of suicide all the way back to Vasanta Vihar. Krishnaji thinks a gun is too messy for the survivors, as is wrist cutting. ‘A pill and the plastic bag over the head that one hears of seemed the least offensive. Heavy rains made Krishnaji’s second question-and-answer meeting impossible in the garden, so again it was held in the Vasanta Vihar hall. Later I went with Sunanda and Parchure to look at two available halls for the talks if the rains continue. Both were dismal.’ ‘I slipped on the stone steps but only bruised my hands and hip. At 6:15 p.m. Lakshmi Shankar sang in Vasanta Vihar Hall—sad longing devotional songs.’ She sang beautifully.
January fourth. ‘There were showers on and off. I went to cash travel checks so I could give Dr. Parchure cash for fixing his cottage at Rajghat, and got some books for Krishnaji. To Krishnaji’s discomfort the rain held, so he gave the extra talk he agreed to give tonight, to replace the one that was rained out last Sunday, in the less crummy of the two halls, but crummy it was. It was a wedding place. And though he gave a good talk, it tired him because of the place. It was announced that the talks tomorrow and Sunday will be held at Vasanta Vihar and canceled if it rains. The drive past the slums along the beach disturbed him, as well they might. These sights make me want to never come to India again.’
The next day. ‘At 5:30 p.m. in clear weather, Krishnaji gave his third Madras talk in the Vasanta Vihar garden. Radhika, the Thomases, Vatsala Parchure, and others arrived for the talks from Rishi Valley in the school van. After the talk, I dined at Prema’s along with Sunanda, Radhika, Rebecca Thomas, Dorothy, Rita, Ahalya, and Malini, who at last had my new kurtas from her tailor. These were ordered in early November. Prema’s dinner was delicious, and the first enjoyable meal I have eaten in India.’ The sixth. ‘Pupul arrived in the afternoon. At 5:30 p.m. Krishnaji’s fourth Madras talk in Vasanta Vihar garden. Very fine.’

January seventh. ‘At 10 a.m., there was a KFI trustee meeting held upstairs. Asit arrived for it, and Dorothy, I, and Dr. Adikaram were invited.’ He was the head of the Sri Lankan Krishnamurti world, and a nice man. ‘I sat feeling that talk of more schools was mad. The shortage of teachers is constant. So is money. And most of all, the energy of those who do come for Krishnaji’s teachings is siphoned off into academics or supporting academics and the feeling for the teachings, the essential of what should concern us, is spread too thin. I said as much, but Pupul disagreed. She thinks there should be as many schools “as the ground of different human beings.” It seems to me we are all, for the most part, occupied with simply progressive, but usual, schools. On the beach walk, the India film people who were in Rishi Valley and are doing a documentary on Krishnaji were there to record his walk and also photographed him. When we got back, a seventeen-year-old musician, Ravi Kiran, played a rare instrument called gottuvadyam. It is said to be very hard to play. It is veena-like but without struts, and has twenty-one strings. The boy came with his father and younger brother and sister. At the end, when Krishnaji approached to thank them and present the usual garland, which Sunanda had waiting, the father and then the boy and then the younger ones prostrated themselves in the old total way: flat out, whole body and arms outstretched, touching Krishnaji’s feet, at which Krishnaji put his hands on either side of the prostrate head. It was, to me, very moving. The instant and intense fervor of it. Krishnaji was touched by it. “They are real Brahmins,” he said. This was the real, ancient prostration, the way he and Nitya prostrated themselves to their father when they came back after the years in Europe. I think Krishnaji was more impressed by the actions of the children and father then by the playing, but it had lasted one and a half hours, and it was by this time 8 o’clock, and he had had no supper and has been working, i.e., talking, for four straight days, plus a morning of KFI meeting. All much too much, and he is very tired.’

The eighth. Krishnaji is tired and spent the whole day resting in his room, reading, and sleeping. At 4:30 p.m. the rest of us went to the school in Damodar Gardens. Pupul spoke to the older students. There was tree planting, tea, and seeing children’s exhibits.’
January ninth. ‘At 9:30 a.m. there was a seminar in the Vasanta Vihar hall with Krishnaji, Pupul, Achyut, Sudarshan, Radha Burnier, and four scientists. The scientists were not versed in Krishnaji’s teachings, so most of the time went into defining terms and concepts, like self-knowledge being limited, brain, mind, time, etcetera. I doubt this sort of discussion is stimulating to Krishnaji, because it doesn’t get beyond his having to sort out and explain basics, and doesn’t go with him to explore new areas. Earlier, Krishnaji had said to me that there is so much division in the KFI that he’s not going to interfere. “Let them run it,” he said. I pointed out that this means a dictatorship by Pupul, and that he is perceived as being afraid of her. He finds her much more assertive these days. A case in point is Dr. Hiralal: Pupul is for him. Krishnaji doubts he is the right person to be a member of KFI. At 4 p.m. I went with Sunanda and Dorothy to tea at Ahalya’s in Besant House in the Theosophical Society compound. It is a nice, old-fashioned colonial-style building with verandas all around. After tea, Ahalya dropped me at Radha’s, where Krishnaji came for a beach walk. Before supper, Pupul showed Krishnaji, Sunanda, and me a letter found among Shiva Rao’s papers sent by Murli Rao, who had custody of them. The note is possibly in Krishnaji’s handwriting, though Krishnaji is not sure after looking at it. It is dated London, 10 October 1925, and purports to be from Maha Chohan to Krishnaji, though Krishnaji’s name is not specified, commending him for his work. Krishnaji has no recollection of it, and has no explanation to offer, though he said at one point that Leadbeater had invented the current concepts of the Masters. Pupul is spending Friday in the Theosophical Society archives with Radha. Pupul says there are some remarkable photographs there. I wondered if I could go with Pupul, but she said Radha is cagey about showing things. Pupul said she would share copies of anything she got. After supper, Dr. Parchure brought welcome reports that Krishnaji and I are now both free of parasites, but Krishnaji’s postprandial blood sugar is up to 175 since he stopped taking Rastinon medication. He must resume taking half a tablet a day, and then can eat any fruit he chooses.’
The tenth: ‘There was the second meeting at 9:30 a.m. of the two-day seminar. It went a little better. In the afternoon Krishnaji met Major Rakesh Sharma, the Indian astronaut who participated in a Russian space mission. He talked with him almost an hour, liked him, and invited him to come on the beach walk along with Radha, Dorothy, Pama, and me. Krishnaji had me walk and talk to Sharma. A very nice, intelligent, and easy-to-talk-to man. Likable.’ ‘Pandit Jagannath Upadhyaya arrived.’
The eleventh: ‘A large group left at 7 a.m. to go see Palamaner, and they got back at 10 p.m. I stayed here. Hours of sitting in a car and sun with the prospects of sitting in an aircraft ahead would not be the best thing for my leg, and I had no wish to go anyway. Krishnaji, Pupul, Sunanda, and Pandit Jagannath Upadhyaya, who arrived last night, and I had lunch. Krishnaji rested most of the day. I packed slowly. Krishnaji and I walked on the beach.’

January twelfth. ‘At 9:30 a.m. Krishnaji held a discussion in the hall with Upadhyaya, Pupul, Radha, Achyutji, and most others were onlookers. The long-winded Hindi of Upadhyaya and its translation, which often turned out to be, “The Buddha says etcetera, etcetera, etcetera” makes a fair amount of tedium. Krishnaji kept wordlessly catching my eye, and eventually he told Upadhyaya to leave aside what the Buddha said and say what he himself thought. Major Sharma was at lunch and Krishnaji put him through quite a questioning. Was he a Brahmin? Yes. With that background, what did he feel about being in the Air Force? Sharma said it troubled him. That he had not killed anyone, and did not intend to, but when he was seventeen years old, all he thought of was flying one of those marvelous machines without measuring the implications he now sees. Krishnaji was 'cooking' him a bit.’ ‘In late afternoon, Krishnaji, Radhika, who went to Palamaner yesterday and came here afterward, Radha, and I walked on the beach. For me it was the last walk. I am leaving tomorrow, and will put this depressing place away. Malini came by to say goodbye to me in the evening.’ .

January thirteen. ‘Krishnaji has worn my rings and rudraksha on the chain for two nights and gave them back to me this morning after walking to the window with them.’ He did something, magnetized, I believe the word is, jewelry. He did it for Mary Lutyens’s ring, and he’d done it for other people in the past, and so he took the things that I wear, which were just listed, to do this mysterious thing to them before I left with them. It was considered protective.
Mary Lutyens always swore, because he would wear her ring over lunch at Fortnum’s, that afterward the ring had extra luster and shone in a far greater way than before. But what she thought she saw was confirmed when a grandchild of hers said to her, “Oh you’ve had your ring cleaned!”
Spontaneously the grandchild said that, but it was just that Krishnaji had worn it over lunch at Fortnum’s. So Mary believed what she thought she had always seen. Anyway. ‘It is painful to leave Krishnaji as always. He and I spoke briefly, then Dorothy and I left at 9:30 a.m., just before Krishnaji was to hold another discussion with Upadhyaya, and the others. Everyone was on the veranda to say goodbye, Krishnaji folding his hands in what, to me, was a blessing. Pama came with us to the airport, which was a help in the steaming confusion of crowds and luggage. Dorothy and I landed in Bombay at 1 p.m. and were met by a Lufthansa woman who took us and our luggage to the Centaur Hotel in the airport where Lufthansa had provided each of us with a free room in which to rest until our midnight check-in. Rita, who has been in Goa for three days, arrived around 5 p.m. Then came Bakul and Devi, bringing home-cooked things.’ That’s Nandini’s daughter, Devi Mangaldas. ‘Nandini was unable to come because of a reaction to taking penicillin. I spoke to her on the telephone. Five of us ate in the room I had, ordering some things from room service, too. Then they left and I slept till awakened at 11:45 p.m. We went at midnight to the international air terminal where Dorothy, Rita, and I took a 2 a.m. Lufthansa flight out of India. I was still on first-class tickets and had the best forward seat with no one next to me. I was able to sleep on and off.’

The fourteenth of January. ‘We landed at Frankfurt at 7 a.m. I am out of India, and back in Europe in a huge gray airport. Rita led the way to where we waited for an 8:15 a.m. flight to Heathrow. Lufthansa gave us two breakfasts. Real coffee, croissants, and French confiture seemed tremendous treats.’‘Then around 11 a.m. there was England in snow—a charcoal drawing landscape, Northern, utterly un-tropical, and wonderful. With only a silk shirt and cardigan, I welcomed the cold as one might reach toward sunlight.’ ‘Guy and Montague met and then took Dorothy to Brockwood, and Harsh, with my duffel coat and his car, drove me there. All is snow!’
The driveway, everything is white. The students have built a huge snowman. My room is warm through two heaters. The melting comfort of a bath, getting completely clean, and then eating salad and finally one’s own linen-sheeted bed was overwhelming.’

January fifteenth: ‘I slept deeply and well, and feel physically back in balance. Food and air and their cleanliness. The cold is healing. I had a slow, relaxed, quiet breakfast after doing exercises and washing my hair. The quiet of our little kitchen, and cleaning the toaster and kettle, were a pleasure. I talked to Mary Cadogan at some length, also Betsy, and later Phyl Fry. I went for a walk in the grove with snow falling on my face. Rabbit tracks were everywhere. The snow was crisp, and carpets everything. The leaves of the rhododendron are curled in the cold. The handkerchief tree is bare and sleeping.’

February first. ‘Again an early walk. Erna came with me to the meeting about the case with Cohen and Avsham’—that’s Rajagopal’s lawyer—‘at Cohen’s office from 10 a.m. till almost noon.’
The most notable thing over the next two days is that Krishnaji’s first two Bombay talks occurred. In fact, I don’t think there is anything worth mentioning until February sixth, when Krishnaji’s second letter arrived, written in Madras from January twentieth until the thirtieth, and Shakuntala, who was visiting from Brockwood, came to supper.
February seventh. ‘Again, I had an early walk and spent most of the day at my desk. Friedrich came by. He’s marrying Magda Sichitiu on Saturday and has bought a house in Ojai.
February ninth:  Friedrich and Magda are married in Santa Barbara, and Erna and Theo were their witnesses. Krishnaji gave this third talk in Bombay.’
The next day was Krishnaji’s fourth Bombay talk. I’m trying to avoid the details.

February twelfth: ‘At 7 a.m. I telephoned Brockwood, but Krishnaji’s plane was three-and-a-half hours late leaving Bombay, so he wasn’t there yet. I had breakfast with Philippa and Amanda. We all saw a whale. Then I drove to town to see Miranda and John at their apartment on Holt Street. I had a long talk with John. Then, on my credit card, I rang Brockwood again and this time spoke to Krishnaji. His voice was clear as the mountain spring.’ ‘There was snow at Brockwood. Asit flew with him. I went to Tassell’—that’s a designer—‘and bought three things and also bought a Sony Walkman. Had my teeth cleaned. Drove back to Ojai. It is a blessing that Krishnaji is halfway home.’
The thirteenth: ‘Birthday calls’—it was my birthday—‘from my brother, Betsy, Rita Zampese, and Winky. I spent the day doing desk work and cleaning silver after an early walk. A letter from Pascaline Mallet saying that Gizelle Questiau died in a car accident. She had just become president of L’Association CulturelleKrishnamurti.’ That’s the Krishnamurti organization in France.

February seventeenth: ‘Krishnaji’s TWA flight 761, which was due at 2:05 p.m., arrived at 2:56 p.m. I left Ojai at 10:30 a.m. And arrived at the airport in time. Krishnaji came out quickly, because of the wheelchair, with Asit and luggage. Krishnaji came with me, and Asit went with David and Jack. Krishnaji wanted to go the quiet way by the sea, so again, we came through Malibu Canyon and along the beach with the yellow flowers in bloom.’ ‘Krishnaji and I had supper alone.’
February eighteenth: ‘Krishnaji, Asit, and I had breakfast by the stove.’ That’s in the dining room. ‘Krishnaji talked to Erna, Theo, and me in the morning, and then he spent the rest of the day in bed with lunch on a tray. I went over to Arya Vihara. Shakuntala was there. Asit went out with Michael, so Krishnaji and I had supper on trays, and Krishnaji resumed his on-and-off all-day sleep.’
February nineteenth: ‘I had an early walk. Krishnaji got up when I went out, and unpacked the rest of his bag. He later came to lunch at Arya Vihara. Shakuntala was there before leaving for Brockwood. Krishnaji slept in the afternoon. I telephoned my brother on his sixty-first birthday. He and Lisa leave tomorrow for Paris and India, returning March fifteenth. Krishnaji and I had supper alone.’
February twentieth: ‘I had another early walk. Krishnaji stayed in bed and slept all morning and most of the afternoon.’February twenty-sixth: ‘I went on a walk at 6:15 a.m. Later, at 10 a.m., Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and I met Mr. Cohen at his office. We reviewed Rajagopal’s offer, then returned for lunch at Arya Vihara. I got a video membership at the video shop, and got a video movie for Krishnaji to look at.’
on March first, ‘At 10 a.m. we began a KFA meeting that lasted all day. Krishnaji didn’t walk. Cohen wants to see us Monday about further progress in a settlement.’
The next day, ‘At 11 a.m. Krishnaji spoke to teachers. We lunched at Arya Vihara. After his rest, Krishnaji walked to the Lilliefelts’ and Theo drove him back.’
The fourth of March: ‘Krishnaji, I, and the Lilliefelts went at 10 a.m. to see Mr. Cohen about further discussion between him and Rajagopal’s lawyer, Avsham. We agreed with what Cohen had said. Krishnaji gave me a durable power of attorney. We had lunch at Arya Vihara. Milton Friedman came.’ Milton Friedman was not the famous economist of the same name, but he was a man who lived in Washington and he did speechwriting for Gerald Ford or something. He was interested in Krishnaji, and we made him a trustee, eventually, but he never came to a meeting.
The next four days is mostly Krishnaji resting. He says he is tired and “washed out.”
March ninth: ‘At 11 a.m. Krishnaji held a discussion with the Oak Grove teachers. He was tired in the afternoon and slept. He walked to the Lilliefelts’ and Theo drove him back.’
Then there isn’t much for the next three days but Krishnaji resting and who came for lunch.The thirteenth of March: ‘Over lunch at Arya Vihara, there was talk of a TV film last night on child prodigies, and we talked of Krishnaji’s childhood. Krishnaji wants to have me, Erna, and Theo question him on tape.’
The fourteenth. . Lunch at Arya Vihara included the Grohes. Krishnaji watched Topaz, an old film on video, in the afternoon. Then he met Theo and walked down Grand Avenue. After returning the video to the store, I picked them up near the bottom of Grand Avenue and drove them back. In the evening we watched a TV show of Sherlock Holmes.’
The fifteenth of March: ‘At 10 a.m. Krishnaji talked with Erna, Theo, and me about his life, which we taped on cassette. Incorporating what he’d learned this winter from Pandit Upadhyaya. It is to be a private recording. Lunched at Arya Vihara. ’
March twenty-first: ‘We had an early lunch at noon. Then Krishnaji and I went to Doctor Deutsch in Santa Paula for Krishnaji’s first meeting with him and an exam. Krishnaji’s blood sugar, postprandial, was 85. My EKG is okay. “Lovely country,” said Krishnaji on the drive back. Krishnaji walked with Theo.’
The twenty-second: ‘Krishnaji and I left at 9 a.m. and drove via Malibu to Beverly Hills for eye exams by Doctor Fox. Both of us were mostly unchanged except Krishnaji, who has a bit of a cataract in his left eye and the beginning of one in the right eye, but neither interfere with his sight. We lunched with Evelyne Blau at her house—Japanese food. We bought croissants later and a clock for the kitchen. Home after 6 p.m.’
March twenty-third: ‘Asit’s book of photographs, A Thousand Moon Krishnamurti 85, arrived. It seemed very well done. At 11 a.m. Krishnaji talked to the teachers, lunched at Arya Vihara, then we had a quiet afternoon.’
The twenty-fourth of March: ‘In the morning I worked at the desk and made lunch for Krishnaji, who is spending the day in bed. At noon, I went to the school and a meeting.’ It doesn’t say what kind of meeting.
March twenty-five: ‘Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and I went to Cohen’s office at 11 a.m. about the text of a settlement with Rajagopal. Radha Burnier was at lunch at Arya Vihara.’
The twenty-seventh. ‘There was rain, so I didn’t do the early walk. At 4 p.m. the actor Anthony Perkins came to see Krishnaji. Krishnaji walked to the Lilliefelts’. We had supper at 6:30 p.m. A new schedule.’
The next day. ‘I worked most of the morning at the desk, apart from taking Krishnaji at 10 a.m. for a haircut here in Ojai. Evelyne telephoned about questions for tomorrow. Radha came to lunch at Arya Vihara.’

There is nothing worth reporting for the next couple of days. Krishnaji is still resting but also still seeing people. The only thing to report is that on April second, ‘Krishnaji watched a TV program about organized religion and said, “We’ve lost.”’ ‘Krishnaji talked with Moody and again with Rupert Oysler at 4 p.m. He says he is tired and his head is causing it.’

April eighth. We left Ojai early, David and Vivian Moody taking us to Los Angeles Airport in the school’s small van because of our three bags. Krishnaji and I took and 8:30 a.m. TWA flight to New York. This time trying business class instead of first, but with bulkhead seats, so that my bad leg could be raised on it.’ I could prop it up on it, I mean. ‘We read and slept and reached New York by 4:30 p.m., taxied into town and to the Dorset Hotel, where we again have Suite 1507, which Krishnaji likes and is used to. We unpacked and had an uninspiring room service supper. Krishnaji, who had had little sleep before leaving yesterday, took half of the half-tablet of Halcion prescribed by our new Dr. Deutsch, i.e., one quarter of a tablet of .25 milligrams, and it gave him an excellent night’s sleep with no aftereffect. We were quiet all morning. Then we went to Il Nido, where we gave lunch to Narasimhan. Being Monday, it was quiet there and we had a very good lunch. First course: shredded real mozzarella’ ‘and cold roasted peppers with basil leaves and capers. Main course: two kinds of spaghettini, i.e., one with tomato sauce and one with pesto. Arugula salad. Fresh raspberries for dessert. We walked to Doubleday for books and around the IBM building, where we both enjoyed the indoor hall with bamboo trees and large tubs of flowering plants. Krishnaji appreciates the taste of it, and it increased his approval of IBM as a provider of excellence.’ ‘It was cold and we came back to supper again in our rooms. I spoke to my brother, who has returned from the Vineyard. Earlier I had spoken to Mister Roy at the U.N. and the video man there, Mr. Blotsky. We can only have one camera and a three-quarter-inch video on Thursday, but can use it as we please. We had supper in our rooms. I spoke with Philippa on the phone.’
April ninth: ‘I scuttled up to the 57th Street health food store for miscellaneous. Then Krishnaji and I again went to Il Nido, where the Shainbergs lunched with us. Catherine De Segonzac and David are now married. They seem happy, though, and pleased to be married. Both have a tendency to jump to their own opinions without listening to what Krishnaji is saying. We walked back. Krishnaji and I stopped at the Belgian shoe place.’ It is still cold in New York. We had supper in the rooms on the very limited vegetarian possibilities.’
April eleventh. ‘Patricia Hunt-Perry came to the hotel at noon. Daisy followed, then Bud with his car, and we all drove with Krishnaji to the U.N. where he was to speak at 1:15 p.m., again at the invitation of the Pacem in Terris committee.’ That’s that organization within the UN. ‘The requested topic was “Beyond the Fortieth Anniversary of the U.N.: The Future for Peace.” A Mr. Mark Roy has succeeded Doctor Robert Muller as head of Pacem in Terris, and both were present, sitting on the platform on either side of Krishnaji when he finally spoke. Confusion seems endemic in the U.N., and the conference hall number four was still occupied by another meeting when we arrived, and Krishnaji had to wait. Bud, Daisy, and I found an empty conference room where he could at least be away from the confusion until about 1:30 p.m., when he was able to speak. Evelyne was up in a booth where it was videotaped, so we have a useful record of his eloquent talk and responses to questions afterward. The questions were dumb and obvious, but his answers had an air of greatness, an absolute authority of vision that made me smile way inside at that extraordinary and totally undimmed power. They gave him a small silver medal, which is their peace award. And we got out of there swiftly.’ He forgot the 'Peace Award', left it on the table. ‘We got out of there swiftly with Bud and Daisy and I went uptown to a late and quiet lunch at Bud’s apartment. “No more U.N. That’s that,” said Krishnaji. ‘Krishnaji and I returned to the hotel, where we eventually had supper in the rooms. He heard me say on the telephone to Phyllis Lutyens that I was seventy. “Seventy, you’re seventy?” he said.’ ‘“My god.” He began laughing at me, at the two of us at our ages. “I will probably live another ten years and that will be enough, but you must live another fifteen.”’ That was in, 1985.
April twelfth. ‘We left the hotel at 9:30 a.m. and went by taxi to LaGuardia for an 11 a.m. TWA flight to Washington. Milton Friedman met us at the national airport and drove us in his 300D Turbo Mercedes, which caught Krishnaji’s eye,’ ‘to the Watergate Hotel. One room, number 1410, which has a kitchenette and doors dividing the bed area from the sitting room, was ready. So we left the luggage there, and all three went down to lunch. Milton then left, and Krishnaji moved into the second room, 1401, across the hall.
‘Both of us liked the great height of the Watergate building both inside and out. In the late afternoon, we went over to the Kennedy Center and looked at the concert hall where Krishnaji will speak. We came back to supper in the room.’
The thirteenth of April. ‘Milton Friedman brought a friend, Gail Hamilton, and drove us out into Maryland to lunch at a Chinese restaurant. We came back through woods that Krishnaji found beautiful. “I could live here,” he said. Then, back in Washington, we went to the Lincoln Memorial. Policemen let us drive close to where only buses are allowed because we had a ninety-year-old man in the car. And then Krishnaji and I climbed up the steps of the monument. “Look up as you go. See, it is like the Parthenon. See those corners of the roof. It is just like the Parthenon,” he said looking at the huge statue. People were climbing, shouting there, but not really looking at the statue. “They have no respect,” said Krishnaji. “They don’t have the feeling of respect.” I would have liked to go across to the Vietnam Memorial, but the crowds were too great. Milton drove us past the White House and the surrounding government buildings. I was rather glad to see the White House looked like a house, an American house, and not a palace. We came back to the hotel. Of Lincoln, Krishnaji said, “I could have cried, and while we were there I did what I do to the room.” He referred to what he does at night to the house in Ojai, waiting till I’ve gone ahead into the bedroom. He stands in what he says is the center, i.e., the front hall, and I never pry but go ahead to my bedroom. He would not do it in front of me, but if I understand it, it is something that protects. And if for some reason I have to go back into that part of the house, it undoes what he has done, and he must do it anew. This perhaps is related to his doing something to rooms in hotels or the hospitals we’ve been in. Cleansing and protecting.’ Krishnaji was very moved by Lincoln. ‘We had supper in the room, and he took a quarter of a Halcion, which gives him excellent sleep and no side effect.’ And then he told me that I must do it when he wasn’t there. But he didn’t say how. He never said how for such things.
April fourteenth. ‘Quiet day but we went down to lunch in the hotel where there was a buffet and he was able to get enough vegetables. We talked about the Lincoln Memorial yesterday, and I asked him what he considered was the human impulse of worship—not necessarily of an image, not part of belief, but simply a feeling of worship. He said respect, devotion, worship were all toward something outer, even if not defined. Outer means division. To see without movement is without division. In that, there is no I, no self. That perception is the action of change because it is without movement. We rested and later walked along the river, then had supper in the room. .
April fifteenth. ‘At 10 a.m., Friedman brought the Washington Post man, Michael Kernan, to do an interview for the paper. A nice man, Krishnaji thought. The photographer, named Chevalier, took photos. Krishnaji and I lunched downstairs.’ I think we never got copies of those photos. ‘I had the hotel put kitchen equipment in my room, and I bought food in the Safeway store downstairs. At 4 p.m., Friedman brought from The Voice of America a man and an Iranian, Miss Feresteh, to record an interview for broadcast. Afterward, Krishnaji asked the man if he could use all that he said, and they replied, “We never censor.” We walked along the river later and then I was able to give Krishnaji a proper supper of fat, fresh asparagus, soup, an omelet, and brie.’ There were little kitchens in these places.
The sixteenth.: ‘At 11 a.m. a Robert Aubry Davis came to do a radio interview with Krishnaji for FM 91. He brought his seven-year-old daughter, a delicate, polite little girl who wanted to meet Krishnaji and brought him a poem. He greeted her gravely, smilingly, and she sat listening to it all as her father asked Krishnaji about education in Krishnamurti schools. She said shyly that she understood most of what he was saying. Krishnaji kissed her hand in saying goodbye, and she reached up and kissed his cheek.’ ‘In the car she told Milton she liked Mr. Krishnamurti very much, and Mrs. Krishnamurti was very nice.’ ‘Her poem was remarkable. The parents teach her at home. She is an only child. Perhaps that is how, in this shocking world, to protect a gifted child.’ ‘Lois Hobson was interested and interesting at lunch, though all our conversation was on the shoddiness of today’s society. Later Krishnaji and I walked along the river and had supper in the rooms.’
April seventeenth. ‘My stepsister, Ann Deford, came to lunch with Krishnaji and me in the hotel dining room. It was good to see her again. She is very much herself: the blond hair grown gray, the hands are gnarled by age, as mine are, but she is still slim, upright, and the same laugh that is so McAdoo, the same amusements at life, and sensibleness. It is nice to meet on the same friendly footing, though the years have passed. Krishnaji said, “A nice lady.” At 4:30 Milton Friedman brought a Mr. and Mrs. Paul Temple to tea. She is a friend of his, and he a vastly wealthy man “interested in consciousness and healing,” but rooted in Christianity from some “experience.” Milton Friedman rather hoped Temple would donate to the Krishnamurti Foundation, but Krishnaji doesn’t cater to the Orthodox questions, and I didn’t see any meeting in the one-and-a-half to two hours of the visit. Krishnaji gave o
On April eighteenth, and Krishnaji and I are still in Washington, DC. ‘Michael Kernan, who interviewed Krishnaji on Monday, wrote a very good article which appeared in the Washington Post this morning. He came with Milton Friedman to lunch with us in the hotel dining room at 12:15 p.m. He is a nice man, and Krishnaji likes him. He may come to Ojai. Milton Friedman then drove Krishnaji, me, and Evelyne to the capital, where, in his Senate office, Senator Claiborne Pell gave a tea at 3 p.m. for Krishnaji. He introduced Krishnaji to about forty or fifty people and then asked an opening question on what is the cause of conflict. Krishnaji spoke with relaxed authority, handling mostly rather obvious questions with his accustomed skill. It lasted an hour, and then Milton Friedman guided us to the rotunda where Krishnaji wanted to look up at the dome. We drove back past the I. M. Pei addition to the National Gallery, which I wanted to see.’ I wanted to go in because I like I. M. Pei’s work.

April twentieth. ‘At 2:30 p.m., Krishnaji gave his first talk there in the Kenney Center concert hall. It was a large audience. The sound was not clear, and I was roaming about, as was Theo, trying to do something about it. Erna and Theo came by later to say that the sound problem was due to the lavalier microphone and that tomorrow there will be a standing microphone. The four of us walked along the river. Krishnaji and I ate alone in the room.’

The twenty-first of April. ‘At 11 a.m. Lois Hobson again drove us to the Kennedy Center where, with excellent sound, Krishnaji gave a marvelous talk. A triumph. The hall was sold out. All the books, 500 of them, were sold, and 196 copies of Asit’s book, A Thousand Moons, were also sold. We walked back to the hotel. Bud, Lisa, and Laurie’—that is one of Bud’s children—‘lunched with us in the hotel dining room. At 5 p.m. Milton Friedman brought a Mr. Silverstone and another younger reporter who did interviews of Krishnaji for the United Press International. This lasted one and a half hours. I made some vegetable something, and we had supper in the room. We both had packed during the day.’ Krishnaji’s Washington trip was exceedingly successful.
April twenty-second. ‘We left the Watergate Hotel at 7 a.m. and took a taxi to Dulles Airport. Krishnaji was delighted by the trees and the countryside, and he liked the quiet airport. The captain saluted him in the traditional namaste way and let him see the cockpit. The American Airline flight 77 left at 8:45 a.m. We had seats 1A and 1B in the forward first class. The bulkhead seats.’ Those are the single ones; the ones we like because I could put my foot up on the bulkhead. He didn’t. And nobody is next to you. ‘It was a good, smooth flight to Los Angeles. We arrived at 11 a.m., and David and Vivian met us and we drove home along the beach to Ojai. Our roses were in fullest bloom. I made lunch for Krishnaji and me, and talked to Amanda. Then I went marketing, made supper, and so we are happily home again.’
The twenty-third of April: ‘It was a beautiful morning. I picked roses and did laundry. Erna and Theo flew back from Washington in time for lunch, which Michael cooked at Arya Vihara after which I opened piles of mail.’
The twenty-fourth. ‘I went on an early walk with Erna. Krishnaji recorded a cassette addressing Rajagopal. We lunched at Arya Vihara. In the afternoon Erna and Theo heard the tape and we discussed the text of the statement to be made by Krishnaji as part of a settlement in the case. In the early morning I spoke to Philippa and later to Amanda on her return from birding.’ She was a bird-watcher and went with friends looking at birds.
April twenty-fifth. ‘After an early lunch, Krishnaji and I drove to Santa Paula where he saw Dr. Deutsch at 2:30 p.m. Krishnaji’s blood sugar was 112. Krishnaji talked to him about healing. We came home via Dieter’s and inquired about the Mercedes models to come.’

April twenty-seventh. I am going on early walks every morning, so I won’t keep mentioning it. ‘At 10 a.m. there was a trustee meeting, which lasted all day. After it, Krishnaji, Friedrich, and I discussed the new buildings in Rishi Valley, which Friedrich was financing. Krishnaji walked down to Erna and Theo’s while I made supper. He is disturbed by the amount of desk work I have and wants me to dictate letters. “You must not wear yourself out. As long as I live, you are with me and you must be able to look after me. You are always busy, never quiet.” It was always a conundrum for me of how to get things done without appearing to be doing anything.
The thirtieth. Sidney Field came to lunch at Arya Vihara. Krishnaji rested most of the afternoon except for a talk with David Moody. Krishnaji’s stomach is bothering him. He says he has trouble swallowing, and that the food in Washington upset him.’
The first of May. ‘Krishnaji and I drove at 9 a.m. to Beverly Hills. Krishnaji said, “I want to teach you meditation.” Definition of 'austerity'. It was a conversation. ‘He saw Dr. Fox at 11 a.m. for a field of vision test. There’s no change from last year.
‘We had a picnic in the car on a shady street and then to a luggage store. Krishnaji had me buy a suitcase at Vuitton and then to the health food store, Lindbergh’s. We were home by 6 p.m. Krishnaji’s stomach is alright.’

May sixth.. At 11:30 a.m. Krishnaji was interviewed for the Los Angeles Times by Allen Parachini.’
The next day, ‘Krishnaji dictated letters, and I typed them. Krishnaji saw Alfonso Colon at 4:30 p.m.’

May tenth. ‘I was awake very early and worked at my desk. Later in the morning, I drove to Malibu and lunched with Amanda and Phil. Then I went on to the airport to meet Rita Zampese, due at 1:30 p.m. She finally emerged at 3 p.m., and we drove to Ojai and Arya Vihara, where she is staying. I was later than expected in returning, which made Krishnaji think something had happened to me, which made him very nervous. Meanwhile, Pupul and Mr. Jose, her secretary, had arrived from New York. I made supper for Krishnaji and Pupul. I was in bed with lights out at 9 p.m. This was an eighteen-hour day.’
The eleventh of May. ‘Whether today is Krishnaji’s ninetieth birthday or tomorrow depends on whether you count days in the traditional Indian way in which the date changes at 4 a.m., or the Western way, for which the date changes at midnight. Krishnaji was born at 12:30 a.m. on what we would call May twelfth, but which traditional India says is still the eleventh. Either way, ninety has no meaning except as an astounding statistic. I heard him starting his day at 5:45 a.m. He had slept well in spite of the agitation last night when I returned to Ojai later than Krishnaji expected and he thought of motor accidents. He had made tea for Pupul, who had arrived, and Mr. Jose from New York.’ Krishnaji making tea, I can visualize it. Pupul told me she didn’t know how to heat water on the stove.
‘Krishanji made tea for Pupul, who had arrived with Mr. Jose from New York, but he was so upset his hands shook so much he could not carry the teacup. I felt sick at upsetting him, especially as his talks begin today. He has lately been hypercritical, saying I’m not totally ordered within. He is bothered by my falling behind at the desk work, being too busy, and not paying attention, but he was calm this morning, having slept well. He now takes a crumb of halcyon, one quarter of a tablet prescribed for sleep by Dr. Deutsch. I wonder if it is good every night. But sleep is necessary through the talks. He gave the first Ojai one in the Grove at 11:30 a.m. It was a bright morning early, but it turned cloudy and very cool for the big crowd. KCET had a crew videotaping it for a program they will broadcast later on.’ KCET were headquartered in San Francisco, and they came down to tape the talk. ‘We had lunch at Arya Vihara with Pupul, Mr. Jose, Grohe, and Magda’s daughter, Rukmini, Kishbaugh and Stella—they plan to marry in June—Rita Zampese, Theo, and Michael. We both napped in the afternoon. I made supper for Krishnaji, Pupul, and me on trays as usual. Pupul described finding at Adyar in the Theosophical Society archives, which Radha let her examine, a letter from Nitya to Mrs. Besant describing much more about Krishnaji’s pepper tree events: the child entity talking to his (dead) mother, describing “they” working on his body, cleaning his eyes so that he could “see,” and his telling some entity “beyond the wall” to go away. Krishnaji seemed to understand what this meant, and admonished Pupul and me not to inquire too far into esoteric things because if you open the door to that, you also open the door to “what is beyond the wall.”’ ‘After Pupul left he said severely to me, “You must have no disorder because of that beyond the wall.” He found it extraordinary that the guru of Upadhyaya’s guru, Vishudhananat, apparently had told Mrs. Besant that there was to be a manifestation of the Maitreya, and later told Upadhyayaji’s guru that Krishnaji was that manifestation.’
May twelfth. ‘The morning was a clear beginning of summer. Krishnaji at ninety is as beautiful as ever, in some ways more so. The lines are more finely drawn. He had slept well. I fetched the Sunday papers and had breakfast ready for him and Pupul when she came over. She went ahead with the Lilliefelts, then Krishnaji and I drove slowly to the Grove, where he gave his second talk. After lunch at Arya Vihara, he, both Grohes, Pupul, and I went over plans that Pupul brought from Radhika for the new Rishi Valley buildings that Grohe was financing. There was considerable confusion.’
May thirteenth. ‘Pupul left after breakfast for Los Angeles, London, and India. I did laundry and sorted out questions for tomorrow’s meeting. The Colons brought Mr. and Mrs. Ugo Baldi to see Krishnaji at 4 p.m.’
The next day. ‘Krishnaji was awake early. He didn’t have enough sleep, but at 11:30 Krishnaji held the first question-and-answer meeting in the Oak Grove. It was a hot day. Krishnaji, Erna, Theo, and I talked a bit. We had supper by 6:30 p.m. and were in bed by 8:30 p.m.’
May fifteenth. ‘Krishnaji was awake early, and again did not have enough sleep. He dictated letters about the proposed new buildings in Rishi Valley and Grohe’s donations.’
The sixteenth. ‘At 11:30 a.m. Krishnaji held the second question-and-answer meeting in the Oak Grove. We lunched afterward with the Hookers at the Ranch House Restaurant. The Lilliefelts and Rita Zampese were also there. Krishnaji’s stomach ached in the evening. A hot pad and Perrier water helped.’
May seventeenth. ‘I woke up at 2 a.m., got up at 3 a.m., and worked at the desk. Krishnaji is feeling better but he is tired. Krishnaji dictated to me a tentative letter to Rajagopal. Austin Bee brought an envelope with a statement Rajagopal wants Krishnaji to sign.
May eighteenth. ‘I was up early again and worked at my desk. At 11:30 a.m. Krishnaji gave the third Ojai talk on beauty and love. It was a deeply moving talk to a large crowd. We lunched at Arya Vihara. His stomach hurt a little in the morning but subsided.’
The nineteenth. ‘Krishnaji gave this fourth talk in the Oak Grove to a huge crowd. Miranda and John joined me, sitting in the back, and came to Arya Vihara for lunch afterward. Krishnaji talked to Miranda at the table. “I like that girl,” he said. Later he told me once again, “You must outlive me so you can look after me. After that you can follow me.”’
May twentieth. ‘At 10 a.m., we met Stanley Cohen about the “Statement of Intent” brought by Austin Bee. Cohen amended it and Krishnaji signed it. Cohen has had shingles, and Krishnaji put his hands on him. Donald Ingram-Smith was at Arya Vihara for lunch. Krishnaji was tired from the Oxnard trip. He said I must pay more attention to the way I sit, to my health, etcetera. He slept and later walked to the Lilliefelts’ while I made supper.’
The next day. ‘Krishnaji is very tired. He ate breakfast but felt sick to his stomach, so he refused lunch. He fainted in bed, but was better by suppertime and ate lightly.
The twenty-second. Ex-Governor Jerry Brown brought a friend, Jacques Barzaghi, to lunch. Krishnaji talked for over an hour with both of them back at the cottage and later went with Theo to the Oak Grove to show where he wanted the fencing to be put.’

May twenty fourth. ‘At 2:50 a.m. Krishnaji collided with the table near his bed and fell, hitting his left hip and scraping his leg. I heard it and came rushing in, put a dressing on his leg, and he slept again till 6 a.m. He was alright and we finished packing.’ He only very rarely got confused when he got up in the night. In other words, he walked to the window instead of the bathroom, where he probably wanted to go. ‘We had an early lunch at Arya Vihara, and then Mark Lee drove Krishnaji, me, and Friedrich to the airport, where we took TWA 760 at 5:40 p.m. to London. He had one of the front seats, but I didn’t. He slept some on the flight.’
The twenty-fifth. ‘We landed at Heathrow at noon. There was a wheelchair for Krishnaji, which got us out in record time
May twenty-sixth. ‘Krishnaji slept deeply and so did I. Dr. Parchure gave him massage, which did him great good, so he was up for lunch. The Bohms were there. ‘Later Krishnaji, Dorothy, and I walked through the grove and around the fields.’
May twenty-ninth. ‘An architect came for lunch. And another, Keith Critchlow, came to tea. After meeting Critchlow, Krishnaji said he feels “he is our man” to design the study center. We all felt this.’ Now, let’s see if that’s the time when he drew that extraordinary thing, but I want to expand on that when we come to it.
The next day, ‘Krishnaji dictated letters onto cassettes, and at 4 p.m. Dana (or Diana) Marshall interviewed Krishnaji for the Sunday Times.
May thirty-first. ‘ Krishnaji said, “It is essential to uncover what self-interest is not. But it’s quite easy to observe when   self-interest is.”
The first of June. At 4 p.m. Krishnaji was interviewed by Duncan Fallowell for Harper’s and Queen magazine. It took an hour and a half.’
The second June: ‘I fetched Prema Srinivasan at the Petersfield station. Krishnaji held a videotaped discussion with four students at noon. At 2 p.m. there was a film of comments by a painter named Collins.’ I think that was just a film that was shown, but I’m not sure. ‘
The third of June. ‘Krishnaji and I went to London on the 10:46 a.m. Joe met us at Waterloo and took us to Huntsman. I took the tweed coat back to Hilliard’s and returned a sweater to Ferragamo. Krishnaji and I walked to Fortnum’s and lunched with Mary, then Krishnaji had a haircut at Truefitt while I walked to Culpepper to get him skullcap herb, prescribed by Amanda Pallandt for nerve improvement for Krishnaji’s shaky hands. We bought books at Hatchards and came home.’
That Krishnaji told the architect what he wanted in the study center building. And then Krishnaji immediately said, “Now sir, how will you do it?” As though you think of all of it…and then he presented that astonishing thing, which I’m waiting to describe. He drew the…human figure in a lotus position. I can remember that he started on the page, I can still see him doing it—he took the figure, which was seen from above, and he made lines, lines, lines. He just made it into the shape of a building, and it is the shape of the building he built.

June sixth. ‘At noon, Krishnaji spoke to all the staff. In the afternoon we walked, Grohe too, around the block. Then Krishnaji spoke with Shakuntala and Natasha. Krishnaji said, “This is not a (true ?) prophecy. When it happens I can’t predict, but I feel I should last another ten years.”’
June ninth. ‘Krishnaji recorded a videotaped discussion with four students, similar to last Sunday’s. At 4 p.m. he gave an interview to a Ms. Ann Baguely. I talked to all eight of staff about who should be the coordinator at 4 p.m. Krishnaji joined us at 4:45 p.m., and the talk was on what we want Brockwood to be.’
June eleventh. ‘Dorothy drove Krishnaji and me to Petersfield, where he and I took the 11:46 a.m. to Waterloo. Mary Links met us there and we had a late lunch at Fortnum’s. I went to pick up Krishnaji’s passport with a visa at the Swiss consulate. Then I walked to Mr. Thompson’s office’—that’s the dentist—‘where Mary and Joe had taken Krishnaji for a tooth appointment. They drove us to Waterloo and we took the 6:20 p.m. train back.’

June Fourteenth ‘Krishnaji’s hoarseness, which he has said was nothing for two days, he admits this morning is a cold. He stayed in bed all day and didn’t try to do the dishes.’
The eighteenth of June. I’m going for early walks by myself all these days but not mentioning it. ‘I worked at my desk most of the day. Krishnaji got up to do a video-recorded discussion with four students but had lunch in his room and spent the rest of the day there. Pupul rang from New York. She will come to Switzerland July one, two, and three. Harper and Row is publishing her book on Krishnaji.’
There’s nothing of significance the next day, but on the twentieth, ‘Krishnaji spoke to the whole school at noon. Dorothy is beginning to say, when asked, that she and Montague are retiring. At 2 p.m., a salesman came to take a tentative order for a turbo diesel Mercedes.’ . Krishnaji had walked with Dorothy. I went to a last bit of a meeting of the staff and students who are returning to Brockwood in September.’
June twenty-third. ‘Krishnaji and I had breakfast at 6:15 a.m., and we left Brockwood at 7:15 a.m. with Dorothy and Scott to Heathrow. Krishnaji and I flew on Swissair. Our departure was delayed because everyone had to identify their luggage laid out on the runway before boarding, a security protection.’ ‘In Geneva we took a taxi to the Hotel des Bergues and our usual rooms. We rested, then walked across the bridge and had tea at Mövenpick.’ ‘We dined in the Amphitryon. Krishnaji’s hands were shaking, and it bothered him. In a window, he had seen a very small electric typewriter with a complete sort of display. It is made by Brother, and there’s something similar from Minolta, and we wondered if it would make letter writing easier for him in India. Once again, the accustomed Swiss orderly rooms were pleasant. There was especially an enjoyment for me because of its associations with all one’s summers coming here. It made me feel quietly very fortunate.’
The twenty-fourth. ‘We went to a Mercedes agency to look at a Mercedes 300E-124 series. Then to Jacquet to order ties—six for Joe, three for Theo, and three for Krishnaji. We lunched in the Amphitryon then walked to Patek for the annual watch inspection and finally to buy Krishnaji a towel bathrobe at the Pharmacie Principale. The groove of our yearly errands has its ( bourgeois ?) charm. Hertz delivered a cream Opel Corsa, and we drove slowly along the lake and then up into the mountains. Krishnaji was not relaxed in the car as in the past; he is uneasy that we are driving too fast through the villages. He says to go forty kilometers an hour, so we creep through them.’ ‘Instead of a pleasant drive through the Swiss scenery, it all seemed to tire him. . Krishnaji and I are downstairs in Friedrich Grohe’s flat, which he has lent to Krishnaji. Vanda and I have rented the four-bedroom apartment upstairs where we will all take our meals. Krishnaji saw Grohe’s flat last summer and said it was all right, but he is not pleased with it now.’

June twenty-fifth. ‘Krishnaji slept well. I spent the morning getting settled. Vanda, Raman, and I lunched. In the afternoon, we took Raman to enter his driver’s license on the Hertz contract so he could drive the rental car for errands. Then we did errands in Gstaad. At 5 p.m., Krishnaji and I drove past empty Chalet Tannegg to our old dear familiar walk. Our first of the season. Krishnaji went a little ahead into the wood, “To see if we are welcome,” he said. We were.’ came in after supper.’
The twenty-sixth. ‘‘Mary Cadogan rang. She’d seen Dorothy, who confirmed she is retiring.
June twenty-seventh. ‘Vanda and I went to look at a chalet for next summer near Tannegg. It was rather large. Friedrich lunched with us, then he had a rest.
The twenty-eighth of June. ‘Friedrich came to lunch. Krishnaji and I walked in the late afternoon along the river by the airfield.’
The next day: ‘I went to buy a tray for Krishnaji’s meals. Friedrich Grohe came to lunch. He showed Vanda and me a chalet he has rented, Chalet Heidi. It’s too small for us. Krishnaji had slight cold symptoms, so no walk.’
June thirtieth. ‘Krishnaji is better. I worked at my desk in the morning. After the nap. Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure, Raman, and I walked near the shooting practice range, and then along the river and the airfield.’ All Swiss adult males are in the army and have to be ready to leap with their guns to defend the country, and they have to practice shooting.  So that’s where we walked. We didn’t get fired at, but we were there.
July first. ‘I walked down to the market. Pupul arrived in a government car to stay till Thursday. She has just come from the opening in Washington of the Festival of India and Rajiv Gandhi’s first official visit. . Krishnaji started having supper alone in bed or at a table downstairs.’
July second: ‘I went to Gstaad for juices for Krishnaji. Krishnaji talked with Pupul about things in her book. When I got back, Krishnaji and I set out for the airfield walk, but hay fever started in the car, so we came back.’
July third. ‘I went for an early walk on the mountain on my own. Krishnaji had tried not taking his one-quarter Halcion tablet, so he slept only one-and-a-half hours. Pupul had breakfast with us downstairs and discussed India’s perennial copyright complaint. She says that there are only two things that are acceptable to India and that they are: 1) Share the copyright, which is unacceptable to England as it is in the KFT’s only asset and giving it up, even in part, would jeopardize our tax-exempt status; or 2) India publish a book every third year in the West, without vetting by England, and with any publisher they choose.’  She always resented the KFT having anything to do with KFI books. ‘Failing either of these, Krishnaji would have to decide, which he doesn’t want to do. I got Mary Cadogan in London on the phone so they could speak directly about all this. I did this in order to make friendly relations with India, but all the concessions to India that have been made so far have not achieved that. Scott arrived last night. He came to see Krishnaji. Krishnaji slept from 11:30 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. then came to lunch but slept again all afternoon. His stomach is not right. Friedrich, in Zürich to meet the Lilliefelts, rang to say that there is a huge fire in Ojai. Grand Avenue is being evacuated.
The next day. ‘Krishnaji slept well. I marketed in Rougemont, then worked at my desk. Erna and Theo came to lunch. My brother telephoned from the Vineyard about the Ojai fire.
M: July sixth. ‘Krishnaji slept fairly well. I went to Gstaad for errands and saw Erna and Theo’s apartment. On the way back to Rougemont, I stopped to see Dorothy and Montague, who had arrived in the Land Rover. Sathaye came to lunch with Krishnaji. I went to look at the tent.
July seventh: The weather is fine. I drove Krishnaji to the tent where at 10:30 a.m. he gave his first Saanen talk. The tent is bigger this year and it was full.’ ‘Afterward, it was a quiet lunch with Krishnaji, Vanda, Friedrich, Raman, and me. He slept in the afternoon, and later Krishnaji and I walked along the river by the airfield.’
July eighth: ‘I went on an early walk up the mountain on a beautiful morning, after which I did desk work. Vanda left for Firenze. Dorothy and Montague came with Jane Hammond for lunch. It was a cheerful lunch with Krishnaji telling stories, being charming and warm toward Dorothy. Afterward he, Dorothy, Jane, and I came downstairs to the little sitting room, and Krishnaji said he had something to say to Dorothy. It was his intention to speak to her about her retirement. She has told others she is retiring after the Brockwood Gathering, but she has never told Krishnaji. I knew he was undecided how to raise the subject, and part of the stories and gaiety at lunch were to skitter around that touchy subject. But the how of it came to him downstairs.’ This acknowledged  “retirement,” which she had never mentioned to him.
July tenth. ‘At 10:30 a.m. Krishnaji gave the second talk. Afterward we had a quiet lunch with no guests. At 4 p.m. he saw Nicos Pilavious, a Greek man who does children’s television shows, and his wife. Then we walked between the river and the airfield.

July twelfth. ‘After an early walk, I went to Gstaad on errands and to pick up Mary Cadogan, who I brought back. Dr. Parchure talked with her, Scott, and me about Indian publishing. Theo and Erna came, and we all lunched. Krishnaji talked at the table till after 4 p.m. about the ancient predictions of the manifestation of Maitreya Bodhisattva. There was only a short rest and we went for a walk at 5:40 by the airfield.
The next day, ‘I worked at the desk. Nicos Pilavious and his wife came to lunch. Krishnaji quite likes them. They are entertaining. At 4 p.m. Krishnaji saw Count Keyserling (son)
The fourteenth. ‘Krishnaji gave his third Saanen talk, after which we had a quiet lunch with no guests. We walked by the river and airfield. Krishnaji had supper in bed, but at 7:30 p.m., KFT trustees came here to discuss the proposed anthology and the copyright problem with India before tomorrow’s meeting.
July fifteenth. ‘All trustees in Saanen of KFT, KFI, and KFA came here for a meeting. There was a discussion of the copyright matters raised by India. Dr. Parchure and Sathaye are the only Indian trustees present. Dr. Parchure did a good job of putting forward KFI’s position. The 'ultimatum' of Pupul’s, i.e., either share the copyright or let India publish what it wants un-vetted on the Western market every three years. There was objection to this. Except for the last book, when apparently Sunanda had help from someone at the Oxford Press who is no longer available, her editing and syntax is not good enough. Krishnaji wonders if only England should edit, a bombshell for India if he puts it to them. Also discussed was the anthology that Weeraperuma has been asked to do by Chetana’—that’s an Indian publisher—‘and looked on with favor by Mary Links. After thinking it over, I am not in favor. Some others were also doubtful. Short excerpts are envisioned on each of Krishnaji’s subjects, so there will be a reducing of his teaching to capsules, a Reader’s Digest approach, making it appear easy for those unwilling to really go into the teaching themselves. Even if they were to be done, I do not think that Weeraperuma is the one to make such choices. The next subject raised by Krishnaji was to move the Saanen talks to Brockwood, i.e., have only one European series and at Brockwood to make less travel for Krishnaji. He suggested we have one more year at Saanen, and then move the talks to Brockwood. The discussion went on until 1:30 p.m. Grohe and son were at lunch. After naps, we met Scott and walked along the river and the airfield. Krishnaji felt very weak on return. He said he wondered, “If my time had come,” but he felt better and normal after eating supper.’
July sixteenth. ‘Dagmar Lichti came at 10 a.m. and discussed Krishnaji’s health with him, Dr. Parchure, and me. She stayed to lunch, and the Lilliefelts were also there. At 3 p.m. the Lilliefelts, Mary Cadogan, Hugues, and Grohe discussed the ownership of the Saanen land and the possibilities of the eventual sale of the land when it was not needed for the talks. Later, Krishnaji and I walked along the river and the airfield.’

The seventeenth of July. ‘At 10:30 a.m. Krishnaji gave his fourth Saanen talk. It began in a remote voiece which deepened and strengthened as he went to greater depth. It was a special talk “Self-centeredness is corruption,” he said. It was the pure essential Krishnaji teaching to the world, coming through that fragile, gentle, utterly commanding figure as it has all these many, so many, years. There was a stillness of the audience at the end. And he made a gesture that he would get up and go only when they did. I could scarcely speak going to the car where I was set upon by the 'happy Fouérés'…’ The "happy Fouérés" were tiresome, to put it euphemistically. They were a French couple, and he wrote all kinds of elaborate things about Krishnaji’s teachings. ‘I was set upon by the happy Fouérés wanting to come to present his newest wretched book. Not then and there, which would have been simple, but at the chalet—their annual demand. Krishnaji was far up the road when I finally caught up to him with the car. After we had passed through Saanen, driving slowly, his head fell on my shoulder in a faint, which has not happened in some years. I kept driving slowly, and he came to within a minute. David and Saral Bohm, who are here for five days, came to lunch. David is going to conferences that seem to be mixtures of science and philosophy? He goes to one with the Dalai Lama next week. There is a rumor, and Krishnaji raised it at lunch, that there is a rift between Krishnaji and David. ‘The conversation was, as ever, between them. I sat and talked a while with them after Krishnaji went for his nap. Saral feels the rumor may come about through Dorothy’s critical talk to various people these past difficult years. Later we went for the walk. Krishnaji asked that we walk slowly. Slowness is now something he keeps asking for when I drive. Dr. Parchure gave him some back massage before he went to bed, saying his body is sore to any pressure.’ He was sick, and sickening.
July eighteenth. ‘Fortunately this had been planned as a day of rest, for in the night Krishnaji took a quarter tablet of Halcion, as a new pill given to him by Dr. Lichti had not put him to sleep. There was a cumulative effect of the two pills, and he was unsteady and weaving. Dr. Parchure had Krishnaji take tea for breakfast, which was enough stimulus to clear the pill effect. Krishnaji had lunch in bed after massage. He is enthusiastic about the effect of tea, which he hasn’t drunk for most of his life. Erna and Theo came in the afternoon to talk about the Oak Grove’s new arrangement for Krishnaji’s entrance and the seating for next year.’

July nineteenth. ‘There was the annual general meeting of all the International Committees held again at the Ermitage Hotel in Schönried. Krishnaji asked their opinion on moving the Saanen talks to Brockwood after next year. Then he spoke of Dorothy, her retirement as principal after this year’s talks at Brockwood, and of all she had done. Juan Colell of the Spanish committee rose and thanked Dorothy. And there was strong applause. There was a lunch at the hotel, but Krishnaji and I came back to Rougemont for a quiet lunch. In the afternoon after rest, he briefly received the old Spanish couple who each summer bring a gift of a thousand francs, and then the Fouérés, who brought their latest book.

M: July twentieth. ‘We walked by the airfield. Krishnaji wants to leave here sooner than August twelfth. “I will never come back here.”We talked about this in the evening with Parchure and about Krishnaji’s highly increased sensitivity. The room he is in bothers him. It is too small, dark, and a “dungeon.”…“I cried the day I saw it,” he said, but he refuses to move upstairs.’ He did eventually move.
July twenty-first. ‘Krishnaji’s fifth and last Saanen talk. It was announced by Mary Cadogan and Hugues that Saanen was ending, but Brockwood talks would continue to be held, and next year they would be from July twentieth to August eighth. The rumor had spread through the morning queue outside the tent, so there seemed no surprise from the huge audience. The actor Richard Gere, came to lunch with a girl, Sylvia Martins. Krishnaji talked at the table till almost 4 p.m. The stimulus of a new person seemed to carry him on with little rest. He still wanted to walk and we went by the airfield. We telephoned Vanda about the change to the Saanen talks. She is coming on the seventh or eighth, so we will not leave earlier for Brockwood.’
July twenty-second. ‘Krishnaji was tired, so rather disturbed. Clearly the small  “dungeon” room is oppressing him. I got Parchure to help persuade him to move into the other flat upstairs where he would have light, a balcony, and a view of the great gray granite look of the mountain that rises above Rougemont. He agreed to move, so he and I are now in the upstairs flat and much more comfortable. Parchure and Raman are down in Grohe’s one. While I worked on the over 100 written questions handed in for the three question-and-answer sessions, Krishnaji talked urgently to Parchure about India. His voice was agitated. It sounded almost crying. He eventually called me in. He said that in India, he trusts Sathaye, Upasani, Maheshji, but not Hiralal. He mentioned Rishi Valley, Radhika “probably,” Mrs. Thomas, and Narayan. But at Vasanta Vihar he doesn’t trust the three Patwardhans.’ He turned against the Patwardhans very strongly. ‘He spoke of future schedules in India being one year at Rajghat and Bombay, alternate years Rishi Valley and Madras. I s

(...) I said it is not healthy to be in Bombay. “Oh, we would only go there for talks. Two weeks.”’ That was his reply. ‘I asked if he planned to cut the total time in India. “No.” I asked did he then want to spend three months in Rajghat? He recoiled and said, “I couldn’t do that.”’ ‘Then as he talked it developed that travel is too tiring, but he cannot stay too long in one place.’ ‘He has become hypersensitive. He feels people are impinging upon him, focused on him. If he stays in a place too long, there is a pressure he cannot stand now, and he must talk or the energy will go out of him as he is here to talk. If not, he will weaken and end. “It wants to disappear,” and he needs someone to challenge him. Bohm used to do it and it made Krishnaji go deeper, but Bohm can’t now. Pupul can’t. No one can. No one we know. It is what he needs. The paradox of his needing rest and needing not to let down is the dilemma. The new program of Brockwood as the only European talks, means he will be there for months. And finding a place to take him away from people’s focus will be a puzzle, his physical needs and hypersensitivity increasing as they are. He talked at length, trying to find answers himself. I am learning not to say anything but let him talk in his present way, which is too often to state things well known, as if he were laying a groundwork of a known in order to come upon the new. The present situation, what is now has to be sorted out from what has been. Finally, at almost 1 p.m., he went for a quick bath. With Parchure and Raman, I began moving our things up. By 4 p.m. Krishnaji’s room, sunny and in order, was ready, and he lay down. But then arrived one Hugo Brewster, a Canadian friend of Paola and John Cohen, and Krishnaji talked to him. By now, tonight, we are settled in the upper rooms, and I think it is better. We’ll see in the morning if he thinks so, but he stood a long time on the balcony looking at the mountains. That seemed to do him good.’
The twenty-third of July. ‘Krishnaji slept well in his new room. It is an improvement. At 10:30 a.m. he held the first question-and-answer meeting in the tent and answered three questions in great depth. Then there was a quiet lunch. A letter of invitation came from Mr. and Mrs. Nicos Pilavious, the Greek couple whom he saw and who came to lunch here. It suggests visiting them in June on a Greek island and appeals to Krishnaji. Then we talked about it, looking up the island in the atlas. It is fun to think of it, but is there any shade on a Greek island?’ ‘At 5:30 p.m. we went back to our very dear and lovely Tannegg walk . I spoke on the phone to Cohen, who says a draft of a settlement seems all right and is being sent to me.’
July twenty-fourth. ‘Krishnaji held the second question-and-answer session in the tent. Krishnaji now says we should vacation here next year.
July twenty-fifth. ‘Krishnaji held the third question-and-answer meeting and the last ever of the Gatherings in Saanen. There was no goodbye, just a profound silence as he sat for a few moments and then asked, “May I leave?” I couldn’t speak in the car, and we drove slowly.
July twenty-sixth. ‘There was a long talk with Krishnaji in the morning about all the foundations. “It is watching,” he said. He speaks as if "that something" is deciding what happens to him. “It” will decide when his work is done and hence, by implication, his life. He is disturbed by the divisions in the Indian foundation and their suspicion of the two Western foundations. He is disturbed generally by everything. He didn’t feel like walking but talked to me about KFA. Only the Lilliefelts and I are there, he said..
July thirty-first. ‘Rain. Krishnaji talked at length with Claire and Harsh before they left for England. I changed the Opel at Hertz for a Volkswagen Golf and went to Gstaad on errands. In the afternoon, Krishnaji saw Gisèle Balleys at 4 p.m. and Jackie Siddoo at 4:30 p.m. He talked intently at lunch and after supper with Parchure, Raman, and me about how to bring about a religious center.’
The first of August. ‘I worked at the desk all morning. Friedrich and his son, Christoph, came to lunch. At 4:30 p.m., Krishnaji saw Rupert Oysler and his wife.
August third. ‘I worked at my desk in the morning. Friedrich and his son Christoph came to lunch. Erna telephoned from Ojai saying that she has seen Cohen and is sending the text of an agreement. There was the Tannegg walk with Krishnaji. He asked me, did ring, but he was out. I will ring tomorrow. I also telephoned Vanda, who will come on Friday.’ This is written on Monday. ‘At 11:30 a.m., Catherine and Jean de Maurex came in their Mercedes 190, of interest to Krishnaji, and drove us to an old-fashioned hotel up the mountain behind Vevey, a place where the old, infirm, and rich go for health somethings. Fossils are in the dining room, and a very long ordered-in-advance lunch. But the view from the restaurant was nice, and Krishnaji seemed to like the de Maurexes. He drove expertly, which Krishnaji observed, and so did not become nervous when going faster than he prefers these days. Catherine and Jean also put “serious” questions to Krishnaji at lunch, which he fielded. We came back via Aigle and the Col du Pillon. Rain began by the time we got back. In the evening, Krishnaji said that I should write a book, “even if only a hundred pages, about what it is like being with him, and what he said.” And then he said, “I will teach you meditation before I go to India when you have a completely controlled body.”’ He was irritated by gestures, and I use my hands when I talk and that annoyed him.
August sixth, 1985. ‘I was awake at 2 a.m. I’m not sleeping properly these days. In rain I went at 10 a.m. to the Banque Cantonale for the annual meeting with Mr. Hans Liechti to review the Alzina account investments, the interest from which helps pay for Krishnaji’s needs. While I was out, Michael answered a call from Asit, who is arriving Thursday night or Friday morning and asked if I would get him a room. Friedrich offered one in his place, but probably Asit will be better off at the Hotel Caprice. It was too wet for the usual walk. Cohen telephoned and, with Krishnaji there and at Krishnaji’s instructions, I asked Cohen, as our friend as well as our lawyer, what he felt was the right thing to do. We want to settle this interminable affair, but are we, in the proposed settlement text, leaving Krishnaji, in any way that we could prevent, unprotected against some new nastiness from Rajagopal? Cohen said that if Rajagopal were to slander Krishnaji, for instance, in the future, we could still act legally. I said we objected to the word in the settlement agreement “amicable,” and he said he would try to get it out. Also, he will try to improve the language in the publishing rights clause and also in protecting the original settlement agreement of 1977. I then told him that Krishnaji and I agreed to go along with the settlement if he could work out these things. Krishnaji had me send him his affection and said we look forward to seeing him in the spring for the pleasure of it and not all this legal business.’

In the afternoon, Krishnaji had me note a memoranda about making Brockwood a religious place. “1: Look at trees, nature. Be aware of everything. 2: Study Krishnaji’s teachings to know (even intellectually) all he has said. 3: Are you really interested in this? If not, do your job as well as you can, but ease out.”’ ‘He also had me note things he wants to tell KF India trustees. “1: Hurt. If anyone gets hurt by what I’m about to say, they haven’t 'listened' to the Teachings.” 2: Organization has swallowed the teachings. 3: Krishnaji will be ninety-one in a few months and will probably live ( or not ?) another five to ten years. Before he dies, he feels it is absolutely necessary to have a religious center. 4: Trust. K. questions whether you trust him. You have often said that K. is influenced, etcetera”‘“5: Circumstances; 'pragmatism' is not his way of action. 6: In publishing India considers it is separate from England.” Later we walked in the Tannegg wood. The sky had cleared. The sun was bright. And the fresh snow on the mountains was a glory.’
Now I’ve added in just a piece of paper, which was paper-clipped to this page. I guess it’s to me: These are quotes: ‘“You are responsible for Ojai more than the other two, Erna and Theo. You have been closest to Krishnaji. You must be sensitive to That. It will go with K. when he dies, I think. I might have to stay in India or Brockwood or Ojai, but you are responsible for Ojai. You can’t ask for it. Just to be sensitive. Pay attention. I’m not going to correct you, the way you put your thumbs on the steering wheel.”’ ‘“ This is very serious. You must keep the door open to That.”’
August eighth is very short: ‘We all lunched with Friedrich at Chesery in Gstaad and afterward Krishnaji had his hair cut by Monsieur Nicolas. Came back and he slept “heavily” for an hour before the now daily cup of tea before a Tannegg walk.’ That was prescribed by Dr. Parchure.
Asit telephoned from London. He has to fly to Singapore Saturday so he is uncertain whether there is the time for him to come here. I got Krishnaji on the phone briefly and later Asit rang back to say he would come tomorrow. In the evening, Krishnaji told me that Erna and I must see that he has things to do when he comes to Ojai. He isn’t going to just sit there. Then he came back and said I mustn’t arrange for things for him to do just to please him. It must be something “you think is necessary…Are you listening? Do you understand? Otherwise I’ll stay at Brockwood and just come for the Ojai talks.” My replies only seemed to irritate him.’

The ninth of August. ‘In the afternoon, Vanda arrived from Florence on one train, and Asit came in on another from Geneva. He is staying at Hotel Caprice for one night. Krishnaji talked to him at length “about everything.” Then the three of us went for a walk in the Tannegg wood. Asit used his new Sony video camera to film Krishnaji there.’ Every time Asit turned up, he had a new camera. ‘It was 7:40 p.m., when we got back and all of us, including Krishnaji, had supper at the table. Toward the end of the meal, Krishnaji asked the question, “Is humanity disintegrating?” and an intense questioning ensued on his part. “Is there some part of the brain that refuses this disintegration? If there is, will that turn it around? Something that will break the circle? Is there some part of the brain that rejects conditioning?…I am into something.” The conversation went on till after 10 p.m.’ He was strange in those days, wound up and…
August tenth. ‘Krishnaji talked with Asit in the morning, and Asit left after lunch for Geneva and Singapore. He has told Krishnaji he will be through with his business by June or July of next year and wants to work for Krishnaji. Krishnaji did not ask him how, and now he wants me to ask Asit what he meant by that if he telephones. But it is unlikely that Asit will call. He will see Krishnaji in Madras. Vanda, who had not met Asit, said she liked him. “He listens well,” she said. There was the usual rest for Krishnaji after lunch, then Krishnaji wanted to walk to get out of this house. “I’ll be glad to leave this place the day after tomorrow. I can’t stand this place. I don’t know why the atmosphere is all wrong. I cried the first day we came here,” he said. In the car going toward Gstaad, he said, “Probably it was wrong for me to ask advice…” from Asit “…and afterward, when I was washing my hands, I knew what to do.” This was about the problems in KFI, and he said he couldn’t say now what he will do, but it will come to him there.’ In other words, in India. ‘He will plunge in and know what to do. In the Tannegg wood he felt well and away from the wrong atmosphere of the house.’ ‘On the way back he said, “The spirit has left Saanen. Probably that is
why I feel so uncomfortable. It has moved to Brockwood.” He looks forward, as I do, to getting there.. ‘In the car he also said that Vanda had told him that he should have a long rest. “Maybe I should just rest when I come to Ojai.” I asked if he might feel like writing again. “Maybe,” he replied. Mary has written that she and Joe have enough money from the change of the apartment to come to Ojai in April. Krishnaji wants to rent a car for their use with his Dodge money, which is now $12,000.’ Miss Dodge left him a tiny little sum, but he never spent most of it, so it had mounted up to $12,000. ‘We talked too about Cortina d’Ampezzo, suggested by Vanda for next summer’s holiday instead of the Hotel Caprice here in Rougemont, where we have booked rooms. “Twenty-eight years in this valley may be enough. We can go to the French Alps or Italian mountains.” And then, “While we are in Ojai, let’s study Italian and French one hour a day.” We agreed, and I am to get the cassettes.’ ‘He was more cheerful by evening. Action, learning, and driving in a new Mercedes are in this extraordinary brain at ninety.’ He was never going to rest.

The eleventh. ‘Packed. A fine, warm late summer day. Vanda is a little bearish on the possibility of Cortina d’Ampezzo. She said it is not as comfortable as here, but Krishnaji is expansive. He would like to go to Venice, to Florence, to Rome. Vanda has made a mark in persuading him to have more time for rest and that today meant going to places other than Switzerland. When we came to the Tannegg walk, he said to the trees, “Goodbye. We’ll see you in two or three years.” And coming back through Gstaad and Saanen, it was, “Ciao, until a couple of years.” He talks too about our using an apartment that may be built on the Saanen Gathering land; something that may not exist for five years. All this is music to me and lets in a blessed sense of ease and summer sunlight. He said he wants to telephone Asit in October and ask him if he would like to take over the running of KFI, the publishing, seeing to translations, etcetera, the business part—not the religious aspect, “though he could try that and see if he can.”’ ‘He said Dr. Parchure, whom Krishnaji thinks dislikes Asit for some “puritanic” reason, suggested the above for Asit during this morning’s massage. At the end of the walk, I simply drove us back without wondering if we would ever see this valley again.’
August twelve. ‘It was a warm, clear morning. We were ready by 10 a.m. when Catherine and Jean de Maurex came in their Mercedes. We said goodbye to Vanda and the Ortolanis, who were there. Krishnaji went with the de Maurexes, and Raman and I followed in the VW with the luggage. Near Morges, Krishnaji and the de Maurexes went off to the Route du Lac, and Raman and I continued on the autoroute to the Geneva airport. While Raman stayed with the luggage, I returned the VW to Hertz. Then checked Krishnaji and me into Swissair number 832 and had boarding cards and a wheelchair ready for Krishnaji when he arrived at 1 o’clock. Raman had gone off into Geneva and was on a later flight. Krishnaji and I flew at 1:45 p.m. to Heathrow. Rita Zampese met us at the door of the plane with another wheelchair, and we rolled past a huge queue at immigration. Dorothy, Ingrid, Ray, and Bill all met us. Dorothy’s eyesight had caused concern, but she had insisted on bringing her car, so Krishnaji and I went with her. She said something to Krishnaji about this being the last time she would be meeting him. Anyhow I asked her to go slowly, and she did. We got to Brockwood at 4 p.m. Dr. Parchure was in the other car too. Brockwood is beautiful and quiet. Only Montague, Doris, and Dominic were out on the driveway to meet Krishnaji. It is very good to be here.’
The fifteenth of August. ‘Mary and Joe came at noon, and we all sat in the kitchen and caught up on news of the summer. Krishnaji gave Joe six handsome ties from Jacquet. Krishnaji looked gleaming and well, full of charm and animation. Mary Cadogan was also here to speak to Dorothy about financial matters after her retirement in September. A pension was set up that would give her and Montague plenty of spending money, and Brockwood pays for all her car expenses including insurance, petrol, etcetera, all food supplies, etcetera. Dorothy is said to be pleased by all this.
August sixteenth. ‘There was rain in the morning. The car went for its annual car inspection and a new battery cable. Krishnaji was tired when he got up and didn’t do exercises, but he did get up for lunch. He slept, and then we walked around the lanes. While having what is now a daily tea, he mentioned that, “Since the end of Saanen,” something is going on in him. He said that if 'something' has decided everything that happens to K., it is something extraordinary.” I asked if he thinks that all the foretelling that Upadhyaya spoke of is true. He replied, “I am skeptical.” I pointed out that he speaks of it as though it had impressed him. “I don’t know,” he said. I mentioned certain changes in him lately, and wondered if he was aware of them.’
‘Krishnaji: “What changes?”’
‘Me: “The hypersensitivity and manner.”’
‘Krishnaji: “What manner?”’
‘Me: “A roughness that is unlike you.”’
‘Krishnaji: “Am I rough to others?”’
‘Me: “No.”’
‘Krishnaji “Just to you?”’
‘Me: “Yes.”’ Which he was.
‘He said he never did anything he was unaware of. I was too hard to change, and so he had been rough. He was relaxed when he said all this, but it will recur whether through my own faults or other factors. Many things seem to be bothering him, notably the KF India situation. He wants the Patwardhans out, the publications done by the KFT, and Vasanta Vihar to be a religious center, which it isn’t with the Patwardhans in charge. All this is troubling him. I think he feels Brockwood is at last pulled together and out of its rut of trouble, but India is there to be changed. He wants to end discord and set all things right “before I’m gathered to my fathers.” And he seems to burn with this.’
The next day, ‘Krishnaji slept till 7 a.m. and ate buckwheat for breakfast. This must have upset his stomach, for after the massage he began to vomit. He took his bath but was so weak he could scarcely get out of the tub. When he got into bed, I called Dr. Parchure. He vomited three times more. When Parchure was out of the room, he said, “I have to hold onto it. Death is always so close.” I am writing this as he sleeps, so frail, so extraordinarily beautiful. There is really no age in his face, only total beauty.’
Later: ‘He has awakened, and asked me how long since the last vomit. I told him it was one-and-a-half hours. “He mustn’t be seriously ill or it would be the end. No accident or it would be nip and tuck.”’
Written later: ‘In Rougemont the following took place between Krishnaji and me and Dr. Parchure discussing travel plans. It’s written in dialogue.’
‘Krishnaji: “It is not a physical effort of the brain. It is something else. My life has been 'planned'. It will tell me when to die, say it is over. That will settle my life. But I must be careful that ‘that’ is not interfered with by saying, ‘I will give only two more talks.’’”
‘Me: “Do you feel how much more time is given you?”’
‘Krishnaji: “I think (...) ten years more.”’
‘Me: “You mean talking?”’
‘Krishnaji: “When I don’t talk, it will be over. But I don’t want to strain the body. Also, too long a holiday is bad. I need a certain amount of rest but not more. A quiet place where nobody knows me, but unfortunately people get to know me.”’
August eighteenth: ‘Krishnaji is feeling all right again, but stayed in bed. “Thank god I’ll have two months rest here,” he said.’
The nineteenth: ‘A card from Ortolani says that Fosca died August ninth or tenth. At 10 a.m. Krishnaji met the core group of Brockwood staff members upstairs in the West Wing. Apart from attending that meeting, I worked mostly at my desk.
The twentieth: ‘It was a rainy day. Krishnaji stayed in bed. “He’s had enough. If there were an illness or an accident, he would slip out. No one in all these years has changed. I want to give you a new brain. I will (try ?) till I die,” he said.’

August twenty-third. ‘Krishnaji spent the day in bed. People are arriving for the Brockwood talks.
The twenty-fourth: ‘At 11:30 a.m. Krishnaji gave the first Brockwood talk of the year. Afterward, we had a complete lunch upstairs, and then he went down to the tent for a little while before resting. He was quite full of energy and there was a large crowd. There was rain early, but it held off later.’
August twenty-seventh. At 11:30 was Krishnaji’s first question-and-answer meeting, and he did five of them. We had lunch upstairs.
August twenty-eighth. ‘There was a discussion after breakfast with Krishnaji, Dr. Parchure and me about Krishnaji’s program for 1986. He feels he should give two talks on the East Coast of the USA. Boston? Krishnaji had lunch in bed but got up for a walk down the West Meon road at 5 p.m. I telephoned Erna about the above. She suggested speaking at universities, but Krishnaji later disapproved.’
The twenty-ninth: ‘Krishnaji held his second question-and-answer meeting. After lunch upstairs, Krishnaji had photos taken by Barry Moore to go with Duncan Fallowell’s Harpers & Queen article. A television crew covered the meeting in the morning. On the walk with Krishnaji was Dorothy, Elena Greene, and me. Erna telephoned. The Rajagopal settlement is ready for signatures.’

‘August 30-th There was a heavy feeling all morning, and then after the massage, Parchure came to me and told me that Krishnaji had said he didn’t want the extra talks. It might be good just to rest in Ojai.So I telephoned this to Erna. She has just sent me two copies of the settlement agreement with Rajagopal for our signatures and that of Tilly von Egmond for the Netherlands. I have asked Tilly to remain here until the papers arrive. Krishnaji was tense last evening, irritable just below the surface. He came to my room, sat me down, holding my hand, and said he was looking at his irritability. “I am not talking to you, I am talking to myself…Either I am getting old or have fallen into a habit of picking at you. It is my fault, and it must stop. We’ve been together a long time, and I love you deeply. The body has become hypersensitive. Most of the time I want to go away, and I mustn’t do that. I’m going to deal with this. It is unforgivable.” Later he said of himself, “He’s had enough. If there were illness or an accident, he would slip out.” And then, “No one in all these years has changed.” And, “I want to give you a new brain. I love you; I will till I die.” Later he called me in: “Maria, I have a feeling it’s all been carefully planned. When the body goes, it may be tomorrow, it may be in ten years, but it is a strange feeling. It has all been completely planned.”’

The first of September. ‘Krishnaji gave his fourth Brockwood talk, which was very fine. We lunched upstairs. I talked with Kathy and various others. The walk was with Krishnaji, Dorothy, me. There was a discussion in the evening with Krishnaji, Scott, Parchure, and me about the troublesome staff and how to arrange next year’s Brockwood Gathering.’
September second: ‘At 8 a.m. there was a meeting upstairs with the core group. Krishnaji had breakfast afterward. I went to Petersfield on errands in the afternoon. The settlement came for our signatures. Tilly von Egmond, who stayed till it came, signed for Holland. Krishnaji will sign for himself, KFT, and KFI. He had been in bed all day but saw Alfonso Colon at 4 p.m. It rained too much for a walk.’
The next day, ‘Krishnaji signed the settlement agreement. . I mailed the signed settlement papers to Erna and telephoned her that I had. The house is becoming quiet and is almost empty.’
The fourth. ‘Krishnaji and I took the 10:23 a.m. to London. Joe met us and took us to Huntsman, where Krishnaji had a fitting, bought a cardigan, and ordered a lightweight suit.’ You eventually inherited that, didn’t you?
Now, for the next five days I don’t write much, partly because I had a cold, it seems. I don’t go on walks, but Krishnaji talks with me about an empty mind. I continue to work at my desk. Then on September tenth, ‘At 11 a.m. Krishnaji gave an interview filmed by ITV for the program “The Human Factor” to be broadcast nationwide December first. The interviewer was Sue Jay, and it was shot on film in the drawing room for one-and-a-half hours.
September thirteenth. ‘Krishnaji and I took the 10:23 a.m. train to London. It was a warm, soft late summer morning. He looked not over forty, standing in immense elegance at the Petersfield station: young, attractive, with a dignity that is both aloof and intensely unassuming.
‘Me: “Do you really know when you'll die ?”’
‘Krishnaji: “I think I do. I have intimations.”’
‘Me: “Are you willing to tell me?”’
‘Krishnaji: “No, that would not be right. I cannot tell anyone.”’

Me: “Is one to live thinking that at any moment you might leave?”’
‘Krishnaji: “No, it’s not like that. It won’t be for quite a while.”’
‘As it is a hot day and we would be returning late from London because of his 4:30 p.m. dentist appointment, ‘They turned out be a huge increase, and when we bought them there were only two seats left and in separate compartments. To make it worse, the one Krishnaji took was a smoker.’ ‘Joe met us and drove us up to Huntsman. Krishnaji ordered a lightweight gray worsted suit and a pair of flannel trousers in a subtle color of vaguely greenish gray. ‘We met Mary L. at Fortnum’s and she lunched with us. Krishnaji fell to talking of India and the fact that when he tries to make a change there, some of them, Pupul and the Patwardhans, claim that he has been influenced ( by ML & MZ ?) and dismisses what he has just been saying as not his own views. He doesn’t like to quarrel with them or to assert his authority, so he says, “Very well,” and lets it go. But now he says he feels this time in India he must put his “house in order” and insist that what he thinks is right be done. He talked at length about this, not wanting any comment from Mary or me, in fact refusing any comment,’ ‘but as if his own talking helped to explore it in his mind.
The fourteenth: ‘After breakfast, Krishnaji talked to me about Ojai. He feels the Lilliefelts and I have driven ourselves into a corner. There is no one we wholly trust to carry on, and we are all getting old. So what is going to happen there? What is he going to do there for three-and-a-half months? He is afraid that for that amount of time he will wither there. It is out that he will go elsewhere to talk. He can’t go on perpetually talking to the Oak Grove staff who don’t understand. He is sure he will settle things in India. Should he then return to Brockwood and stay there until the Ojai talks, even though it is winter? Ojai doesn’t attract people. They come for him. He asked, what if, after the rest, he were to hold open discussions every weekend for anyone who wants to come? He cannot, and will not, do nothing. “I am for it.” He wants to be in our own place, not elsewhere. Later I telephoned Erna and told her what Krishnaji is thinking of and of the above discussion. She pointed out all the difficulties, which, when I reported them to Krishnaji, he found to be a sign that the teachings come second to organization.
The next day, Krishnaji held a discussion with all the staff at 11:30 a.m. And the day after was a rest day for Krishnaji. and the “Leer Project,” which is a school that Hans Vincent is pushing using the Stichting mailing list. Mary Cadogan is to ask all committees to give their mailing lists to Krishnamurti Foundation Publications. Krishnaji is thinking of telling India that all talks, including Indian ones, go to KFT for editing. And the best-of-all-that-years talks will be published by it. India may do Indian discussions for India. He has not yet but will make a decision. From us he wanted only factual memoranda and not advice, as India has the insulting habit of rejecting what it does not like by saying, “You’ve been influenced, this isn’t your opinion.” Krishnaji went for a nap and then later a walk with Dorothy and me. I had a message that Mark Lee had telephoned, so I rang him back.’ He didn’t have anything to do with the Oak Grove School by then and was Erna’s helper. ‘He explained a plan for Krishnaji to speak on three weekends two weeks apart with educators in March and April, with twenty-five to thirty educators in each group. Also Mark suggested video interviews videoed by someone other than Mendizza. I reported all this to Krishnaji in the evening, and he was irritated by the two weeks apart. “Are they just trying to fill my time?…What do you think?” in a hostile voice.’
September eighteenth. ‘At 9 a.m. Krishnaji met the core group in the West Wing. The topic was leisure and space without discussion or occupation. It was felt we 'keep out' something by being constantly occupied. Krishnaji said, “I have complete leisure.” He urged us for a week to write down “Everything, every thought, etcetera.” He said he used to do this, and Rajagopal tried to find the papers but never did: Krishnaji put them under a stone outside.’ ‘It could take me twenty-three hours of the day to do all this, but this seems as good a place as under a stone to give it a try, so here it goes.’ ‘I look on today as a sort of shelf wherein it was mercifully quiet. I ache for quiet, space apart from the violence of the public news, cancer, presence of death, Krishnaji’s discontent and irritability. I could come into my room and do the simple, ordinary things, the luxury of small matters instead of cataclysmic ones. The house was empty and quiet at lunch. Krishnaji motioned to me that I was 'putting out my tongue', another lack of awareness of what I am doing. He now calls for deliberate action by will as general awareness doesn’t seem sufficient. I feel like a robot at times but realize this is a defense.’
September nineteenth. ‘It was a quiet day. I don’t feel a shrinking from my own, as far as I can tell, but Krishnaji had admonished me over and over, “You must outlive me” to look after him, and each of us urges healthful things on the other. Krishnaji’s tireless movement toward and in life is behind his present irritability: his not suffering fools gladly, his effort to right India, Ojai, the staff group here. Today he said to that the unifying factor should be intelligence. “To be free in the real sense, that freedom is intelligence. Intelligence is common to all of us and that will bring us together, not organization. If you see the importance that each one of us is free and that freedom implies love, consideration, attention, cooperation, and compassion—that intelligence is the factor to keep us together.” At 4 p.m. Krishnaji gave two interviews to Duncan Fallowell for the Harper’s & Queen article. We walked on the West Meon road, and Dorothy joined us.’
The next day. ‘At 9 a.m. Krishnaji met the core staff group and asked one of those seemingly impossible question “How do you instantly, without time, make the students see that 'self-interest' is the root of conflict?” He was talking about intelligence. If each one of us is intelligent, in the sense that he means (i.e., sensitive, loving, compassionate), then that intelligence, which is neither yours nor mine, is acting, and, therefore, though we are separate physical bodies, we act as one. And can you make the student see this? Not only see it but instantly be transformed? Then he mentioned that out of all the hundreds of students who have passed through Rishi Valley, not one has been different. This always twists at me, although he has said he doesn’t look at results. It seems painful to me that he should work tirelessly, endlessly, patiently all these very many years without seeing one human being changed. After the meeting in the room, I said that if no student in all these years had changed, one may ask what is the point of them? If no one, with all his effort, has changed, how can the rest of us, who apparently haven’t changed, expect to bring this about in others, the students? If you haven’t done it, is there any likelihood that we can change others? “I don’t know,” he replied, but it was said a little jokingly, not wanting to go on with a serious discussion. On the walk with Dorothy, Krishnaji told us both to walk with the right foot turning out. Another thing to pay attention to. This writin seems to be more about what happened in the day than the “every thought” recording.’
September twenty-second: ‘Krishnaji spoke to the whole staff in the sitting room at 11:30 a.m. He went slowly into freedom of mind in the approach to students: freedom from problems, not adding to the students’ problems.. Krishnaji seemed unaware of time. It was after 1 p.m. when he was slowly, slowly approaching the denouement. I got impatient and found it confusing. Finally I said it was 1:15 p.m. The Digbys had come to lunch and were waiting. George is writing some book, I think a sort of memoir, and wanted to mention it to Krishnaji. In the afternoon I telephoned Mark Lee that Krishnaji agreed to hold meetings with the separate educational groups of twenty-five to thirty people on three successive weekends in March but doesn’t want to speak at UC Santa Barbara.. Krishnaji came to me in the early morning while I was doing my exercises and wanted to see what I do and corrected everything. He is a very demanding exercise master.’
September twenty-third. ‘Krishnaji again came in the early morning and taught me exercises and breathing. A hard taskmaster, but very touching. He had me telephone the West German consulate to learn of the visa requirements. A very abrupt woman demanded to know the reason for the Indian citizen’s trip to Bonn and said he should get a statement from his doctor that he was going there for medical reasons. “We’ll talk about it,” said Krishnaji after I also found out that Rita Zampese is away for a week and hence no rearranging of our Lufthansa tickets today. Scott presented ten new members of staff to Krishnaji. Friedrich arrived by teatime and said that it is still hot in Switzerland, more than here. But it is so warm in Hampshire it is as if it were a full summer, a lovely prolongation, an island, a minute island in time on which I stand incredulous and humbled to have been so lucky. The horror of other lives is out there. Mexico has just had three devastating earthquakes. In Mexico City thousands are dead. Unknown numbers are buried, still alive or dead under fallen buildings. The country is in economic ruin too.
September twenty-fourth, 1985, and we’re at Brockwood. ‘Krishnaji gave me another lesson in breathing and neck exercises. A severe teacher.’ ‘He also asked me to note, “Independence without freedom is meaningless. If you have freedom you don’t need independence.”

‘Krishnaji kept coming in as it was the time we had said we would telephone Erna. Her letter made him want to reassure her, and so I rang, relayed what he was saying while he was standing beside me, including, in confidence to her, that he knows, more or less, when he will die and wants to put all the work in order—not just Ojai, but especially India, and Brockwood too. He spoke directly to her after I had repeated all this and reassured her that he was not denigrating all that had been done in Ojai. He told me separately, when I asked how long he had known the time of his death, “Oh, about two years.” I was able to reach Mary Cadogan and give her instructions of what to say to Pupul, if Mary talks to her before Pupul comes here Saturday, that Krishnaji has told us that he’s going to meet all the Indian Foundation members and he will decide the publications and other matters. And he has asked us, KFT, not to make any decisions on publications but leave it to him. He wants Pupul to know before she arrives that he will decide only later and that he “has become very serious.”
September the twenty-sixth. ‘“Did you sleep well? Did I bully you too much? We’ll have a nice quiet day today,” he said.’
‘I replied, “It doesn’t matter. Will I see you again after you go to India?”’
‘Krishnaji: “Why do you ask?”’
‘Me: “I don’t want to be apart from you. You said yesterday you knew when you would die.”’
‘Krishnaji: “Yes, more or less, but it is not right away. If I’m going to die, I’ll telephone you, and you can come. I won’t die all of a sudden. I’m in good health. My heart, everything is all right. It is all decided by someone else. I can’t talk about it. I’m not allowed to. Do you understand? It is much more serious. There are things you don’t know, enormous, and I can’t tell you. It is very hard to find a brain like this, and it must keep on as long as the body can; until something says, ‘enough.’ If I die, you mustn’t mourn. We’ve been very close, but you are beyond all that and you mustn’t mourn as you would have in the past.”’ You see in this he mentioned “someone” and “something.” He talked jokingly about “the committee.” I don’t know, obviously, but my thoughts tend to go toward a group of something because of a strange dream I once had. I was being judged in the dream by a group of beings, and it was very vivid. It woke me up, actually. And what I felt at the time, and, I don’t know, the whole thing was a dream, so I don’t know what it was, but what I felt and probably still feel was that I was being judged whether I was suitable to be with Krishnaji and do things for him and be useful to them. Because I always felt if there’s something protecting him that thing has to have an instrument or instruments. And sometimes he speaks, as in this, “it is serious,” and he can’t talk about it. And other times when he uses the word “committee,” it’s sort of joking.
‘This conversation took place in the early morning when I brought the nettle tea. I went to my room and wept. Then the day carried on and we went to London on the 10:23 a.m. train. Dorothy was on the same train en route to a dentist. Mary and Joe met us at Waterloo and took us to Huntsman. Mary and I walked to Hilliard’s about my tweed coat and stopped at Hardy Amies, where there was nothing for me. Then we returned to Huntsman where Krishnaji had had his fitting, and we walked to Fortnum’s for our usual lunch with Mary. There I also bought peanut butter, tea, and coffee. We walked back to Hilliard’s to fetch the coat and found a cab back to Waterloo, just able to catch the 3:48 p.m. train. I felt exhausted and slept on the train. Krishnaji, more alert, got us off at Petersfield, and we found Dorothy had been on the same train. Got Krishnaji back to the haven of his clean room and a bath. The students are all here. Krishnaji and I had supper on trays with the 7 p.m. news and now early to bed.’
The twenty-seventh of September. ‘Krishnaji slept fairly well. Feeling tired but better. He thinks that an extra dose of magnesium phosphate, which he’s taking at Amanda Pallandt’s suggestion to help the tremor in his hands, is causing his stomach to be upset. He stayed in bed all day but got up for a walk. I went to the school meeting. I did some business things with my broker, got houseplants, and was back for tea, a new one called Pelham Blend suggested by the Digbys. Before supper, Krishnaji had me sit quietly, with him touching the back of my head. “I am trying to reach your brain but you keep 'slipping back'. You have a habit of eating too fast. Pay attention.”’ ‘That evening, as Krishnaji did my leg, as he has most evenings since Dr. Parchure left, we heard the news that a very large hurricane has hit the East Coast of the U.S.’
The twenty-eighth of September. ‘Krishnaji supervised my breathing and other exercises again. Pupul arrived by car at 11 a.m. to stay till Monday.’ This was a Saturday. ‘I gave her tea in the kitchen and then left her and Krishnaji to talk almost till lunchtime. I had a rest after lunch and after coffee.Erna telephoned. The attorney general wants two weeks to consider whether to sign the settlement agreement, so Avsham has asked us for a thirty-day extension of the date by which the agreement must be complete (i.e., the end of October). All had tea, including Friedrich, and then Krishnaji, Dorothy, Friedrich, and I walked around the block. Pupul had supper on trays with Krishnaji and me in his room, and afterward I invited Friedrich to come and sit and talk till 9 o’clock. Krishnaji was relaxed and animated. Perhaps glad to have said “everything” to Pupul earlier. He told me that he had pointed out what it had meant for her to give him an ultimatum about the copyright and publication matters when she came to Switzerland. He said the Foundations are one body to him, but India had made trouble over publications for thirteen years, and he was now going to settle it. He was thinking of England choosing and editing the best of all the talks in each year and publishing them in the West. India might, but this must be discussed with KFT and publishers here, have the right to publish these books in India and its territory. He said he would make the decision after talking to everyone, including all KFI members, at their next meeting in Madras. He said he told Pupul he had known for about one-and-a-half years how long he would live. That he wouldn’t tell anyone what he knew, but wanted to settle the future of everything before he died. He made Pupul listen, and told me that he said “everything” about India to her.’ That’s what he reported to me.
the twenty-ninth. ‘At 11:30 Krishnaji spoke to the school. “Why do we need to study academics? What should we learn beyond that?” Etcetera. After lunch in the West Wing kitchen, Krishnaji said that India had caused disagreement for thirteen years over publications, and that before he died he wants everything put in order. Pupul reiterated her position of every third book being submitted by India to Western publishers directly, not via KFT.’ ‘Krishnaji had earlier, to her, brought up KFT editing and publishing talks and now said he was saying to everyone that what is right is what must be done. Only in that spirit will it be right and not through formulas. Pupul reiterated that the present generation gets on, but those that come from the next generation (i.e., Radhika, Asit, etcetera) will not accept England having predominance. Krishnaji was tired and shaking and very serious, and insisting that we must do what is right, and he would not tell us what that is. Later he told me to talk to Pupul. So while he spent over an hour at 4:15 p.m. with Natasha, I made tea and asked Pupul what she thought of Krishnaji’s suggestion that each year a selection of the best of all the year’s talks be made and edited by England. She countered with India selecting the best from India. I said it seems to me that it should be the best of all the talks, not a quota from each region, though any region might suggest what seemed is its best. The decision should be by the Publication Committee. Pupul wants Indian rights to do a cheaper Indian edition. I said we’d have to find out the Gollancz and Harper position on that, but it was surely discussable. Pupul is lunching with Mary Cadogan on Tuesday and will talk about it. But Krishnaji wants a final decision after he has talked to all the Indian Foundation members.
September thirtieth. I rang Mary Cadogan with Krishnaji sitting beside me and reported what had been said with Pupul about publication problems. Krishnaji correcting me, very tense, very irritable. It was a difficult conversation. Then he said to me, when I’d hung up, “I am watching for you. When I’m in India, your brain will go unless you watch. Pay attention. You’re not paying attention. You do too many things. You are careless, you are not listening. Write down what I tell you.” He stayed in bed till walk time. He spoke of Pupul, and of her saying that she had become famous—he is shocked by this. “Is this what it has come to, fame-power?” It kept coming into his conversation all day. It rings me. He is looking around him after ninety years of pouring out his teachings and sees nothing but mediocre minds. It is as though all of us, but him, poison the life we are given, are blind and indifferent. I want to weep and the weeping seems a tawdry self-indulgence. . Krishnaji “did” my leg and went to bed.’‘
The first of October. ‘Krishnaji came in just after I woke up. He sat quietly with me. Without saying it he seemed to want to be gentle after yesterday. But Pupul’s “I am famous” line continues to shock him. “I’m not going to hold discussions with her in India.” He came into the room a few minutes ago, stood looking out the open window for it is a warm summer day, and said, “I feel it is ugly.” He was going to lunch in bed but came down at the last minute. At Doris Pratt’s request he saw her for an hour at 4 p.m. He said she was aggressive and confused. Friedrich brought a cake from a nearby farm, and he, Scott, and I had it for tea. Krishnaji joined us when he was through with Doris. And then, with Dorothy, we walked around the lane.

the second of October. ‘Krishnaji did not have a restful night. At 9 a.m. he held a meeting upstairs with the small staff group and asked about leisure, what they do with it. What is their relation to nature or not putting up with things? For Krishnaji, who has put up with appalling things in his lifetime, this question was curious. Perhaps not putting up with Pupul and other people’s shortcomings is preoccupying him. Mary Cadogan telephoned about her lunch with Pupul yesterday. Pupul is sticking to wanting every third year an Indian international publication un-vetted by England. She also alarmed Mary by saying she was publishing in her book a letter she has from Krishnaji written in 1968 telling India that England is to have the copyright and something about the Indian resignation will be an intelligent action. Mary had never heard of such a letter and neither have I. Krishnaji doesn’t remember. It dates from the time when Naudé was secretary, and we have no copies. Pupul is insistent on including it as an example of Krishnaji’s inconsistency or something. Mary urged Pupul not to publish it. It is a very divisive thing and harmful to Krishnaji. But Pupul paid no attention. Mary is coming down Monday and wants to report in detail out of fairness to the whole conversation. But she and Mary Links are wondering what other letters of Krishnaji’s Pupul is using. After lunch in bed, Krishnaji dictated to me a letter to Pupul saying he wished to see any letters of his that she intends to publish. He had me read it to both Marys. Mary Links agrees with the letter but hopes Krishnaji will wait for Mary C.’s report before sending it. He will. And Mary L. felt constrained by her own book in which she used some of his letters, but she had written the biographies at his request. Hers were authorized books. She doesn’t know if Krishnaji gave a similar authorization to Pupul. Krishnaji doesn’t think so, but Pupul may say that he has but has forgotten. I remember being present when Pupul told Krishnaji that she was going to write a sort of memoir of  “K in India.” She didn’t ask for any approval, but just said she was going to do it. Krishnaji is disturbed by all this. She’s becoming antagonistic. He wants to take enough money to India so he can go to a hotel if necessary in Delhi or to Murli Rao’s place if he feels uncomfortable in Pupul’s house. Her feeling of power and being famous is a rising disgust for him. He spent one-and-a-half hours mulling over it. These things trouble him almost obsessively these days. They tire him. He had tea with Grohe and me and a walk after around the lanes but was tense, troubled, and edgy in the evening. He said, “I may do none of these things, it’s not my business. I’ll see.” Doing my leg, he would stop as though thinking of something else then go on. He is troubled and I am heartsick. Then these seem to be things that he said to me and I wrote down on little pieces of paper.
This one says: ‘One: “To think simply and clearly.” Two: “To clear the brain of agreement and disagreement.”’ And then it says, ‘“Simplicity.”’ Then, in the same writing, so I guess it’s at the same time, is: ‘One: “Deliberation, to deliberate.” Two: “Decision.” Three: “Execution.”…“No political activity. Political equals to power seeking. No maneuvering for better power or salary. There is no climbing to higher positions or authority, for Brockwood represents not authority but the teachings. The captain of the team could be, can be, and should be replaced if he is not moving in the right direction.” “Samadhi—thought when necessary operates, otherwise the brain is quiet. K—quiet equals no association, recognition, reaction, planning, no time in sense of remembering. Maybe I may change it. It is a state that is always deep but has no depth.”’
Now this is a totally different note: ‘“There are two kinds of energies in those who are committed and those who are not committed and are therefore free. The committed—missionaries, priests, monks—their energy becomes committed and therefore is limited.”’
This is about India: ‘Before he dies, he feels it absolutely necessary to have a religious center. The trust. Krishnaji questions whether you trust him. You have often said Krishnaji is influenced…’ This is what he’s going to say to them.
The third of October. ‘Krishnaji got a little more rest. When I brought in his breakfast, he said he had just had a remarkable meditation. Perhaps that will wipe away some of the sense of problems that have harassed him. The soft Indian summer has fled, and a strong wind is flailing the trees, rushing in from the Channel. Krishnaji has just gone down for the first meeting of the term alone with the students.’
‘Later: Evelyne Blau rang from Los Angeles about the possibility of Krishnaji speaking in Toronto. He doesn’t want to. She talks of getting Norman Cousins, who didn’t accept last year, to do a video discussion with him, or Arthur Clark, who lives in Sri Lanka and didn’t try to speak to Krishnaji when he was expected to the year Krishnaji was in Sri Lanka, or Alvin Toffler, who is unlikely to be interested. She also spoke of doing video instead of film of Krishnaji answering questions. Krishnaji was very noncommittal when I reported all this at teatime. After supper Krishnaji again said to me in a most serious voice, “Will you listen? I am watching for you, but you must pay attention on the walk. You are not walking on the sides of the road.”’ Then I put in parentheses, ‘(my shoes had picked up a lot of dirt).’ Then, ‘“You must watch everything you do.” It is at the end of the day when he is most tired that the least thing seems impossible to him. Things seem black and white. The least thing is irritating, seen as part of larger wrong things.
October the fifth. ‘At 11:30 a.m. Krishnaji talked alone with the students. I ran three videos we made a year ago of half-hour sessions of Krishnaji answering one basic question each. One was on conditioning, one was on fear, both with me as the questioner, and one was on what is religion with me and Ray McCoy doing the questions. Keith Critchlow and his wife Gail came to lunch. Critchlow gave a talk to the school at 4 p.m., which Krishnaji attended. But after tea upstairs he was tired and went to bed. I walked with Dorothy. It was a bright beautiful afternoon with cool air and a light breeze. Krishnaji had turned on the lights when I brought his supper tray and said he wasn’t tired. After supper he said to me, as long as we live together he will point out things to me. After that, it is up to me. We watched a Paul Daniel’s magic show on TV, which Krishnaji enjoyed.

The seventh of October: ‘ Krishnaji decided not to send the letter he dictated last week to Pupul, but to approach the situation through her daughter, Radhika, when he sees her in Benares. He asked what would happen if he resigned from the KFI. He feels uncomfortable at being Pupul’s guest in Delhi if he has to confront her while he is there. He asked me earlier to see that he had money with him to pay for a hotel if necessary or he would go to Murli Rao’s. He asked if Gollancz would agree to India publishing in India and its area one annual collection of the best of the year’s talks, which will be edited by England. He agreed that a question-and-answer section of meetings belongs with the talks. Krishnaji may ask India to publish this annual book and see to its translations into Indian languages. Mary Cadogan reported carefully on her meeting with Pupul last Tuesday. Pupul insisted administration is separate from the teachings and we should settle such matters without Krishnaji.’
‘She tried to get Mary to say what she would agree to, but Mary said it was out of her hands, as Krishnaji is going to make the decision, which Pupul had originally suggested. Pupul would like to wriggle out of this now, and will not admit the teachings are at the heart of this. She insists it is a matter of structure only. She insists that the next generation in India will not accept restrictions. Mary said Pupul voluntarily admitted that she has a remnant of anti-British feelings from the Raj days. This came after Mary said that some Indians say the British are racist.’ ‘About Pupul’s book, Mary is concerned by Pupul’s including a Krishnaji letter written in 1968 making England responsible for things. We do not know in what context the letter was written or how Pupul wants to use it. Possibly it reflects feelings at the time when India didn’t want Krishnaji on their board’—which they didn’t—‘but they had Rajagopal on it, and kept Rajagopal on the board for two years after Krishnaji had disassociated himself from Rajagopal. Mary said Pupul is not antagonistic to Krishnaji, is devoted, but Mary feels she is somewhat arrogant in writing to explain Krishnaji. Krishnaji may ask to see all letters of his that Pupul wants to publish and review them after his return to Ojai. It was agreed that the Brockwood talks next year will have caravans to rent but no camping. We discussed Brockwood’s building needS: re-roofing with lead and exterior plaster on top of the basic brick, which needs to be redone. We talked about indexing and a report on the subject by Harsh. We discussed a telephone conversation with Bill Quinn in which he said there is a feeling that Albion’s excerpting is similar to an anthology, which we have rejected. What is needed is a straight index in subjects, computerizing it, possibly. We suggested asking Jane to coordinate this. We discussed changing the dates of the annual audit and the annual general meeting of the KFT board.’
‘Krishnaji rested after lunch but rejoined us at 4:15 p.m. We had tea, and there was no walk. Krishnaji asked us how to bring about trust in the Indian Foundation. He said they do not trust each other or him, and he has been unable to change this. He spoke again about the teachings being put second to structure in Ojai, India, everywhere. I said that was an unfair indictment, and it was a damning thing for anyone who has been close to Krishnaji to put the teaching second to organization. Krishnaji said he was not making an indictment. I say he may not have meant it to be, but to me it would be a shocking fact or act to put the teachings second to anything. I said some people (by implication Ojai) had situational trouble, which they had to cope with, but it didn’t mean they felt the teachings were secondary. It was then 6:15 p.m. and school meeting time. Later, when I came up with Krishnaji’s supper tray, he said I should not have made him defend what he said. What he said was that the teachings were not flowering. I said that we see that but do not know how to bring it about. This is not caused by denigration of the teachings. I felt exhausted by all this, and Krishnaji was tired.

The ninth of October: ‘Krishnaji, in the elegance of one of his blue suits, and I, in my tweed coat that is descended from an old favorite brown one, went to London on a bright autumn morning and on the 10:23 a.m. train. Both Mary and Joe met us at Waterloo and took us to Huntsman for Krishnaji’s fitting. Then Mary came with Krishnaji and me to Fortnum’s for a leisurely lunch. We bought some Russian and Polish vodka for Dr. Reilly, who is said to have a little glass before dinner every evening’ [chuckles] ‘and who never sends us a bill when he makes house calls. We stopped at Hatchards for books and took a taxi to Waterloo. A simple day in the warm, gentle mold of so many almost identical ones. I rode down White Hall with Krishnaji holding my hand in a haze of happiness. The clear country air was part of it when we came home, and a circle against the current world where race riots trashed Brixton and Tottenham, and four Palestinians have hijacked an Italian cruise ship in the Mediterranean, shooting an American who was a Jewish man in a wheelchair and dumping him overboard.’
SThe next day. ‘Krishnaji reviewed my exercises. A 'Marine sergeant' is he.‘At 11:30 a.m. he spoke alone with students. Jane came to lunch and I asked her if she would coordinate the index project if we can ever all agree on how it should be done.’

The next day. ‘Krishnaji checked my exercises in the morning. Rita Zampese came to lunch and brought Krishnaji’s Lufthansa ticket for India. Tea with the de Maurexes and Scott, and then a walk that included Dorothy.’
The fourteenth. ‘At 4 p.m. Mrs. Barbara Jackson brought the venerable Ananda Maitreya and two “attendant monks” to see Krishnaji. They brought a nice plant offering, too, appreciated more by me.’ ‘It seems the venerable Ananda Maitreya has also arrived at ninety years and seemed to wish to share this eminence. I provided tea. They do not take milk. I don’t know if this is to taste or some Buddhist proscription. Krishnaji was charming and joking, but impaled the 'venerable' with the question, “What did the Buddha really say?”’ ‘He went on to enlarge on the fact that no one really knows. The venerable giggled a bit’ ‘but gave nothing much in return.’ ‘The attendant, Mrs. Jackson, seemed to enjoy this. “He needs to be talked to this way,” she said. Krishnaji let them stay so long that there could be no walk.’ .
October fifteenth, 1985, It is just before his trip to India. ‘Krishnaji stayed in bed resting all day but came into the kitchen for tea and talked about trust. Are there a few we trust to carry on the work and to protect the teachings? He spoke of there being virtually nobody in Ojai except the Lilliefelts and me. India is pulling away and is still a concern to him. Who? Who?—everywhere—to protect this precious jewel.

October eighteenth. Krishnaji, and I made an audiotape about what Pandit Jagannath Upadhyaya had told him about the ancient text that the Pandit had been told by his teacher to find and which, after decades, he found, foretelling a World Teacher manifestation. After Krishnaji described it, he said, “I could probably investigate this, but I don’t want to. It wouldn’t be right.” Mrs. Alexander, wife of the Indian high commissioner, came alone to lunch. She is a nice woman, interested in the school, and had been a Montessori teacher. Her husband is so busy in the aftermath of Rajiv Gandhi’s brief visit to London and the heavy security due to Sikh plots that he couldn’t come. Erna telephone from Ojai. The attorney general has refused to sign the settlement agreement with Rajagopal. An addendum to it is being drawn up to state the settlement is accepted without the attorney general. But it has to be signed over here by Krishnaji, me, and Tilly Von Egmond. How to get it here before Krishnaji’s leaving for India next Thursday?’ I think Erna flew over. I don’t know.

The nineteenth of October. ‘At 11:30 a.m. there was a videotaped discussion with Krishnaji on what is the ground of a religious place—of something sacred in a center or a school. He turned the question back on us. What did we think it was? It went backward and forward a bit. I said our answer would be in what we did in the future, but he is here and what is wanted now is his envision-ment of what should be. He finally said, “It should be a religious center. A center where people feel there is something not cooked up, not imaginative, not some kind of ‘holy’ atmosphere; a religious center, not in the orthodox sense of that word; a center where a flame is living, not the ashes of it. If a flame is alive, and if you come to that house, you might take light, that flame with you; or you might light your candle and be the most extraordinary human being, not broken up; a person who is really whole, has no shadow of sorrow, pain, and all that kind of thing. So that to me is a religious center.” The Bohms and Mark Edwards were at lunch, and afterward Mark took photos against the light background of my room of Krishnaji and David for the next book’—he wanted a white background, that’s why it was done there—‘The Future of Humanity, which is edited by Mary Cadogan from the last two dialogues that Krishnaji and David did some time ago. Erna telephoned, saying the only way she can get the papers here for signatures is to bring them herself. She arrives Tuesday. After tea, Krishnaji, Scott, and I walked.’
The twentieth. ‘Three computer experts doing research on artificial intelligence came to lunch, and they want to do a video discussion with Krishnaji in June. I telephoned Tilly Von Egmond in Holland, and she agreed to come here at KFA’s expense to sign the papers Erna will bring. I called Erna to tell her this. Krishnaji spoke to the small staff group upstairs.’

October twenty-first, our trip to London. ‘We were ten minutes late leaving but made the train at Petersfield. We had a second-class ticket but sat side by side in first class because second class was so crowded. Though there were others in the carriage, he quietly felt for my hand, saying in a low voice, “I need to hold a hand,” and after a minute he nodded to me and said, “I’m alright now.” He was somewhat not there; distracted. But whenever I would glance at him he would nod to show that everything was alright. Joe and Mary met us at Waterloo and dropped us at Truefitt, where he had his hair cut. I went up Bond Street on some errands, and when I came back, he had just finished and was there smiling. I showed him some shoes in the Chanel window, and he thought they were nice, and said I should get them.’ ‘We walked down to Hatchards, and he looked at books. Then he needed a bathroom, so we went up in the lift, and when we came down again to the basement where the paperbacks are, where he had been so many times, he couldn’t make out where he was. I had to show him the stairs we always used. And then he said, “Yes,” he knew now where he was. We found the books he wanted—thrillers by Charles McCarry, who he says is good. Then we joined Mary for lunch. A pleasant lunch, but, as he does so often these days, he asked what would happen when he is gone. Who will decide about publications? Mary said we would decide together. The thing that is worrying and is on his mind so much at this time is India’s inability to feel part of one thing. They feel rather defiantly separate, and this is on his mind. We went to the dentist quickly and quite terrifyingly as he darted across Piccadilly to catch a taxi. Mr. Thompson didn’t do very much, and a radio cab was called. We thought we had missed the 4:20 p.m. train, but it was there. He sat opposite me in the second-class section.’ He didn’t want to be in first class anymore. He once—I think he didn’t know what it cost—and at one point I think I gave him the money while I parked the car and that’s when it dawned on him how much first class was, as compared to second-class. And from then on we went in second-class. ‘He sat opposite me in the second-class section, which was crowded and noisy, and though he was tired, he didn’t look tired. He was alert, bright, watching everybody, and looking extraordinarily young and vulnerable, aware of everything and infinitely extraordinary. I try not to think of things that may happen, can happen. Every inch of each day is so precious that I can’t speak of what I feel about him. He was tired when we reached Brockwood and went right to bed. When I brought his tray, he didn’t touch it at first, but then he did and ate slowly. I worry. The other day, when we were walking, he said suddenly, “I wish I could see a deer looking at us.”’
October twenty-second. ‘In the early morning, when I went in to see Krishnaji, he asked me to lie down quietly, and I did for a while. When I got up, he said, “I’m glad you lay down. It calms the body.”’ I just lay there, and the 'presence ' seemed to do it. When he falls asleep, not at night, but when he does during the day, what he calls “shouting” comes upon him. He cries out, and it wakes him with a start. He had been doing that, and apparently my lying quietly calmed and quieted him. But he was tired.’ ‘I drove to Heathrow and met Erna bringing the addendum to the settlement agreement for our signatures. We talked about everything on the way back and reached Brockwood by 2:30 p.m. We had a late lunch in our kitchen. Krishnaji was with us and talked with us, Erna took down carefully in shorthand the text of

(...) Erna took down carefully in shorthand the text of the changes in the addendum, and it was almost an hour’s conversation. She then retyped the whole thing on my typewriter at 11 p.m. while I fell asleep.’
The twenty-third. ‘I woke up, still in my dressing gown, and went to call Erna at 6 a.m. for another telephoning to Stuart Comis. First to learn if Rajagopal was in agreement with the changes he had demanded yesterday and which Erna typed last night. Because of the eight-hour difference in time, it was last night in California when we rang this morning, and Comis was to have heard if Rajagopal still agreed after he had seen, in writing, what he had demanded. Predictably, he wanted more changes. And so Erna again typed it. Finally, Krishnaji, I, and Tilly all signed this. Friedrich arrived from Buchillon. Mary Cadogan came down. Keith Critchlow came with more detailed plans and samples of building materials we might use.

October the twenty-fourth. ‘In the early morning Krishnaji checked my breathing exercises. Erna left by taxi for Heathrow and Ojai. Krishnaji had lunch on a tray in bed and got up only in time to leave for Heathrow at 4:30 p.m. To me he said, “I’ll be back.” I had asked him, as he didn’t want me to go to India, “Will I ever see you again?” And it was to this he replied, “Yes. I’ll be back.”. We were silent in the car, which seemed to move smoothly because it was carrying him, its raison d’être. Life was full because he was there. There is only that intact, in control, and the road to navigate safely. A dull brightness came from the west, slanting between the clouds. Some seagulls so far from the sea were over the chestnut-colored plowed fields, and I felt as if they were flying through me. Rita met us at the Lufthansa counter. There was some fuss, which I hardly saw because I was with Krishnaji, which apparently was brought on by Friedrich’s insistence on carrying on board all of his luggage, two huge backpacks. Rita later told me he had wanted to carry on his luggage because he thought he would be left to find it at the Delhi airport and not be able to go in the car with Krishnaji. I had told him how everything is taken care of there, but he evidently didn’t believe it. Krishnaji didn’t want any book at the airport. He had some with him. I went as far as I could with him, and with a look back, he disappeared into immigration. The whole meaning of life is in that small, elegant figure in his overcoat, shoulder bag, moving on his route, beautiful and extraordinary beyond any describing and more dear than any human being. Rita escorted him and Friedrich onboard, and they flew on Lufthansa number 037 to Frankfurt. And at 9:20 p.m. for Delhi, where they are due to land in the morning at 10 a.m. This flight has a single seat, the one Krishnaji likes on the right side forward. It is a nonstop flight

October twenty-fifth: ‘Krishnaji is due to have landed in Delhi at 10 a.m.’ On October twenty-sixth, ‘Erna phoned me to tell me that Rajagopal has reneged on the settlement and wants “philosophic” changes in the agreement. Erna is to see Cohen on Monday.’
On the twenty-ninth, ‘Erna rang again after her meeting with Cohen, who says that Rajagopal wants us to defend him against any questions the attorney general might raise against him,’ ‘which Cohen says is impossible. I gave my first letter to Krishnaji to Jean François, who is flying to Benares tomorrow.’
On November second, ‘Krishnaji should be flying from Delhi to Benares.’

 
On November eleventh, ‘took the 10:40 a.m. Lufthansa nonstop to Los Angeles business class. Arrived at 1:30 p.m. Alan Kishbaugh met me and drove me through Malibu to Ojai. One-and-a-half inches of rain had fallen. The Moodys brought me supper.’
November thirteenth. ‘There is now a library of Krishnaji’s books at Arya Vihara, and Vivian Moody showed me how it was set up, and I took charge of it from 1 p.m. to 4 p.m.’

November twentieth. ‘Rajagopal telephoned Erna about his anxiety that the attorney general might accuse him.’ And it looks like I’m working at the Arya Vihara library every day from 1 p.m. to 4 p.m.
November twenty-third, ‘The first letter from Krishnaji arrived, written October twenty-eighth to November eleventh in Delhi, Benares, and another letter from Dr. Parchure reassuring me about Krishnaji’s health.
On the twenty-fifth, Krishnaji went back to Delhi. One has to fly to Delhi to get from Benares to Madras.
November twenty-seventh. ‘The Moodys left for Brockwood and India. Krishnaji arrived in Madras.’
Two days later. ‘Erna received $25,000 from K&R Foundation for KFA with a letter from Rajagopal, a copy of which he wants sent to Krishnaji.’ That was an unusual event.

December third. ‘The first audiotaped letter one from Krishnaji arrived.’ This is where he dictated it November three through ten. It was wonderful.’
And the next day, ‘Another tape arrived, number two, from Krishnaji dictated from November eleven to seventeen.’
December eighth. ‘I gave a tea party here for the Oak Grove School staff, the office staff, and the volunteers.’
And the next day. ‘I brought Bill Taylor, who arrived last night from Brockwood and is staying at Oak Grove School, over here to visit Pine Cottage and the office.’
December tenth. ‘There is a conference of all of Krishnaji’s schools in Rishi Valley

The thirteenth. ‘Rajagopal rang Erna and said he would like to talk to her and me.’
December seventeenth. ‘There was a letter from Krishnaji written in Rishi Valley.’
The twentieth. ‘I sent Krishnaji an air ticket for Mrs. Parchure to go to Brockwood.’
The next day. ‘Krishnaji was scheduled to go from Rishi Valley to Madras.’

December twenty-third. ‘The Moodys telephoned me from Bangalore. Krishnaji will decide after the first Madras talk on the twenty-eighth whether to cancel the rest of India and return here with them and Parchure on the tenth of January. They will telephone again Sunday morning. I am to keep this information secret meanwhile, except from Erna and Theo. Erna brought me the third and fourth audiocassette letters from Krishnaji in Rajghat and Rishi Valley.’ ‘I listened to them most of the day.’
The twenty-seventh. ‘I got a letter from Dr. Parchure about Krishnaji’s health written on December eleventh.’
The next day. Krishnaji gave his first Madras talk on this date.’
 

December twenty-ninth. Krishnaji is arriving in Madras on January thirteen on Singapore Airlines with Dr. Parchure, and probably the Moodys. He is giving three talks in Madras, then attending KFI trustee meetings, then he leaves. Bombay is canceled.

This post was last updated by John Raica Mon, 24 Jun 2019.

On the first of January, 1986. I am in Ojai, and Krishnaji is still in India. ‘I went for an early walk then spoke to my brother in New York. I went with Erna and Theo to the movie Out of Africa in Oxnard, after which we had an early supper at a Mexican restaurant. Krishnaji was to have given his today.’
January second. ‘I worked at my desk all morning, then after lunch, from 1 p.m. to 4 p.m. I manned the Krishnaji library in Arya Vihara. The house painter began work on the decks and trim outside the cottage. At 6 p.m. I went with Erna and Theo for dinner at the Ranch House Restaurant with the Hookers.’
 On January fourth, ‘There is rain. The Moodys are to arrive tomorrow. Krishnaji should have given his third Madras talk in Madras, completing the talks in India for this year. He will hold KFI trustee meetings on Wednesday’—this was written on a Saturday. ‘I marketed for the Moodys and made soup for all in Arya Vihara tomorrow. Ivan stood in for me in the library.’ That means Ivan Berkowitz.

January six: ‘Alasdair planted new flowerbeds off the north terrace. The Moodys’ doctor brought to me four audiocassettes from Krishnaji and some audiocassettes of the educational conference held at Rishi Valley. Krishnaji has resigned as president of KFI. Michael Krohnen arrived from India and Germany.’
There is nothing much on the seventh except that I listened to the tapes I received yesterday.
On January eighth, ‘I drove to Malibu listening to the audiocassette of January second, when Krishnaji met KFI members about not using his name. I sat with Amanda, whose eye is still in a patch. Philippa and Phil were there. Then Philippa and I went to town and lunched in Beverly Hills. We both went to get cheese, croissants, etcetera. I dropped her at Amanda’s and drove home.’
January tenth: ‘I made final preparations of the house for Krishnaji’s arrival tomorrow. The house painting is completed, the house cleaned, the garden planting is all done, and everything is put in order. It is a warm day: eighty-seven degrees.’

January eleventh. ‘I left at 7 a.m. for Los Angeles airport and met Mark Lee there. Krishnaji’s flight from Singapore and Tokyo arrived at 9:30 a.m. He came right out in a wheelchair looking very frail and very, very thin. Krishnaji and I drove in the green car, which he had asked for, to Ojai. Krishnaji was home and in bed by 1 o’clock. It was a warm sunny day for him. He looks very fragile and tired, but stood the trip well. Krishnaji wanted to be out of India and as soon as we were alone in the car he told me that for two to three days I must not leave him, even for a moment,  “Or he may slip away.” He told me that in India he had said to himself, “I mustn’t be ill because then I wouldn’t see you again,” and “‘It’ doesn’t want to inhabit a sick body, one that couldn’t function. We must not have an accident because if I were hurt that would be the end.” Later he said to me, “While I am here I want to share my meditation with you. I’ve never said that to anyone”…“I came back to see you and to die. If I die, it’s alright. If I live, it’s alright. But one must not invite death, and I don’t. I came back to be taken care of by you.” I stayed with him constantly, sleeping on cushions on the floor by his bed. In the evening, his fever was 100.9. He slept fairly well that first night. But his fever went to 101.6, so Dr. Parchure gave him aspirin and it dropped to 98 by evening. He remained in bed.
The next day. ‘Krishnaji slept fairly well and remained in bed all day. I couldn’t reach Dr. Deutsch but arranged for him to see Krishnaji the next day,’
Thirteenth January: We drove to Santa Paula where Dr. Deutsch examined Krishnaji at 11 a.m. He found Krishnaji’s prostate to be soft and thinks that’s a possible site of the infection behind Krishnaji’s fever. Krishnaji’s blood sugar count is 243. He doubled the dose of Rastinon to bring it down, and prescribed Bactrim for the infection. And Restoril instead of Halcion for sleep. We went to Santa Paula hospital for blood chemistry, etcetera, and were home by 1:30 p.m. for lunch. Krishnaji had some energy for the trip and then slept all afternoon.’
January fourteen: ‘Krishnaji was weak and drowsy, with a fever of 101.4. He’s taking Bactrim. I stayed by his bed constantly, as I have right along, and it was a difficult night, with him needing to get up many times.’
Wednesday the fifteenth. ‘Krishnaji seemed as if over-sedated. Either the new sleeping tablet, Restoril, is affecting him too much, or his body is not excreting it in the time it should. Dr. Deutsch gave partial findings of the blood chemistry and said that Krishnaji is anemic. The white count is up. There is some liver impairment, which is the cause of the sleeping medication not being thrown off. He wants a sonogram of Krishnaji’s liver, gallbladder, and pancreas. Krishnaji saw the Lilliefelts for the first time. They have had a cousin of Theo’s staying with them, and Krishnaji talked of problems in India, his distrust of Pupul, Sunanda, and Pama. He says he has confidence in Radhika, Maheshji, who is now secretary of KF India, Upasani, and the new Dr. P. Krishna, first cousin of Radha Burnier, a physicist teaching at Benares Hindu University and who is now both a member of KFI and principal of the Rajghat school. Krishnaji wants a group of two or three trustees of each of the three Foundations to be responsible for holding the Foundations together when he is no longer here to do it.’
January sixteenth. ‘Krishnaji had a very interrupted night, needing frequently to get up, though he slept in between. His temperature at 5:45 a.m. was 99.4, at 7:30 it was 100.4, at noon it went to 101.7, and at 1:45 it went to 102. Parchure is measuring fluids in and out. Krishnaji drinks Perrier in between meals.’
The seventeenth: ‘At 6 a.m. Krishnaji’s temperature was 100. Dr. Deutsch wants a sonogram done in the Ojai hospital Monday. I stayed close to him. “I need protection,” he said.’
The next day. ‘Dr. Deutsch recommended lots of fluids, and Krishnaji took in forty-nine ounces during the day. His fever was 99.6 by 6 p.m. Dr. Parchure did a blood sugar test on Saturday morning and it was 183. His night again was disturbed by needing to get up frequently. During the night, at 1:30 a.m., he had some stomach pain, which a Phazyme tablet relieved.’
The nineteenth of January: ‘Krishnaji had forty-two ounces of fluid. At 6 a.m. his temperature was 99.3, and at 5 p.m. it was 100. He took Halcion and slept from 8 to 1:30 a.m. In the day, Krishnaji dressed, and walked slowly down the drive to the gate and back to the pepper tree where he sat and rested.’
The twentieth of January: ‘Krishnaji had stomach pain again at 1:30 a.m. His temperature was 99 at 7 a.m. Krishnaji had a sonogram in the Ojai hospital. Dr. P. Miller there reported to Dr. Deutsch a 'mass' in Krishnaji’s liver. He couldn’t see the pancreas well enough, and there is sludge in the gallbladder, possibly gallstones. Dr. Deutsch says he cannot tell if the mass is malignant or benign and wants a CT scan on Wednesday, which should tell.’
The twenty-first of January: ‘Krishnaji finds the food uneatable and blames it on Michael’s cooking, but it isn’t that.’ Michael was cooking so delicately ‘The new medical scale I purchased’‘says Krishnaji’s weight is ninety-four pounds. Krishnaji got up and looked at the new rose garden. Then he walked with Dr. Parchure to the end of the drive, and Krishnaji wanted to go on. So they went up McAndrew and into Arya Vihara, resting on the way. Then across the new stones in the drain are of the orchard and to the pepper tree. Krishnaji rested, and then he entered the house.
January twenty-two. ‘Krishnaji began to have pain across his upper abdomen, which woke him at 2 a.m., but though I asked, he denied it till 4 a.m., when he accepted a Tylenol. His temperature at 5:30 a.m. was 98. At 7:45 a.m. another Tylenol, but he still had no relief. At 8:45 a.m. he vomited stringy mucus and something brown, possible blood. I rang Dr. Deutsch, who said he needs Krishnaji to be in the hospital. I explained this to Krishnaji, who agreed to go.’

At the Santa Paula Community Hospital, Krishnaji was put into intensive care. He was given Demerol and an IV. X-ray and blood chemistry were begun. Dr. Deutsch came to meet him. The X-rays showed a bowel obstruction. Krishnaji agreed to a tube through his nose into the abdomen to pump ot the fluid and relieve the pressure. Rocephin and high alimentation were given intravenously. Krishnaji is severely undernourished. I spent the night on a reclining chair by his bed.’
The twenty-third of January: ‘Dr. Cooley, a surgeon, examined Krishnaji, who was very weak, and said that he advised against any surgery. There is a complicated picture of the mass in the liver, the gallbladder sludge, and an unknown pancreatic situation. Dr. Slater, a colleague of Dr. Deutsch, examined Krishnaji, and ordered batteries of blood and other tests. Mark Renneker’—who you specialized in cancer—‘telephoned me in the afternoon, having talked to Deutsch, and was optimistic. He says liver cancer is rare at Krishnaji’s age and that Krishnaji has resources in his body to dominate illness.’ Mark was always trying to, I think, bolster my state of mind by saying that Krishnaji has extraordinary reserves—that he’s not an ordinary patient. And I remember his saying that Krishnaji was in control of his body.
‘I telephoned Vanda in Florence to let her know Krishnaji was sick and in hospital.’ I thought she should know and she might want to come. I thought she would come, but she didn’t do that.
Late in the afternoon, Parchure said he had long ago promised to tell Krishnaji if medically he, Parchure, saw a danger of death. When I came in after Parchure told him that, Krishnaji said to me, “It seems I’m going to die,” as though he had not expected it so soon but accepted the fact.’
January twenty-fourth. ‘In the morning, around 6 a.m., I telephoned Mario about his letter saying Filomena was in the hospital, and he told me on the phone that she had died last Monday, the twentieth, in the hospital. Only later did his telegram reach here.’
‘On the way into the hospital in the morning with Dr. Parchure, he told me in the car that he had noticed jaundice beginning in Krishnaji and feared a hepatitic coma. But when we got there, Krishnaji’s vital signs were better and the bowel obstruction situation was improved. He was given one pint of blood in a transfusion. The surgeon, Dr. Cooley, tried to put a larger needle, a sort of catheter, into a larger vein in Krishnaji’s neck as the small ones in his hands are deteriorating; but it hurt him, the vein in his neck proved too deep to reach, so he had to close that incision and make one under the clavicle, which worked. Krishnaji bore all this with Novocain and patience. His jaundice is lessened.’
I telephoned Vanda and Mary Lutyens and said it was uncertain how long Krishnaji could live. The latter is coming when she can get a visa. I told Vanda the uncertainty of how long Krishnaji might live, but Krishnaji seemed better by evening.
S: No, it was that Krishnaji didn’t need whole blood. I couldn’t donate because I had had hepatitis, but there were a lot of people around Ojai who would have happily donated, but Krishnaji needed a processed blood product and it would’ve taken over a week, even if they’d rushed it, to get out of the blood what it was that Krishnaji needed. I don’t know what that was.
I don’t know if it’s in my diaries as at some point I had to stop writing. Asit, later on—it was at Brockwood, I think—said that Krishnaji was no longer the World Teacher because he’d accepted a transfusion of blood.
January twenty-fifth. ‘I took Dr. Parchure back to the Santa Paula hospital. Krishnaji had slept better, in spite of heart fibrillation, probably due to the blood transfusion, said Dr. Deutsch. As there is no longer the bowel obstruction, the tube from his nose was removed. Krishnaji said, “I feel like a new man.”’ ‘Deutsch and Parchure reviewed all possible reasons for what has happened. The CT scan on Monday will answer much. I prepared for Krishnaji’s return home on Wednesday. Mary Cadogan arrives tomorrow. Pupul and Asit Thursday, probably. I spent the night with Krishnaji.’
The twenty-sixth of January. ‘I spent the night with Krishnaji in the hospital. He had many awakenings but spoke of meditation having been present. I barely dozed, waiting to help him, watching the pattern, like Sanskrit, of his heartbeat on the monitor. ‘Life becomes that beat. The rise and fall of his breathing. He is alive and so all the ugliness, the violence, the wretchedness of the world seems held at bay by that small body and its vastness of spirit. He is, as always, infinitely beautiful. He turned his head this morning and looked out the window where he could just see the hills, and his face seemed suddenly thirty years old. Dr. Deutsch found him well this morning. The jaundice is gone and he has gained two-and-a-half pounds on the IV hyperalimentation.
Yesterday, Krishnaji said almost to himself, “What have I done wrong?…I’ve tried to take care of the body,” Later he said that he’d had a long meditation in the night.’

M: January twenty-seventh. ‘To the hospital early. Krishnaji said to me, “I want to tell you something. It is hard to find words. You must have an insight into it. I will die, and I want to leave you something. In India they are too quick to think they understand these things. I am skeptical. One must be. But Americans are immature. You must just listen without trying to understand. I feel it is something more vast than one can ever put into words.”’
‘Krishnaji had a CT scan that showed a three-inch mass in his liver but cannot show if it is malignant. Dr. Deutsch wants to do a liver biopsy tomorrow. Krishnaji is still running a fever and is on antibiotics and hyperalimentation. Mark Renneker telephoned and we had a long talk. He is in touch with Dr. Deutsch. He says Krishnaji is still in control of his illness. Parchure stayed in the hospital with Krishnaji. I slept at home.’
The twenty-eighth of January. ‘I telephoned Vanda and Mary Links before going to the hospital. The latter is coming with Joe on Friday. Krishnaji is feeling stronger, and he talked to me most of the morning about how I should live when he is gone. He says he will probably live until the end of February. “You must not grieve as you did before. You must be strong. You have a lot of work to do. You reflect me.” All the tests so far indicate cancer, but not exactly where. Around lunchtime a liver biopsy was attempted but failed. It was thought it would not be painful, but it was. Krishnaji winced, and the needle missed the tumor and was discontinued. It was a mistake and should not have been done, as he was disturbed and restless afterwards. He had been so much stronger in the morning. I stayed with him till late, but he insisted I sleep at home. “It is alright. The pain pushed ‘it (‘the other’) away but ‘it’ wants to come back. It is beginning to come back.” I said to him, “You told me this morning do not let him slip away.” Krishnaji replied, “Nothing will happen tonight. I know what I’m talking about. You must rest. When I’m home, you will have a lot to do. I don’t know why ‘it’ wants to come back.”’
‘In the morning he had also said, “It is strange: ‘the other’ doesn’t want to let go of the body. The last two nights ‘the other’ has taken control.” And then he said to me, “I want you to live as when I was your companion. Go to Brockwood. The West Wing is yours. I have said this before.” And in the afternoon, he said, “I wonder why ‘the other’ is not finished with the body.” And then, with humor, he said, “Who was it that said, ‘I cannot imagine a world without me?’
January twenty-ninth. ‘Krishnaji had a restless night. Dr. Deutsch gave him a steroid for strength and talked to him about what he, Krishnaji, wanted. It was a bad day. Pain came again. Krishnaji asked, “Can I last till they come?” meaning the three he has sent for from India, Dr. Krishna, Radhika, and Maheshji. In the evening, Dr. Deutsch persuaded him to try a catheter and then he slept undisturbed all night. Remember. The normal reading of this (cancer) test is 0 to 40. Krishnaji’s is 105,000. That is the final piece of knowledge. Krishnaji will go home tomorrow. He said to me, “There is so much love and so much pain in the air.”’ That was the deciding day. That was the end of the hospital. Nothing could be done. He could go home.
January thirtieth. ‘Krishnaji slept without pain. I left the hospital at 4:30 a.m. to be home when the day nurse arrived. Mark Lee has lent his hospital bed and assembled all necessary equipment in Krishnaji’s room. It now has a hospital setup. Krishnaji came home in an ambulance through heavy rain. “I feel better here,” he said when he was in his room again. And soon he began to read in his Golden Treasury. And then Paul Theroux, The Consul File.’ ‘He wanted something to eat, and I brought him some clear soup and a little homemade ice cream. Later he had tea and asked for a sandwich, “with a little green,”  “something tasty,” tomatoes. But it was a mistake and later there were gas pains. He asked too for music, “something gay.” Pavarotti singing Neapolitan songs was chosen, and for a bewildering time the house rang with Napoli. In the afternoon, he talked a little about a responsible group to hold the three Foundations together and see to the teachings. Later, there was pain again in his stomach. It was a hard night until 2:30 a.m., when he slept. He had said to me, “Don’t be unhappy” and “Maria, will it be this all night? I want to go.”’
January thirty-first. ‘Krishnaji was in almost a stupor when Dr. Deutsch telephoned. He thought it was the effect of the morphine and came at 2:30 p.m. to see Krishnaji and counteract the morphine. Krishnaji was better. Dorothy, Jane Hammond, Mary, and Joe arrived from London. Mary and Joe are in the guest flat. Jane is at Evelyne’s, and Dorothy is at the Hookers’. Dr. Krishna is at Arya Vihara. Indira and Chandra Mauli are at Mark Lee’s.’ ‘In the evening Pupul, Radhika, and Asit arrived at Arya Vihara.’
The first of February. ‘Krishnaji was weak, sleeping most of the morning. He barely spoke when Pupul, Radhika, Asit, and Dr. Krishna came in briefly in the morning. But he was free of pain and very lucid at 2 p.m. when Deutsch came, and Krishnaji then saw Radhika and Dr. Krishna, two of the four he had summoned. Deutsch answered Asit’s questions. All are in agreement for giving whatever Krishnaji wants to help the pain and sleep. In the evening Krishnaji slept without morphine or sleep medicine.
The second of February. ‘Krishnaji slept without morphine or sleep tablets and was alert and without pain all day. He talked to me about being strong when he is gone; that I reflect him; and that I must live the way that I have lived with him. Deutsch came to see him in the morning, and Pupul came to meet Dr. Deutsch. Krishnaji saw, in the course of the day, Pupul, Mary Links, Radhika, Dr. Krishnaji, Asit, Mary Cadogan, Erna, Dorothy, and Jane Hammond.’
On February 3-rd Krishnaji was without pain. He held a meeting on publication matters with representatives of all three Foundations. Only England is to correct his works. Pupul was not there, but her certain opposition was expressed. Krishnaji has energy but wants “to go.” He said he had a marvelous meditation in the night. In the afternoon, in a wheelchair, we took him outside, down the path to the pepper tree, where he could see the hills. He asked to be alone there and sat motionless and silent and then asked to return indoors.
The fourth of February: ‘Krishnaji slept quite well. Dr. Deutsch came to see him, and they talked at length. Deutsch says he is in an upswing, a possible remission. He said that Krishnaji could be the way he was for some time—possibly be able to write or dictate, but that if he worsened, he would not let Krishnaji be in pain. He got him up into that kind of wheelchair but after Gary left, Krishnaji decided to walk on his own back to bed and did.’ He was shivering afterward. ‘Parchure massaged his legs and feet.’

The fifth of February. ‘In the morning Krishnaji spoke to a group: Pupul, Radhika, Asit, Krishna, Maheshji (just arrived), Dr. Parchure, Mary L., Mary C., Jane Hammond, Erna, Theo, Mark Lee, and David Moody. “As long as the body lives, I am still the Teacher.” He wept. In the afternoon, he spoke alone with Dr. Krishna and Maheshji and recorded his wish that no one be president or secretary of the Foundations who is not doing that primarily—not people who have other jobs.
M: February sixth. ‘Krishnaji slept through the night but had nine awakenings during the evening. He talked to me in the early morning, “Who are your friends? I want you to be looked after when I’m gone. K has protected you, but he can’t when he’s gone. I love you and want you to be protected. You must be careful. You must drive as if I was sitting beside you. Who will go to Huntsman with you?”’ ‘“Will you and Mary lunch at Fortnum’s? I have been your companion. We’ve done things together. I want you to be looked after. You must go to Paris, the Dordogne, on holiday to Switzerland. You must use the money in the Teacher’s Trust, it is yours. I give it to you to use as you choose. Have you enough money? You mustn’t go to India anymore. India is bad for you. . I love you, and ( the big ?) K loves you. That is why I’m telling you this.”’ Well, what money there was in the Teacher’s Trust, that was money given to him to do with what he wanted. And, of course, he used to only give it to Brockwood or give it to this or give it to somebody else. ‘His voice was high (pitched ?) , and he cried when he said some of these things. I couldn’t control a rain in myself. A little later he saw Mary and Joe alone and apparently asked them to look after me. Pupul and Maheshji sat in the living room, she waiting to see Krishnaji. But after his bath, he wanted me to clean his hair with a hot washrag, dry it, massage in it the Biokosma lotion’—that’s his hair tonic He is caring for his hair as he always has, but he said, “I’m becoming a zombie, having to let people do all these things for me.”’ I remember how I washed his hair. He had a hospital bed, and so I could stand behind it, and I figured out that with a big black plastic bag I could have water and not wet anything. I forget just how I did it, but it worked.
‘Pupul had gone when all this was done. I am sitting by his bedside. It is around noon, and he sleeps. Earlier he spoke of walking such a short time ago in Madras. ‘I like to see air,’ he said. I asked or said that perhaps one of these days we might be able to drive to the beach in the car early in the morning. He said, “I have been watching the dawn, a new day beginning. It is good to watch the dawn.”
Later, lying on his side, looking out at the sunlight and wind in the trees, he said, “What a beautiful day.” The large eyes seemed all-seeing as always for a few minutes then folded, with the long dark lashes covering them.”’ He had extraordinary eyelashes, and I go on about it because I once asked him, “Krishnaji, don’t you need dark glasses?” And he said “No.” He said, “I can’t wear them because my eyelashes are too long.” And he always said they’re wasted on him. They should be on a woman.
‘At 3 p.m. Mary L. and Joe have just come to say goodbye.’ They fly back to London tonight. Then around 6 p.m., unexpectedly, Gary Deutsch came soon after Krishnaji had wanted to walk to the living room but had been too weak, so we took him on that wheelchair. He sat by the fire in the living room for about forty-five minutes. Gary found him weaker and ordered a full dose of Surex for sleep instead of a half-dose. When Mary and Joe said goodbye and went to the car and I went with them to wave them goodbye—when I came back, Krishnaji wanted to know what kind of a car it was.
February seventh. ‘Krishnaji slept with a full Surex pill and only three awakenings in the night. He watched the light on the hills. He said, “A fresh new morning. I looked for the old brain.”’
‘Then I said, “Did you find it?”’
‘He replied, “Only a little.”’
‘Me: “Did meditation come in the night?”’
‘He shook his head. “The sleep was too deep,” he said. Later he said, “You have been very sweet to me. You are the only person very close to me. You must be with me till the very last, till they put the body in the incinerator, with me till the end of my life.” His voice was weak. Asit, Dr. Krishna, Jane, and Dorothy are leaving today. They came to say goodbye. Krishnaji has begun to have pain. Morphine relieved it. He spoke on the cassette about the energy and intelligence that has gone through the body for seventy years.’ That was that day. ‘He was too weak to get up in the afternoon.’
The eighth. ‘Krishnaji at 4:30 a.m. told me I must walk, so I went around the block at 6:30 a.m. with Erna. Dr. Deutsch came to see Krishnaji, who talked to him at some length, “as a friend, not a doctor.” Higher alimentation with a pump machine was started. Krishnaji saw Sarjit Siddoo briefly, Pupul, and Radhika. Pupul is not leaving tomorrow but is moving to Grohe’s. Krishnaji woke up five times in the night.
February ninth. ‘Krishnaji saw briefly Mary Cadogan, then Pupul, Radhika, and Maheshji. Radhika later left to see her daughter, Sunanda. Gary Deutsch came around lunchtime. He gave Krishnaji a more permanent catheter, and Krishnaji then wanted to go in the living room, so we brought him in that little contraption, his wheelchair. We sat by the fire all afternoon till it was dark. Mary Links telephoned from London earlier and I spoke to my brother in New York.’
The tenth. ‘Krishnaji slept better with the catheter. He sent me on an early morning walk. Pupul, now staying at the Grohe’s, came with Maheshji. Krishnaji was in the living room on the sofa. She stayed briefly. Krishnaji was able to stand and to get in and out of the wheelchair. He spent the whole day in the living room. At 10 p.m. he had pain and morphine.’
The eleventh. ‘Krishnaji slept but restlessly. After a bath, I washed his hair in bed…then he wanted to go into the living room, where he stayed all day. Pupul and the Grohes came by briefly. Also Maheshji. Lailee telephoned. I rang Vanda. Dr. Deutsch came in the afternoon and stayed a long time and took blood samples. Krishnaji had only one morphine in the night at 7 p.m.’

February twelfth. ‘Last night Krishnaji had pain. At 7 p.m. he took morphine, which quieted it, and he slept the rest of the night. The nurse, Patrick Linville, said he was amazed at Krishnaji’s strength in being able to stand for moments. This morning Krishnaji was clear, maybe because of no Surex sleeping pill. He asked me to file his nails. He did his teeth and face. A new nurse came at 7 a.m. but appeared incompetent and gave Krishnaji a poor bath. He vomited some blood, which Parchure thinks indicates a hemorrhage. His fever went to 103, but Tylenol brought it down. Krishnaji was too weak to see Pupul when she came from Grohe’s with Maheshji. Later Krishnaji told me to tell her, “Don’t wait around, he has 'gone for a walk in the hills'. She, of course, interpreted it her way; but it was a rather poetic way of dismissing her, I thought.
‘Gary Deutsch came in the afternoon. He, Parchure, and I talked of what should be done. Krishnaji had said half an hour earlier to me, “I want to go. I want to die.” And when I could only say, “I know, I know,” he said, “You say you know, but you don’t 'do' anything.”
S: I know, because he said things like that to me, and I asked him if he wanted help to go more quickly, and he thought for a while and said, no, that that wasn’t right. ‘If he gets antibiotics now, it only prolongs his time a little until the next fall in the state of his body. I suggested Deutsch talk to Krishnaji, who was quite lucid, and ask him his wishes. Deutsch came back and said that Krishnaji had understood. He doesn’t want to go on as he is and said, “Do what you think is right.” So what seems right to all four of us was not to bring all extreme ways of medicine to prolong his life, with death inevitable, but to continue the IV feeding, relieve pain, fever, nausea; then the natural death that Krishnaji had spoken of earlier will come about on its own time. Krishnaji seemed satisfied when told this. I sat holding his hand a long time, and he had me press my hand on his stomach in the evening.’ He felt it relieved the pain somehow. ‘He asked what was going on in the world, “What is the gossip?” and we turned on the evening news with Dan Rather. Sharansky has been freed by the Soviets and was tumultuously welcomed in Israel. “The Soviets are cruel people,” said Krishnaji. Deutsch had said the results of the blood tests yesterday do not show much difference from when he was in the hospital. I told Pupul this on the telephone, as talk of a hemorrhage in the morning had alarmed her. She said she has decided to leave on Sunday. Asit and Radhika, who are returning here, will do the same. A good nurse, Bea Epping, was on in the evening. Krishnaji had morphine.’

The thirteenth. ‘There were two-and-a-half inches of rain in the night, and it began again in the afternoon. Krishnaji had a second morphine around 11 p.m. last night, but it failed to help with sleep, and the nurse gave him Surex at 1 a.m. I got up soon after 3:30 a.m., and when he was awake, I did his teeth cleaning. The male nurse, Patrick, Dr. Parchure, and I carried him in a hammock of sheets to the couch in front of the living room fire. Maheshji, Pupul, and the Grohes came briefly to see him. Krishnaji told Pupul he was sorry he didn’t see her yesterday. “He was off in the hills all day.” He looked all beauty lying there. He had me read to him from the Paul Theroux’s story.’ but then switched to the newspapers. He had a fit of shivering, then fever. Tylenol broke the fever, and then there was sweat. We carried him back to bed. Parchure massaged him, and he fell asleep. In the living room he had suddenly said, “Do you remember the place in Holland? The ducks. How each day there were fewer of the baby ducks.”’ That was when we were first in Holland and we used to walk in a kind of a park that was privately owned and had streams running through it. We used to go for the afternoon walks there, and there was a mother duck with little ducklings behind her. That’s what he was remembering. ‘He was thinking of the place where we used to walk near the thatched farmhouse in 1967. A very happy time. Later he said, “I am very fortunate.” Yesterday he asked me obliquely—the nurse was present—“I suppose you haven’t heard from 'that person'.” Meaning Rajagopal. We never heard one word from those (mean ?) people.

February fourteenth: ‘Krishnaji slept without pill or morphine till 2 a.m., but at 4 a.m. the pain returned. A new nurse, Peggy Levine, gave him morphine. In the ten minutes it took to work, he had me press on his stomach. “Too good to be true. Sorrow, I thought I’d lost you.” The 'high pitched' voice (the small K ?) groaned with pain and the low voice (of geat K) came in, “Don’t make such a fuss about it.” At 4:20 a.m., he said the pain was gone and I must go to sleep another two hours.’ At one point, when he had me press on his stomach but it didn’t work for the pain. ‘We took him again in a hammock of sheets to the living room, where the fire burned beautifully and outside the heavy rain fell. We were having a big, big storm, and I was afraid we would lose electricity, so I have rented generators and rigged them so that if there was a power failure he would still have light and warmth in his room, and the infusion pump to his vein will carry on. We had carried him back to bed when Gary Deutsch came in to see how he was and to bring him a bunch of Clint Eastwood films he had taped. He ordered light morphine, one milligram, to be given routinely while Krishnaji is in pain because Krishnaji admitted to me this morning that the pain doesn’t come all at once but 'builds up' before he lets us know it is there. If this amount is insufficient and pain occurs, more can be given. He also changed the sleeping prescription from Surex to Restoril. This Krishnaji took at 8 p.m.’ ‘I got the nurses in and out of Ojai.’ I called the police, as they were stopping people driving in or out because of mudslides, and I called the police and said that there is someone who is seriously ill, and we need the nurses to get through. Will you let them get through? And they did. ‘Deutsch came and talked alone with Krishnaji about his illness.’
The fifteenth. ‘Krishnaji slept through the stormy night. When the 11 o’clock nursing shift change approached, the highway control had made the roads impossible. I talked to a woman there who was more resourceful, checked with the men in the field, and worked out a route. The nurse got here by 11:30, and Patrick Linville, the male nurse on duty, was able to get out. Today the rain has lessened. The roads are clear, and there have been no bad mudslides. Pupul and Asit came in the morning while Gary Deutsch was here. Deutsch came with slides of Yosemite for Krishnaji to look at. For a while he did but fell asleep, and Deutsch left, not before talking to Pupul, Asit, Erna, and Theo. Pupul leaves tomorrow morning. She saw Krishnaji in the afternoon, and so did Radhika, who had arrived this morning from Philadelphia. She, too, leaves tomorrow for India. Asit asked me if it was all right for him to stay for as long as Krishnaji lives. He will stay at Grohe’s. He said he felt he could no more leave then if his father were dying. I said of course; he should stay if he wished and is welcome to come to the house whenever he likes. Also he can use the gray car. All this goes on, and I keep moving, but there are times when I want to cry until my eyes are washed away and my heart dissolved. Krishnaji asked me to wash his hair; clean it with a hot towel—a hot washrag, brush it, and in the evening massage almond oil into his scalp. This evening I stood doing this, behind the top of the bed holding in my hands this warm and beautiful head that holds the brain that is the 'light of this world'. It is there, alive, marvelous, beyond any knowing. The source of his teaching is an endless giving. My hands, when he said the massage was enough, held the scent of his aliveness, a perfume. Have I said in these scribblings that for a while, the last time Deutsch was here, that they were talking alone and when we came in, Krishnaji was telling him about knowledge, intelligence, compassion, and what love is. His voice was rather high, and he paused with the effort. But he kept on. It was his last teaching.’ . And as Dr. Deutsch had said, he felt he was Krishnaji’s last pupil.
‘Krishnaji didn’t want to go to the living room. He remained in bed and watched part of an Eastwood movie brought by Gary Deutsch but was tired and stopped it and slept by 8.’
February sixteenth: ‘Krishnaji woke at 3 a.m. with pain in the abdomen. Morphine was changed to a drip. In spite of the morphine, Krishnaji was clear. Pupul came to say goodbye before lunch and left after for a flight to London. Radhika had left earlier in the morning. Deutsch thought there was a hemorrhage in the liver that was causing the pain. Restoril for sleep was taken at 7 p.m. The pain lessened, and Krishnaji slept, but it became a coma. Deutsch came at 11 p.m. and Krishnaji was breathing only three times a minute.

The seventeenth: Krishnaji’s heart stopped beating at ten minutes past midnight. He lay on his own bed which was in his sitting room till 8 a.m. when I rode beside him to the crematorium in Ventura.’

That's all she wrote

I will continue posting small excerpts from the spiritual literature of the early twentieth century. The following belongs to a long forgotten writer named Robert Lees:

" The word of God is spirit as well as truth and must ever be interpreted by the spirit, not by the letter, that being merely the form in which the spirit finds expression. The fire of the spirit is love. Therefore to say that God is a 'consuming fire' is but another way of declaring that God is love. Now love in its debased form becomes passion, and if unrestrained will speedily burst all bonds and leave a man the prey to his own devouring lust with all the evil in his nature contributing fuel to the flames.

This post was last updated by John Raica Wed, 04 Sep 2019.

A very rare K intimate interview

( as recorded by Mrs Pupul Jayakar & her sister Nandini Mehta in 1980)

Q: I'd like to question your (rather paradoxical ) position that ''there are no footholds to truth'. Most other systems of meditation insist on the need for some (individual) support, at least in the early stages. But you have repeatedly said that there are no (intermediary) steps, no levels : ''The first step is the last step''. However, going into your own past, as well as in casual conversations, I have observed that you have gone through all the kriyas, the (purifying?) actions known to religious tradition. You have tested yourself, you have denied your senses; tied a bandage for days on your eyes to see what it is to be blind. You have fasted for days, you observed total silence for over a year in 1951. What was your reason for this silence?

K: Probably it was to find out if I could keep quiet.

Q: Did it help at all?

K: Not a bit.

Q: Then, why did you do it?

K: I have done ( lots of ?) crazy things — eaten so that I did not mix protein with starch; eaten only vegetables; then only protein...

Q: Do you put silence in the same category?

K: You mean I did not talk to anybody—are you sure? It was never anything serious. There was no spiritual intention behind the silence.

Q: In the (mystical) experiences that took place in Ooty (in 1947) , you still saw visions. Do you ever see visions now?

K: As far as I can remember, Master K. H. and the Buddha were always there somewhere in my mind. Their 'images' used to follow me for a considerable time.

Q: You have talked about a 'face' being with you, which merged into your face.

K: That is right.

Q: Today, is that face still with you?

K: Yes, occasionally, but why are you asking all these questions?

Q: Because I want to write an accurate account about your (spiritual) life.

K: Right from the beginning, C. W. L. and Amma had said that (K's) 'face' has been created for many, many lives. I was too young to know what they were saying, but apparently the face impressed them tremendously. They said it was the face of the Maitreya Bodhisattva. Many, many years later one morning I suddenly saw that face, a most extraordinarily beautiful face, that used to be with me for many years. Then gradually that face disappeared. It all began after the death of the brother.

Q: Can we pursue the question of your 'visions' ?

K: For many, many years I was not really 'all there'. Sometimes, even now, I am not all there. After I moved away from Ojai—after 1947 to 1948, (strange) things started happening, like seeing this extraordinary face. I used to see it every day—in sleep, while walking. It was not a 'vision'. It was an actual fact.

Q: You saw it even when you were awake?

K: Of course, on my ( solitary) walks it was there.

Q: We saw in Ooty a tremendous change taking place in your face...

K: That is true.

Q: And you said ''the Buddha was there''. Do you still see such visions ?

K: The other night in Madras I woke up with ( the presence of) this face.

Q: So it is still there ?

K: Of course.

Q: What is the 'feeling' of it ?

K: It is not a (self-projected ) vision. It is not something imagined. I have tested it out. It is not something that I wanted (to experiment?) . I do not say, ‘What a beautiful face’—there is no wish to have it.

Q: But what happens to you when you get these 'visions'?

K: I look at the face.

Q: Does anything happen to you (inwardly) ?

K: It is like 'cleaning' the body and the face and the air. I have seen the face in the dark, in the light, while walking.

Q: Before the mystical process that happened in Ojai (in 1927) , in your letters to Lady Emily, you wrote that you were meditating every day?

K: All that 'meditation' was on Theosophical Society lines. I did it because I was told to do it. It was part of the Theosophical Society belief, but it meant nothing to me. I did all that automatically.

Q: When you ‘came to (the realisation of Truth), was it in a flash or was it something which matured without your knowing?

K: In a flash (of total Insight?) , naturally.

Q: When one reads the Notebook (written in 1961) and then reads the talks of 1948, one finds there has been a major leap in the teachings. Is there such a leap taking place all the time?

K: Yes, it is happening all the time, in my brain, inside me. That first night in Madras, I felt the brain exploding; there was an extraordinary quality, light, beauty. This is happening all the time, but not ( necessarily) every day. What is necessary is ( brain's total ?) quietness...

Q: I realize that ( strange) things happen when you are alone. It happened when you were supposed to be very ‘ill’ in 1959, in Srinagar and later in Bombay. I have never been certain whether you have an illness or something else. At the end of any serious illness, you give extraordinary talks.

K: The illness may be a purgation...

Q: I remember your being ill in Bombay ; you had bronchitis. We had to cancel the talks. You had 103-degree to 104-degree temperature. Suddenly you wanted to throw up. So I ran to get a basin. I held your hand. I saw you were about to faint. I called out and you said, ‘No, no.’ Your voice had changed. Your face had changed. The person who sat up was different from the person who had fainted. You were cured. You told me not to leave the body alone; just to be there. You said, ‘Never be anxious near me; never get worried, don’t allow too many people to come near me. In India they never leave an ill person alone.’ You asked me to sit down quietly and then you said, ‘I must tell you something. Do you know how to help a person die? If you know that someone is about to die, help him to be quiet, help him to forget his (psychological) accumulations, to be free of his worries, of his problems, to give up his attachments, all his possessions.’ You were silent and then you said, ‘It is just like 'stepping over’.... ‘If you can’t do that, you ( your spirit?) remain where you are.’