Swanwick Star Issue No. 3 (2010)

Listening is the Guru

December 13, 1970 New Delhi, India

 At dawn, I drove down to Delhi with my driver to have lunch with Krishnaji at Kitty Shiva Rao’s. When we left the hospital at Aur, the morning star hung like jewel in the eastern sky. The darkness faded as the light of dawn awakened the land. There was very little traffic as we sped along a canal lined with eucalyptus trees. Soon, the bare foothills of the Himalayas appeared. In the distance one could make out the snow-covered peaks. After this the route lay along the plains of the Punjab. It took us about eight hours to reach Delhi.

Shiva Rao was looking ill and Kitty had aged with worry. Krishnaji emerged from his room at 1:15 pm.

Kitty (KSR): You have met before (looking at me).

K: Yes, yes, of course.

K was looking extremely well. He wore a long grey tunic of wool that came almost to his feet. There was no one else there as the four of us sat down for lunch – Krishnaji, Kitty, Shiva Rao, and myself. Shiva Rao sat opposite to K and I sat opposite to Kitty. Krishnaji’s face looked astonishingly fresh and young. His forehead was unlined, there were two deep creases in each cheek, which gave his face even more beauty. His eyes were silent and aloof but his face was alive with questions. He carried on most of the conversation with me for over an hour.

K: What do you consider the condition of this country?

JS: Very black.

K: What do you mean by black?

JS: The corruption, the bribery, the inefficiency…

K: Yes, of course…What is the average holding of a farmer?

JS: I can’t say definitely but about ten acres.

K (Looking at Shiva Rao): Do you know sir, in France the farmer takes his month’s supply of wheat to the baker, and the baker supplies the farmer with fresh loaves of bread daily? The farmer knows exactly how many loaves he needs per day and how much wheat to give to the baker.

SR: How is the baker paid?

K: He isn’t paid; he takes part of the wheat. And if the bread isn’t good, the baker hears about it. The French eat enormous quantities of bread.

SR: Sir, in Israel, four farmers owning ten acres each, do collective farming. But in this country, the people aren’t so highly educated to do this.

K: There is a square in Paris (looking at Shiva Rao), is it the Trocadero? Anyway, it is forbidden to roller skate on it but the boys all roller skate there and the policemen walking around don’t say a thing to them. They do it for the fun of breaking the law. (K was smiling)…Are the farmers dirty?

JS: Yes, very dirty, but of course the gentlemen farmers are very clean.

K: The Indians are hated in England. I heard Enoch Powell’s speech and a lot of what he said was true. Of course he’s just a windbag. The Pakistanis are hated more than the Indians.

KSR: Why? Because they are more aggressive?

K: Because wherever they are their food smells, and the people don’t like it. Why do the people go where they are not wanted?

JS: I think almost all Indians would be willing to leave India. Going to England is considered to be a great prestige.

 

– An excerpt from Listening is the Guru by Dr. Jagdis K. Siddoo
(a diary of private conversations with J. Krishnamurti)