Mon, 17 Jun 2019 | #181 |
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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.’
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.
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.
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 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 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.’
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.’
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.’
‘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 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 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.
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 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-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
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 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 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.’
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.’
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Mon, 17 Jun 2019 | #182 |
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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.’
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 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.’
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
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?’
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.
The nineteenth. ‘I did desk work. There was a long discussion at lunch about the purposes of the schools. We walked.’
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.’
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 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 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.’
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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.
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 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-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?”
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.’
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.’
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.
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.’
The next day, ‘ Krishnaji had a cable from Rajagopal sending love, etcetera, and greetings to me.’
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.
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.
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.
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 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.’
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 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 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.’
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.
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.
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.
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.’
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.’
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.’
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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 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.’
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.’
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.’
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.’
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.’
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.
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.”’
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-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.”’
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.
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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.’
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.
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.’
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.’
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-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 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.”’
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.’
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
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.’
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 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 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 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-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.’
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'...) 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.
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.’
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.’
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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 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 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.
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.’
‘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.
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.
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 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 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.’
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.’
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.’
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.’
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.’
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 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, ‘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.
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.’
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.
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.”
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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.’
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.’
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.’
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.’
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 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 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.’
‘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.’
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-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.’
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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.’
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 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.’
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 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.
March first. ‘I marketed. It rained. Krishnaji is better and we ate lunch in the dining room. It cleared in the afternoon. ’
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.’
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 ?) .
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.’
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.’
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.’
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 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.
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.
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 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.’
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.’
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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.’
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.’
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.’
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, ‘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.’
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.’
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.’
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(...) 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 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.
‘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.”’
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.’
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?”’
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.’
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-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 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.’
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.’
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.’
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.’
September first. At 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji answered three of the questions in the meeting. We lunched in our kitchen.
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.
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.’
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.”’
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 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 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.’
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.’
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.’
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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 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.
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 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 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.’
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 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.’
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.’
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 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.’
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-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 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.’
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.’
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.’
May eighth, ‘There was drizzle, but still, at 11:30 a.m., Krishnaji gave his third Ojai talk.
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 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.’
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.’
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.
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 seventeenth, ‘Krishnaji spoke with the students, and the next day talked to staff.’
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 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?
This post was last updated by John Raica Fri, 21 Jun 2019. |
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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.’
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.”
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.’
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
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.
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.
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.’
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.’
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.
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.’
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 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 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 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.’
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-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.’ |
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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.’
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.’
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 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.’
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.
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.’
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.’
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.’
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.
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 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.’
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.’
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.
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.
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.’
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.’
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.
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-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.’
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 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.
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.’
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.’
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.’
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 |
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(...) 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 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.’
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.’
‘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.
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.’
The twenty-sixth of July. Krishnaji held the third question-and-answer meeting, thereby ending this summer’s series. He covered six questions.
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.’
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.
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(...) 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.’
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 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.’
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 next day. ‘I sorted questions for tomorrow. Krishnaji saw Felix Greene in afternoon.’
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 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 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 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-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 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.’
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 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.’
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.’
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.’
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.’
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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 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 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.’
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.’
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…
On the second of April: ‘After breakfast, Krishnaji, Asit, and I discussed on tape Asit’s question, “What is a worthwhile life?”’
‘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.’
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 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 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.’
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.
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.’
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.’
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.’
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.’
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.’
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 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.’
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.
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 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.’
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.’
‘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.
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.
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.’
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.’
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.
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.
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 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 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.’
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.’
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.
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 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.
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(...) 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.’
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. ’
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 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 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
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.’
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 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.’
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.
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 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.”
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.’
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.’
This post was last updated by John Raica Sun, 23 Jun 2019. |
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Sun, 23 Jun 2019 | #197 |
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(...) 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 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.
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Mon, 24 Jun 2019 | #198 |
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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 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 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.
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!’
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.’
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.’
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.’
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 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-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.
May sixth.. At 11:30 a.m. Krishnaji was interviewed for the Los Angeles Times by Allen Parachini.’
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.’
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.’
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 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.’
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.’
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 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 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.
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Mon, 24 Jun 2019 | #199 |
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(...) 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.’
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.’
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…
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 twenty-third. ‘Krishnaji spent the day in bed. People are arriving for the Brockwood talks.
‘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.’
Me: “Is one to live thinking that at any moment you might leave?”’
‘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.”
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.
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.’
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.’
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.’
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.’
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.”’
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Mon, 24 Jun 2019 | #200 |
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(...) 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.’
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.’
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.
December third. ‘The first audiotaped letter one from Krishnaji arrived.’ This is where he dictated it November three through ten. It was wonderful.’
The thirteenth. ‘Rajagopal rang Erna and said he would like to talk to her and me.’
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.’
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. |
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Tue, 25 Jun 2019 | #201 |
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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 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.’
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.
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.’
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.”’
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.
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.
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 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 |
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Sun, 18 Aug 2019 | #202 |
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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. |
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Wed, 04 Sep 2019 | #203 |
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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.’ |
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