Issue #15

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Issue 15 – June 1970 to August 1970

Introduction

This issue is the first time we see the effects of what Mary called “the big books”—the large page diaries she periodically kept which allowed her to write as much as she wanted about any day. We have more direct quotes from Krishnaji, and more details of her daily observations of Krishnaji.

Consequently, although there are the customary twenty-some pages of material in this issue, it only covers just over two months.

Mary provides an interesting description of the infectious nature of Krishnaji’s enjoyment of things, which was such a large part of the time Krishnaji and Mary spent together.

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The Memoirs of Mary Zimbalist: Issue 15

Mary: So, from the twentieth of June, which is where we left off, until the twenty-fourth, there is nothing much to report. And even on the twenty-fourth, there’s nothing about Krishnaji (except, of course, he was giving interviews), but I flew on that day to Paris to see my father. His wife, my stepmother, was very unwell and in the hospital. Bud had flown there from New York. I returned to Brockwood on the twenty-fifth.

The first notable thing we did was on the twenty-seventh, when ‘we drove over to Blackdown and had tea with Mary and Joe. We took a walk and had a lovely time. “Let’s enjoy ourselves,” said Krishnaji.’ [Both chuckle.] ‘And we did. We had fun.’ He was so quick to enjoy things, when things were nice and enjoyable, he entered into it with such relish…not relish, it’s the wrong word, that sounds…

Scott: …with such ease and such speed.

M: Yes, and such a kind of childlike—I keep using this word childlike for a man who was so far from childhood—and yet he still had that lovely quality of openness and entering so easily and quickly into anything nice that happened.

S: Yes. That’s true.

M: It made one want him to be pleased…

S: Yes.

M: …because seeing him enjoy something was really such a selfish pleasure for me.

S: Mm, hm.

M: A delight.

S: I completely understand that. Yes.

M: One had that joy also because of his reactions.

S: Exactly: We could enter into it, too, because of him.

M: Yes.

S: Whereas otherwise, I…what is it? We become so blasé, or so jaded, or…

M: Exactly.

S: …so complicated and…

M: Yes.

S: …all those things that Krishnaji wasn’t and I guess we wish we weren’t.

M: He sort of swept one along into his joy without meaning to.

S: Mm, hm.

M: So, one shared that kind of wonder and enjoyment.

S: Yes, yes.

M: Yes.

So, on June thirtieth, ‘we left Brockwood and drove to Hastings, and then to Lydd, where we flew the car across to Le Touquet in France, as we had before. Krishnaji drove about halfway there.’

S: To Hastings?

M: To Lydd, yes. ‘We went on a little further to Montreuil,’ where we had stayed a number of times, ‘and stopped at the Château de Montreuil,’ which was a very nice hotel, a château made into a small hotel. It’s right on the sea with battlements in front of it.

S: How nice.

M: ‘We walked along the battlements before supper with the sea wind blowing in. It was lovely. We had a pleasant supper in the dining room,’ and that was it. ‘We’d driven 141 miles,’ it says here. [Both chuckle.]

‘We left the next morning,’ the first of July, ‘and went via Arras to the autoroute and reached Paris at about 1 p.m. We lunched at the Tour d’Argent with my father.’

S: Oh, so Krishnaji lunched with your father there also?

M: Yes.

S: What did your father think of Krishnaji?

M: I don’t know. Father didn’t ever say, but he appreciated Krishnaji’s presence, his grace, his beautiful taste in clothes, his manners, and all that. Beyond that, he didn’t know what it was about.

S: Of course.

M: But, he liked him. My father wasn’t a very expressive man. If he didn’t like someone, he clammed up, but he was impressed [with Krishnaji], obviously not knowing how much there was to be impressed about. But he took it for granted that he was someone very distinguished, very remarkable.

S: Hm.

M: So, ‘we left Paris, and went to the hotel Bas Bréau in Barbizon,’ where we’d stayed before. ‘We had the same rooms as before, which was very nice.’ It was a little upstairs in another building. It was very quiet. ‘We went for a walk in the forest and had dinner up in the rooms.’ You could have meals brought, which was nice.

The next day, ‘we left Barbizon and drove to Sens, where we took the little tiny yellow roads on the maps,’ those small country roads…

S: Yes.

M: ‘…and wound our way. We went to Troyes, and beyond Troyes we lunched at the Hostellerie Pont in Pont Sainte-Marie. We went on towards Chaumont and finally came to Prangey, where we had rooms in the Château de Prangey,’ which wasn’t so good. ‘The food wasn’t too good’; we didn’t like that too much. I got all these things out of the Michelin.

S: Of course.

M: But that was one of the few ones that didn’t turn out well. ‘We went on’ the next morning, the third, ‘through Dijon, Dole, Poligny, and Champagnole, where we lunch nicely at the Grand Hotel Ripotot.’ Have you ever been there?

S: No. [M giggles.] Champagnole, yes, but not the Grand Hotel Ripotot.

M: Yes. ‘And then on via Saint-Cergues,’ you know, you go over the pass.

S: Right.

M: ‘Down to Nyon and to Geneva, and to good old Hotel du Rhône.’

S: Yes! [Chuckling.]

M: ‘We’re both pleased to be in Switzerland and in Geneva’ and naturally, the minute we were into the hotel, we left our things, and we went to, guess where?

S: [laughing] Patek Philippe.

M: Patek Philippe!

S: Of course.

M: ‘We left my wristwatch and both K’s montre de poche to be cleaned,’ and then went where?

S: To Jacquet.

M: Yes, of course! [Both laugh.] You know your lines! ‘And we chose fine neckties to be made, and we spoke to Vanda, who was already in Gstaad.’

The next day, the fourth, ‘Krishnaji stayed in bed all morning, and I went out on errands. In the afternoon, Narasimhan…’ you know who I mean by Narasimhan?

S: Yes, you mentioned him before.

M: He usually was in New York at the UN. He’s also a cousin of Mrs. Jayalakshmi’s, comes from Madras, same family. ‘We visited with him for a while, and then drove to Gstaad.’

S: Which way did you go?

M: Let me see if it says…it doesn’t say. But I’m sure we went along the lake; I think we went up via Bulle. In those days we always went that way. And arrived at Chalet Tannegg. ‘Vanda was there, also Fosca, and a maid called Olga.’ So we were well looked after.

The next few days were quiet: ‘Krishnaji stayed in bed most of the time. Sacha de Manziarly came to lunch, and for that Krishnaji came to the table’ because he was fond of Sacha. Sacha told him stories and made him laugh and that was very nice.

‘Unfortunately, Krishnaji was having hay fever trouble. They were tossing the hay in the fields, and that got to him, as it always did.’

On the tenth, ‘Vanda left for Florence. Krishnaji and I drove my Mercedes to Thun and had just a lovely drive. We picnicked at the edge of the lake, which was fun.’ Swans used to come in and beg for food. And it was fun to see them with their baleful eyes, but lovely, long, graceful necks.

S: Mm, hm.

M: ‘Then we went back to the garage, by which time Krishnaji’s Mercedes was ready, and we drove back to Gstaad.’

On the thirteenth, ‘Krishnaji was feeling quite a bit better, and he got up for lunch with Marcelle de Manziarly. We went for a walk along the Turbach River in the afternoon. Vanda telephoned from Florence about Krishnaji’s speaking in Italy in October; some talks in Perugia and some in Firenze.’ He was asked to speak there and she arranged it. ‘Krishnaji spoke after lunch to Herri and Hilda Moorhead [1], and he talked about India a lot with them, and who can carry on the teachings in the school and see that they’re followed and taught. Also, and if money becomes available from KWINC for the Indian schools, who is to see to that and see that it’s used for the teachings and not used for buying tractors, etcetera?’ [Laughs.] ‘He also asked, “Who has the teachings at heart?” They had no answer. “All the old Foundation for New Education, that is the present KF India, is mostly old followers who don’t want any interference, even by me. They care about the status of it and little else.” The Moorheads pointed out something about the Krishnamurti Centre in Madras, and The Bulletin, and Krishnaji got quite upset. He wanted to revise the text of his statement, but I pointed out that the omission in the statement was because of his talking of all three foundations and not all the allied committees.’ I don’t know quite what that’s about. I don’t remember it.

‘We went for a walk up the hill toward Turbach where the river has again tried to wash out the road, and the burly Swiss workmen were slowly and skillfully repairing it.’

‘In the evening, Krishnaji suddenly said to me, “Make a note of it. I’ve been talking in India, spending more time there than anywhere else, and there is not one person who listens and has changed. It is terribly difficult for people to change. They are what they are. When I die, it will be over. I thought Naudé might have done something, but he wasn’t ready. What will happen to you? People aren’t serious. Are you serious? I’ve been talking over forty years, and I’d be a damned fool if I didn’t realize people are as they are. I’m not depressed by it, I’ll go on talking.” It was a kind of…I don’t like the word frustration about Krishnaji, but he felt that people were all busy there, but it wasn’t…the teachings were somehow, I don’t know what, taken for granted, as it were. 

S: Mm, hm.

M: So, the next day, the fourteenth, ‘Krishnaji wanted to go for a drive and we took the Mercedes, stopping at the Biascoecheas. We went past the tent and on to Château d’Oex and Les Moulins. Krishnaji said he was nervous in the car. I don’t know why. We came back and had lunch at Tannegg alone. I spoke to the doctor in London about his health and also to Mr. Moser about the cost of another 280 Mercedes next year, if we could put the present one in trade. Krishnaji gave interviews…’ if you want to hear about all that.

S: Yes. Mary, just read it. It’s so powerful to read what you wrote at that time.

M: Really?

S: Yes, really.

M: Huh? But, it’s full of stuff…

S: No, that doesn’t matter, Mary.

M: Alright. ‘Krishnaji gave interviews to Mrs. Semmel. Her husband, Doctor Semmel, died a few weeks ago. We went for a walk toward Turbach. Krishnaji asked what will happen to me when he dies. He said that it depends on what I do and am now, i.e., the changes in me. He asked me if I felt any presence of Sam after he died. I said yes. We discussed what is evidence and what is imagination. I said I felt it strongly but neither saw objectively nor heard anything. It was a strong sense of presence and communication, real to me, but I cannot offer it as objective evidence to another. Krishnaji said to me, “You can tell the difference between imagination and a something.” He wished he could remember how it was when his brother died. I asked how one can assess such things. I don’t assert anything because I cannot see how it can be proven. But I pay attention and do not deny any part of it. I spoke of the conversation with Vanda last week: her saying that neither she nor I have theosophical conditioning and therefore her experience of being spoken to when Krishnaji was unconscious and the words spoken to me when Krishnaji was sick on June seventeenth…”—that was when he said he shouldn’t have gone to town, who was looking after him—“…were not out of our projection.”’ That’s what Vanda felt.

Krishnaji then spoke of change and listening, i.e., ‘“if you really listen and see, that erases the habit, the previous imprint. The new then functions in the mind and whenever an action of the old pattern arises the mind alerts the consciousness, the conscious attention.” He spoke of my bad habit of frowning, and the need for “a quiet face”’—he always used to say to me, “Have a quiet face”—‘remains because I haven’t seen the importance of changing them. If I had, the old pattern would be erased, he said. He said, “The body sometimes takes time to relearn, but the mind can be instantly alert, therefore, to listen, to see, to change, to wipe out the old pattern. Lack of change is inattention,” he said. “What is listening? Make a note. I will talk about that.”’

On July fifteenth, ‘The weather is suddenly cold and rainy. It was a quiet day, and I did desk work. We ate lunch alone. In the afternoon, I did errands, went to the tent and to the camping site to greet the Simmonses. After a walk alone, I talked to Vanda in Firenze about Krishnaji’s Italian schedule.’

On the next day, ‘it was snowing early. I drove Krishnaji to the tent for his first talk of the year. There were many people, and it was a good talk. The Simmonses came to lunch. We walked in the afternoon. I felt a little light-headed. Donald Hoppen had arrived from Brockwood and he spent the night here, and will look for a place of his own.’

On the seventeenth, ‘Krishnaji spent the whole day in bed resting and reading. I had a good day’s work at the desk. It is still cold with thick clouds. I went down to do errands in the afternoon, and ran into Fabienne van der Straten and Donald, who came with me for a walk.’

The next day, ‘I took Donald to a chalet where he has taken a room up the mountain above Saanen and near Chalet Helios, where Brockwood people are staying. I visited there. Krishnaji and I went to the Biascoechea’s for lunch. Krishnaji asked Enrique to tell me about the dreams he had before Krishnaji was found as a boy. In Enrique’s dream, Mrs. Besant appeared with a young Indian and said, “This is the world teacher-to-be.” The dream was so strong that Enrique, who was speaking at a Theosophical meeting, announced that a boy had been found before he knew it officially.’

S: Hm!

M: [Chuckles] ‘“What was he like when you saw him?” Krishnaji kept asking. But Enrique was only able to discuss what he himself felt and not what the boy was like, except that he was very warm and friendly. “Write it down, sir,” said Krishnaji. I asked later, would it be interesting for Mary’s biography? At 4:15 p.m., Krishnaji saw Gisela Elmenhorst’s sister’s son, Andreas, who is retarded due to an injury in childhood. Krishnaji came out and asked Gisela, who was talking to me, “What do you want to do? Are you asking me to try to heal him?”

“We ask nothing”, she said, “only perhaps my sister would like any advice you would be willing to give her.”

Krishnaji explained about healing which sometimes works and sometimes doesn’t. He looked from one of us to the other, and we were silent. And then he said he would do it. The boy must come each day for a week. Gisela was almost in tears. He went back, and saw the boy.’

On the nineteenth, ‘it was another beautiful day and it was Krishnaji’s second talk in the tent. Herr Graf had water trickling down the exterior of the tent to cool it, but the tape recorder picked up the sound of it, so the water had to be turned off. Krishnaji spoke on freedom, authority, compassion, and the basis of fear. In response to a question, “Is it possible to learn all the time?” he said, “You block yourself in such a question. If you are watching, there is nothing to learn.”

People swarmed around him afterwards. One of the hippies, bearded, barefoot, in jeans and a skivvy top, was wearing a pistol and walked out before the end.’ I remember that.

‘Krishnaji wanted to drive before going back to Tannegg and we went toward Lauenen. The snow on the mountains at the end of the valley was marvelous. At Tannegg, he saw the boy, Andreas, and then a Doctor Sinai, a German woman in a white sari, sent by Vanda, as she was in charge of the conference in Florence, at the end of which Krishnaji will give a talk on October twenty-ninth. We stressed that he is not to be part of the conference, which is on science and meditation and has Western doctors, etc. Also Gopi Krishna and Swami Chidananda,’ and somebody else. ‘Vanda is hiring a hall for Krishnaji separately. We lunched quietly alone, and I, too, took a nap afterward. Krishnaji will not go to Geneva Tuesday if Narasimhan calls with Mercedes news!’ [Chuckling.] ‘It is too much for him.’ Narasimhan was looking into the possibilities of getting another Mercedes, what the facts were about it.

S: Mm, hm.

M: ‘But he doesn’t want me to go alone. He suggested Dorothy going with me, and we went to ask her in the camping[2]. She was out, so we went for a walk along the river by the airfield. Krishnaji said he didn’t want to walk far as he was tired, but he kept saying, “Further,” and we walked to the end and back, which was too far. My leg was protesting; he looked tired. We saw Dorothy on the way back. Krishnaji seemed full of energy in spite of being tired.’ Do you want me to go on?

S: Oh, this is wonderful! 

M: Alright, so, the twentieth, let’s see. ‘A rainy day. Joan Wright fitted two dressing gowns for Krishnaji. I went on errands while Krishnaji saw the boy, Andreas. Frances McCann came for lunch. She says that Krishnaji’s audiences are no longer welcome in Gstaad. Krishnaji attracts hippies.’[3] [Chuckles.]

‘Krishnaji and I went for a walk in the rain down behind Gstaad. He had me make mental notes that “Creation is never conflict,” and later that “You all don’t make use of me enough.” I asked if he meant we didn’t ask the right questions. He said, “Partly. It’s all so vast. You are not serious enough.”’

‘Narasimhan rang from Geneva with Mercedes lore. It is unnecessary that I go there tomorrow. He will send all the information and suggested I ship my car to New York, where he will sell it, then order through him, getting 10 percent off on the diplomatic discount! [Chuckles.] Krishnaji was very pleased.’ We didn’t do that, but that was the suggestion. [Both chuckle.]

On the twenty-first, ‘Krishnaji gave his third talk in the tent. A very good one on inner real revolution, the dangers of analysis, time, and postponement. The Lilliefelts were there, having arrived early by car from Spiez, Frankfurt, and California. They came up for lunch and we asked Seňor Fresia too. After the latter left, Krishnaji, the Lilliefelts, and I caught up on all the news. A letter came from James Vigeveno in the usual vein i.e., “it is a personal matter between Krishnaji and Rajagopal,” the usual threats, etc. Krishnaji refused to touch it. He made me open it. When I began to read it to him, he stopped me and made me jump to just tell him the gist.’ He didn’t like to touch or be too close to these things that he found soiled and dirty and somehow evil.

S: Mm, hm.

M: ‘I read most of it to him over his expostulations as he should know. Each of these letters has seemed something unclean to him. He would not touch or look at them. He gave it to the Lilliefelts to read. A meeting of lawyers is now set for the sixth of August. The summary of a settlement offer is due here any day. Harper & Row are eager to do the books. Urgency of Change is coming out in time for Christmas, so they want the talks from 1969 on and are trying to buy up ones Servire[4] have. Mr. Cutler’—that must have been the man at Harper—‘is very enthusiastic. The Lilliefelts are staying at The Rössli.’ That’s a hotel. ‘Krishnaji invited them to stay downstairs when Vanda is not here. They will think it over.’

‘Krishnaji had walked down the hill before lunch, so we went for a drive in his car toward Les Mosses. I talked of the hippies to Graf, who says the locals wouldn’t rent a barn to Krishnamurti people because the hippies come and behave amorously near the tent [S laughs], next to the children’s encampment!’ [Both laugh.] I don’t quite know how far that went, but that’s what it says. ‘Krishnaji sent Graf to see Mr. Mueller to find out if the community is really becoming hostile. Krishnaji decided to hold discussions with the young people in the tent. Older people could sit silently in the back if they want.’

‘He spoke of a quiet mind.’ I’m having trouble with my eyes.

S: Let me turn on this light, too.

M: Yes, that’s better. ‘I discussed the endless serving up of thoughts and images that is all trivia. If one widens the scope, like looking from one’s finger to the wide valley, it is still an act of the conscious mind and will, and not very different.’ I don’t know what that means. ‘Then, attention to inattention can become a succession of images. As I spoke I find myself saying that a different sense comes about when there is great physical quiet in that there is almost a detachment from the body, a different quality of mind. Krishnaji said, “Try to act from emptiness. Find out what it is and do that. It is the way one should live.”’

S: Hm.

M: Throughout his life the emptiness has been the most dominant quality.

S: I know.

M: Both for him, naturally, and to try to convey that to us.

S: Yes.

M: On the twenty-second of July, there was ‘a meeting at Chalet Choucas of all the committees. The Lilliefelts were there and later came to lunch. Suzanne and Hughes came too. After his nap, Krishnaji walked down the hill, did some small errands in the village, and picked up his car, which was washed. Later Krishnaji said, “You must be transformed in every way inside and out.’”

‘The fourth talk,’ on the twenty-third, ‘was a very good one. He spoke about the only change being the inner one. Solutions to fragmentary problems only create new difficulties. Biascoecheas, Sendra, and a lawyer from Puerto Rico named Farias.’ Oh, he was an awful man! He was a Puerto Rican lawyer, but a rough man, not very nice. ‘Krishnaji tried to question Sendra about his trip to South America for the Krishnamurti teachings, but couldn’t get him to understand his questions.’ Sendra used to go off, claiming to represent Krishnamurti all over South America giving lectures, usually talking to Theosophists.

S: Mm, hm.

M: ‘Krishnaji met a group of the Spanish-speaking people who admit that most of the Spanish people who come to Saanen come to see Krishnaji, not because they can understand what he says. The day was hot, so we went for a drive in his car to the Col du Pillon and back by the Col des Mosses.’

On the twenty-fourth, ‘Krishnaji held a young people’s discussion at 10:30 a.m. in the tent. Others could attend but could not speak. It was almost as full as for the talks. Very good on Krishnaji’s part. The slight initial aggression in questions evaporated. We drove a little afterward, but it was too hot. Had a quiet lunch. Ortolani came for coffee, bringing a present for Krishnaji of a jersey shirt from a French woman. He examined it very carefully with the absorption of a child and liked it. Put it on; it looked very nice.’ [Chuckles.]

‘Later, we went over the hill, along the river and saw a machine clawing enormous rocks from the river. Ran into Mr. and Mrs. Graf. He has got a tent as shelter for the hippies to camp in.’

‘Krishnaji asked me what I would do if he died. I asked what he would want me to do, but he wouldn’t say. Later, he came back to it again, saying how he lives between life and death—it has always been a very thin line for him. Sometimes he feels like disappearing. I asked if he meant dying. He said, “No, no,” just going off where nobody knows him. He said he had often told me that talking is necessary in what he is supposed to do. Could living quietly, remotely and just writing be sufficient? And he said, “No.”’

On the twenty-fifth of July, ‘Krishnaji weighs only fifty kilos on the scale, but looks less thin and is full of energy. This morning he had me telephone Mr. Moser in Geneva about a Mercedes. He thinks it’s too complicated to ship mine to New York as suggested by Narasimhan, as it involves getting it to the port, finding an agent, insurance, etcetera. So we are back to plan A, which is to order a new 280 SE 3.5. This took the whole morning. So, he polished shoes with a fury,’ [laughs] ‘and had his bath as the Simmonses and Lilliefelts arrived for lunch. He went merrily off down the hill for his walk. I fetched Donald and a dessert, and then we went back for Krishnaji. Erna and Theo had a baptism of fire about Brockwood as Dorothy described some of the behavior of the students before she left. Her worries over the girls here in Gstaad is because of the hippies.’ She was afraid the girls would get mixed up with the hippies. ‘I talked to Erna and Theo while Krishnaji napped. They left and then Krishnaji and I did some errands and then for a walk up over the hill. The weather has turned cold again.’

The twenty-sixth: ‘A cool day. Krishnaji gave his fifth Saanen talk, an absorbing, very clear one on fear and pleasure. To be caught in them is the bourgeois mind, or rather “the essence of the bourgeois mind is pleasure and fear.” When you are aware of yourself, see the action in you, what happens? There is a greater sensitivity. You don’t suppress or reject it; you see. The sensitivity sees joy, enjoyment, which is different from pleasure.’ Is this making sense?

S: Mm, hm. Mm, hm.

M: ‘Madame Welser’…oh, she was a French woman who had multiple sclerosis. She ‘came, as did Frasier and Dorothy, for treatment. Then, Nadia and her husband Nicolas Kossiakof.’ Did you know Nadia Kossiakof? She was an Egyptian woman with…

S: Yes!

M: …enormous turquoise eyes.

S: Yes, yes, yes.

M: Dark hair, very portly.

S: Yes, I did.

M: And she was married to a Russian, Nicolas Kossiakof, who was a journalist. Very bright man. She used to handle the French publications. ‘Also, Marcelle Bondoneau came for lunch. Krishnaji stayed talking till 2:30 p.m. Nadia spoke of seeing Radha and Jim Sloss. This prompted him to speak a little about the Rajagopal situation.’

‘Mary Cadogan had an appointment to see him at 4:15 p.m. I fetched her and sat in. The problems of Miss Keller.’ Miss Keller was a Swiss lady on the committee who didn’t like Graf. They couldn’t work together. And it says here, ‘she sounds highly neurotic. Various other matters. Then, Mary brought up reactions to Krishnaji’s talks and discussions and the feeling some people have that they can’t get through to him. Krishnaji listened and examined it and said, “The speaker also feels you are not coming to him with great buckets, etcetera. He says, ‘Please take anything you want,’ and you say, ‘Here, give us a little bit of that.’ He doesn’t want to push. He can pour, pour when you say, ‘That is not enough,’ then he can pour. He, the speaker, he says, ‘Alright, I’ll give you…you know?’”

‘It was decided to hold smaller, daily, more intense discussions at Brockwood. I took Mary back to Chalet Choucas while Krishnaji walked down the hill. We walked together a way and ran into the Simmonses. At Krishnaji’s urging, Dorothy had had a word with Alexandra and Yvonne on the danger of the hippie boys.’ That was two of the students then.

S: Mm, hm.

M: Yvonne was the…

S: …Carnes’s[5] daughter.

M: Carnes’s, yes, and Alexandra was the one with the blonde Botticelli hair. ‘On our walk back toward the car, we passed U.G. Krishnamurti, who gave the Indian salute unsmilingly with a sort of hunched turning away. Krishnaji said after we passed, “I felt something unclean.’”

S: Hm.

M: On the twenty-seventh, well, it’s about my father and his wife, who no longer recognized even the nurses and had worsened, and later that day died. And my brother flying out to help father who is in Baden-Baden[6], etcetera. I spoke with my father on the phone and will go by train to Baden-Baden and return on Friday.

On the twenty-eighth, ‘Krishnaji gave his sixth Saanen talk, and an Italian hippie, Enzo, shouted at him in the middle of it. Krishnaji, who had been talking about pleasure in sex, in various things, was quiet, then resumed, “You take pleasure in violence, in anger, etcetera.”’

‘Anneke, Doris Pratt, and Jane Hammond came to lunch. A professor and Mrs. Foster, a niece of Fredrick Pinter, and her daughter came to tea. Krishnaji and I walked later. I talked to father by telephone; Bud arrived in Paris.’

[Chuckling.] This is the twenty-ninth, ‘Krishnaji said to me, “I came from Madanapalle[7] to make you intelligent.” [Both laugh.] The taxi I had ordered didn’t come, so Krishnaji put a coat over his dressing gown, and drove me down to the station. I caught the train to Zweisimmen, and he took the car back up the hill.’ Well, this is when I go to Baden-Baden, and you don’t want to hear about all that.

I was in Baden-Baden till Friday the thirty-first. ‘I left my brother and father and took the Trans-Europa Express to Basel, changed there for a train to Bern, then on to Spiez, and then to Zweisimmen. At Spiez I had a forty-five-minute wait, so I called Tannegg to say that I’d be later than planned. Krishnaji heard the phone ring and was sure it was me and offered to meet me in Zweisimmen, but I dissuaded him. I was back by 8:45 p.m. Erna and Theo have moved into the downstairs flat. Antonia arrived to replace Olga, who leaves tomorrow’—that’s the maid. ‘Krishnaji held the second discussion with young people this morning.’

On the first of August, ‘there was the annual Saanen Gatherings Committee meeting. Krishnaji, Edgar Graf, Mary Cadogan, Doris Pratt, and me. Miss Keller said she was ill. She has been talking indiscreetly outside the Committee, saying Graf is not honest and doesn’t cooperate with her. He is the treasurer; she is the secretary. Krishnaji will talk to her next week. Fresia was also away. George Digby came for lunch (Nelly was sick), and so did Erna and Theo. They met Thursday at the Cadogan’s and all was very friendly, thank goodness. Erna’s negotiation with Harper and Row has been accepted, and they will do all the books. After lunch, there was a Krishnaji, Digby, Cadogan, de Vidas, and me meeting about French publications followed by a Spanish one with the same cast, plus Biascoechea, Farias, and Sendra. It developed that they want their own foundation. Erna was called into this meeting. There is a resentment of the English Foundation, which was evident. Mary Cadogan and George Digby are disturbed by this. Farias is quite aggressive, calls people gringos. A long, tiring day. Krishnaji and I walked a little over the hill.’

On the second of August, ‘Krishnaji held his first public discussion in the tent. The Lilliefelts and Olaf Campbell to lunch.’ He was an American who used to come.

The next day, ‘Krishnaji gave the second public discussion. Mary Cadogan came to see him. She is disturbed about the resentment of the Foundation. She has to leave tomorrow. Badger died from garden poison at Brockwood.’ That was one of the school dogs.

S: You know, I had no idea that the first dog was called Badger.

M: Didn’t you?

S: I never knew that.

M: Yes. I named Badger, Badger. Whisper came with the name Whisper.

S: Isn’t that funny. I never knew< B>[8]…

M: But Badger was black. We got a black one and a beige one.

S: Yes, yes.

M: And, ah, I thought up the name Badger just because he was black and because of Brock…

S: Well, that’s how I named Badger! [Laughs.]

M: Yes. We’d only had the first Badger less than a year. ‘Mrs. Pamela Travers and Ruth McCandless came for lunch. Mr. Moser came at 4 p.m. and discussed trading in my present Mercedes on a similar one, a new 3.5 with English right-hand drive for next year.’

On the fourth, ‘Krishnaji held the third public discussion in the tent. A Saint Bernard tethered to the fence near the car jumped at him aggressively but didn’t hurt him. After the discussion, Krishnaji saw the Biascoecheas upstairs at Tannegg, while I had a meeting downstairs with Joan Gordon and the Lilliefelts about New York next April. Then Madame Duchet and Marcelle Bondoneau came to lunch. Krishnaji asked questions on what he was like when he was about twenty-two and Marcelle first met him. Marcelle imitated the way Indians talk, animated.’ [M and S chuckle.]

‘At 4 p.m. Krishnaji gave interviews to the two Shepard sisters from South Africa, and a Bertil Gedin. A girl named Blazier telephoned to say she couldn’t come because she had just given birth to a baby.’ [Both chuckle.] ‘She was at the discussion this morning!’ [More laughing.] ‘Krishnaji drove his car a bit, and we did errands in the village.’

On the fifth of August, ‘Krishnaji’s fourth public discussion on fragmentation and thought; it was a very good one. Krishnaji saw Achard and Gaillard before lunch.’ Achard is the one who did a thesis on Krishnaji at a university in a city in the Savoie. My mind’s gone blank.

S: In the Savoie?

M: Yes. Achard did his thesis on “Le Langage de Krishnamurti” because the university wouldn’t accept a thesis just on Krishnaji’s teachings, so he had to figure out how to do it and it was acceptable to do it on Krishnaji’s language.

S: Mm, hm.

M: ‘Cragnolini, Malvias Navara, Ortolani, and Signore Betilli came to lunch. At 4 p.m., Krishnaji interviewed the twenty-year-old Californian, Jim Wallace.’ Do you remember Jim Wallace?

S: No.

M: Big blond boy. ‘Krishnaji had me vet him for his staying at Brockwood for a while. He is not a hippie, and was not involved in the fracas at the San Francisco Hotel, but seems really interested in inner things. I felt the first spark of hope that here might be a serious one who could truly benefit from Krishnaji’s teachings.’

S: What was the fracas at the San Francisco Hotel?

M: Can’t remember. [Laughs.] ‘He and Krishnaji walked down the hill, and I picked Krishnaji up on the road to Saanen.’

For the sixth of August, it reads, ‘Did errands early; lovely summer morning light in the villages, clean. The early people doing marketing. Such a sense of summer, simplicity, and that lovely inner shine this time of year always brings me. Krishnaji gave a superb fifth public discussion on inner and outer revolution. Answered all the youthful insistence on social revolution. He had enormous bursting energy. Anneke came for lunch with us in the car and discussed Amsterdam for next year. She also raised the matter of the antagonism of the Suarèses, who are here. He lectures about his Kabbalah book and doesn’t come to the talks. He doesn’t come to the talks, and he’s hopeless, according to Anneke, but she [Mrs. Suarès] came to listen and is also full of lies from Rajagopal, who has been wooing them.’ In other words, his wife came to the talks, but he didn’t.

S: Mm, hm. Mm, hm.

M: ‘Anneke stayed to lunch and de Vidas came, too. At 3 p.m., I met Dorothy at the bank and transferred to her some gold for Brockwood, which was…’ [Laughs.] I remember this! ‘…which was left to Krishnaji by an old French woman. This makes 48,280 Swiss francs or $1,115 US dollars. Dorothy was up till 3 a.m. with Joanna, who was having a fight with a hippie.’ That’s Joanna, who was a Brockwood student then, and who was here just lately with her child.

S: Mm, hm.

M: ‘Dorothy is in a mood to expel the three girls who have behaved badly here. She is tired of playing policeman to save silly girls from delinquency. The school was meant for more than that, she said. At 4 p.m., she brought up Mr. Motani, Sunita’s father.’ Sunita was that same group of first students.

S: Ah, yes, yes, yes.

M: The girl was from Pakistan, I think. ‘A Mr. and Mrs. Perrine!’ You remember Warren Perrine? He used to come around quite a bit in those days. They lived in California, up near Big Sur.

S: The name says something to me.

M: Yes. They were quite nice. It says here, ‘Perrine from California wants perhaps to buy the hundred-acre place across from Brockwood.’ What? What hundred-acre place?

S: Maybe Morton was going to sell a piece.

M: ‘They would go there and see it. It had been a very hot day, but Krishnaji walked up to the river and back. The meeting for Tapper, Leipziger, Loebl should have occurred today in Los Angeles.’ Those are the lawyers on the case.

S: Mm.

M: On the seventh of August. ‘Krishnaji gave another superb discussion in the tent. Number six. Nadia spoke to us about the Suarèses. When I came back, I telephoned to invite the Suarèses to lunch, but Madame Suarès was busy. After Krishnaji had treated Madame Welser’—that’s the paralyzed lady—‘Dorothy and Anneke and Krishnaji held a meeting with Miss Keller, Doris Pratt, and me on why Miss Keller was so antagonistic to Mr. Graf, her general indiscretions and remarks about him. She said she could not work with him, so she resigned from the Committee and will be responsible to Mary Cadogan at the Krishnamurti Foundation Trust for selling books in Zurich.’

‘Nadia came up and sat with Krishnaji through lunch and discussed the Suarèses, Rajagopal mess, etcetera. Krishnaji is upset by it. On top of everything else, another Vigeveno letter came, he says his last, saying that only Krishnaji can save the situation without interference with lawyers, etcetera. Krishnaji again would not touch it or read it but had me tell him the gist of it. He had a brief rest before the Saanen Gatherings meeting at 4 p.m. with the Grafs, Doris Pratt, and me. Krishnaji asked Graf to suggest a Swiss replacement for Miss Keller and also why, after he has been speaking for ten years here, there are only about a dozen Swiss at the talks? And what to do about this. When they left, we prepared for a walk, but there was such a thunderstorm with hail and heavy rain that we went downstairs and called on the Lilliefelts. Krishnaji is tired, and all this Suarès/Vigeveno junk is a harassment to him. He slept poorly; his body’s disturbed. He says I mustn’t be tired or it affects him.’ [Sighs.] ‘Talked to my father.’

On the eighth of August, ‘Krishnaji’s eighth public discussion. Miss Keller has not resigned from everything. Sybil Dobson and Erna and Theo came for lunch. At 4 p.m., all the foreign committees came, fifty-some people. Krishnaji talked about the function of the committees after his death and much about publications. He spelled out that Vimala Takhar has nothing to do with anything. George Digby has to answer endless questions asked by the Spanish group who, as usual, monopolize things. A Romanian woman was there, also a Russian woman, who translated books.’

On the ninth of August, ‘Sidney Roth rang from Chicago, and Erna took down in shorthand the news that will come in full from Leipziger next week. At the meeting on the sixth between Tapper, Loebl, Leipziger, Tapper proposed a settlement that leaves KWINC as a shell but gives all assets to the KFA. Loebl for the first time was conciliatory. Each lawyer now consults clients, etcetera. All of us feel Loebl’s attitude is now a key one to persuade Rajagopal. So far, so good.’ Of course, Loebl was soon out of it. Rajagopal fired him, I think.

S: Mm, hm.

M: ‘Krishnaji gave the eighth and last of the public discussions in the tent. It seems these talks and discussions were the most intense Krishnaji has ever given. Superb. He came back and saw Madame Welser, Dorothy, and Anneke for treatments. Anneke told me she has a faulty valve in her aorta. Krishnaji saw the girl, Dorothy Blazier, who had the baby last Tuesday. The baby died.’

S: Oh, dear.

M: ‘George and Nelly Digby came to lunch. We had a relaxed time, very congenial. Krishnaji talked till 4 p.m., when the Ojai group came to tea—the Hookers, Noyes, Kate Nadje…’ Kate Nadje died soon afterwards. She lived in Ojai. ‘…Essie Bates…’

S: I remember…

M: Essie Bates was a real estate woman, old lady, in her nineties.

S: Mm, hm.

M: ‘…Verna Krueger and the Lilliefelts. Krishnaji went off for a walk and when they’d gone, I joined him. I saw his footprints along the muddy road. It had been raining and then the remote figure in his raincoat and beret came along the path. He is tired but full of energy. These concentrations of meetings seem to bring him the necessary, almost limitless vitality, but they all are now over, and he will give no more interviews, etcetera. He was restless at night, cried out, “Mama! They don’t know how vast it is.” He said he might start writing.’

The tenth was ‘a cold, foggy day. Krishnaji wanted to shop for shoes, so we went to the village and he found a pair he liked for walking. Joan Wright, the American young man Jim Wallace, Canadians John and Elaine La Marquand came for lunch. The latter was a boy who seemed to be listening so intensely in the talks. Madame Duchet saw Krishnaji briefly at 4 p.m. Then Krishnaji took Dorothy Simmons and me for a ride in his Mercedes. Let her drive it, too. Both of them were quite nervous at that.’ [Chuckles.] ‘Krishnaji and I walked with Dorothy down to the van der Stratens, where she and Montague went, and Krishnaji and I came back.’ They had that chalet right by the palace before you turn down…

S: I remember.

M: ‘In the morning, Doris and Graf came by. Until the Saanen Gatherings Committee gets more members next year, Graf will sign checks alone. Paola and Jon Cohen and Alberto appeared after supper. They will move here Wednesday when Erna and Theo leave.’

S: That’s Vanda’s daughter and…

M: Yes, and Jon is her husband. And Alberto is Vanda’s son.

The eleventh. ‘I fetched Madame Suarès up the hill to see Krishnaji at noon. She has sided with Rajagopal through misinformation of Mima Porter, according to Nadia Kossiakof and Anneke, but she was upset. So Krishnaji talked to her and gave her the facts. She had been told that Krishnaji had refused to see Rajagopal. He explained why he wouldn’t see him alone and that he had tried repeatedly to meet. Blitz’s story was distorted. Alain was blamed for all of it. Krishnaji said that his trouble with Rajagopal had been going on for over ten years before Alain appeared. Krishnaji didn’t mention the attorney general at all, but said that things are now up to Rajagopal if he wishes to settle. Mima Porter sent her a seventeen-page copy of accusations for Suarès to read. If this is the Leipziger letter sent by Tapper to Loebl, it means that the KWINC board has seen it. Krishnaji told her that he doesn’t ask her or care what she does, but if she wants to write to Porter, to remember that now is the time for Rajagopal to settle. Madame Duchet, Marcelle, and Madame Suarès were at lunch. Everyone kept the amenities going. Krishnaji talked alone with Madame Suarès for a short time after lunch and then they left. Krishnaji saw Topazia, and her daughter.’ Topazia Alliata is an old friend, lives in Rome, and is a friend of Vanda’s.

S: Mm, hm.

M: You know her. She…

S: Yes.

M: ‘Also an Italian young man who wants to start a school. I fetched from the bookstore the large copy of a photo of Krishnaji taken in Chicago, on the roof of the Palmer house when he was very young. Alain had it blown up and it was used on Mrs. Ruisch’s bookstore window when Krishnaji’s books are on display. She is selling the store. The photo is too big to take to Brockwood this year. We will store it here. Krishnaji and I walked to inspect the river. Talked to Erna and Theo a little. They leave in the morning.’ What’s happened to that photograph?

S: I think it disappeared. Dorothy had it for years above her desk.

M: Yes.

S: And then she took it down, and I don’t know what happened to it.

M: Huh.

S: Shortly after I became principal we looked for it. We couldn’t find it.

M: Mm.

On the twelfth, ‘The Lilliefelts left; and the van der Stratens came for lunch. Krishnaji said he read in his Maigret[9], which he reads to practice French, the phrase, “his thought was faster than his words.”’ [Chuckles.] ‘And he realized that when he is giving a talk, he does not think at all!’ [Both laugh.] ‘Paola and Jon Cohen, Alberto, and an American girl moved into the flat downstairs.’

The thirteenth of August. ‘It was a marvelous morning, cloudless, warm, clearly the day to go out in Krishnaji’s car, and off we went, down to Aigle, Montreux, and to lunch in Lausanne at the Grappe D’Or. We walked up the hill and looked for knitted shirts. Found some. Also size 9½ socks. They were women’s socks, ribbed nylon, just what we’ve looked for. We drove back the Bulle way. It was beautiful. I took some pictures. We could see the Dent du Midi.’

‘Along the way, Krishnaji said, “Shall we talk seriously? That no one has made the change. Is there something he should do before he dies about this? I don’t feel I’m to blame.” I began to ask him what the process is of meeting a statement of his, such as “having an empty mind,” i.e., hearing that, my mind sees it has known such moments but doesn’t know if what I have known is what he refers to. I suspect it is far less, but that is speculation. How indeed should one proceed? He seemed to want to go into it but not today. I am to bring it up again. This drive was a little too long for him and he was tired, but still wanted to stop at the shoe store in Saanen—Kohi—where he found some walking shoes that pleased him. Later he said, “I come from so far away.”’

S: Hm. Completely trivial here, but that shoe store, was that the one that was right on the edge of town?

M: Yes, of Saanen. And the man who was…

S: He made shoes.

M: Yes, he made shoes. And he was a mountain ah….

S: Mountain rescue man.

M: Yes.

S: And then he went out of business.

M: Yes. A nice man.

S: Yes. Yes indeed.

M: ‘The next day, the weather was clouded. Paola, John, Alberto, and Phyllis came to lunch. I went afterward with Madame Duperrex for a ride high above Château D’Oex.’ Madame Duperrex was the concierge at Caprices; nice woman, and she used to look after things for me. ‘She’s such a nice person. Came back and walked with Krishnaji.’

Saturday, the fifteenth. ‘Paola, Alberto, John, and friend to lunch. Krishnaji saw de Vidas at 4:00 p.m. and went to the shoe store in Saanen again. Better size for Krishnaji was 39½. We went for a walk by the river. He said he thinks the second-rateness of the early people (Rajagopal, Rosalind Rajagopal, Suarès, Vigevenos, etcetera) was just that they were at hand, and therefore served a purpose in a practical sense to whatever seemed to order things around Krishnaji.’ That was his estimation. ‘The present entourage is more mature-thinking. He used the word indecent about Rajagopal and RR’—RR is Rosalind.

S: Mm, hm.

M: ‘She once kicked him with her knee, and he was in pain for days. But he never felt angry. It left no mark in his spirit. Rajagopal was as he is from the beginning. Krishnaji and Nitya both felt an aversion to him. Rajagopal once had rheumatism in India, and an Ayurvedic doctor said he could cure him if treated for a year. Rajagopal refused, saying he must leave with Krishnaji or Krishnaji would forget him. “Which was true,” said Krishnaji!’ [Both laugh.] Oh dear! [They laugh again.]

On the seventeenth of August, ‘I talked to Vanda in Rome. Ruth McCandless came at noon. Ruth told me, at my request, the sequence of her experiences as followS: that Mrs. Shannon, who was here in 1965, through her met Margot Wilke. In early 1968, after Krishnaji had agreed to speak at Claremont that autumn, she was invited by Mrs. Mathias, with whom Wilke stayed in San Francisco to meet Rosalind. They quizzed her on how Krishnaji came to be speaking at Claremont. “He can’t do that,” said

Rosalind. “Was it a group or an individual, who had arranged it?”’

‘“Both,” said Ruth. “The individual would be me, and the group was Blaisdell”’—that’s the place at Claremont that invited him. ‘“Oh, we knew Allen Blaisdell,” said Rosalind. It wasn’t until this year that Ruth learned from a passing remark of Mr. Rempel’—he was the head of Blaisdell—‘that they had to override Allen Blaisdell to have Krishnaji speak at Claremont. Within a day or two, Rosalind invited Ruth to tea and told her how easily influenced Krishnaji is, and that now I and Alain Naudé were doing so, and then launched into her usual libel of Alain. Shortly after that meeting, Mrs. Mathias rang Ruth and said that she had known Rosalind for years and knew her to be without guile, whereas she, Ruth, had guile. Furthermore, she and Margot Wilke, and Rosalind, had been friends for years and years, and no one was going to break that up. This left her amazed, said Ruth.’

‘The Suarèses then were fetched up the hill to lunch by me, and after that, Krishnaji talked alone with Mrs. Suarès, told her to ask Yo’—that’s Yo de Manziarly—‘why she didn’t attempt to find out the facts, but instead turned against him.’ You see, Yo sided with Mima, her sister…

S: I know.

M: …with Rajagopal, whereas Marcelle and Sacha remained friends of Krishnaji’s.

Let’s see. Oh, this is all about Biascoechea: ‘I went to the bank with him, where the bank manager sent a draft of $25,000 to the Cantonal Bank for the account of Alzina.’ Alzina was an account for money for Krishnaji’s needs, as he wasn’t getting any money from Rajagopal, obviously.

S: Why was the name chosen?

M: There was a Mr. de Marxof, who was a financial advisor to Frances McCann, and he suggested having an account in Switzerland where money could be put, and he thought up the name.

S: Did this account later turn into the Teachings Trust?

M: Yes.

S: Hm.

M: Yes. I was the one to handle it for Krishnaji, and the bank advised on how to invest it. ‘The bank invested in Danish bonds, paying 9 percent annually on March third, redemption in 1982. These are not subject to withholding tax. This new Alzina account is a numbered one, and Krishnaji is the owner, and power of attorney is given to me. On Wednesday, Krishnaji will come to the bank for signing. Meanwhile, at his instructions, I put a £2,000 scholarship for an Indian boy to be selected by Krishnaji to go to Brockwood, given by Madame Duchet. I put it into Dorothy Simmons’s account at the Cantonal Bank. I also arranged for Krishnaji’s trust account, and personal account to get 5 percent net. I deposited money for our use next year at Tannegg. Krishnaji walked down, and had his hair cut. We did some errands; walked by the river.’

Are we near the end of the tape?

S: We’re near the end of the tape. Is the next day a short day? It looks short—why don’t you read that one?

M: Alright. The eighteenth of August. ‘It was a nice day, clear in the morning. With Krishnaji driving, we went to Thun in his car. We ate our picnic in the same little place beside a church at the edge of the lake. We left the car for the winter at Moser’s and went over the contract for the trade-in of mine to order a new Coupe 280 SE 3.5 for the end of next April. Then we walked over to the lake steamer and took it to Spiez. The Mönch, Eiger, and Jungfrau were visible with heavy new snow. We took the bus from Spiez up the hill to the train station. Krishnaji had given much of his rice at lunch to the swans [chuckling] and some ducks. So, we went to the buffet and he had a bun and some tonic water. We took the train to Zweisimmen, where we changed onto the Gstaad one, which delighted him. He stood all the way, absorbed as a child, [S chuckles] with his hands in his driving gloves, holding the edge of the window, lost in looking out; that remote, absent look. He followed where the road went, but saw all the countryside, silently. Later he said, “I like to go in trains. You see better. I must go more in trains.”’

S: Hm.

M: ‘He used to watch from trains in India, the vast country unroll in the days before he flew. We got off in Gstaad at 6:18 p.m., bought our paper, took the shortest and most expensive ride in a taxi ever, paid five francs and got off at the palace and walked the rest of the way up hill.’ [Both laugh.] And so…do you want one more short one?

S: Yes!

M: Wednesday, the nineteenth, ‘Packed. Spoke to Vanda in Rome. Mrs. Lindberg and the Biascoecheas came to lunch. Mrs. Lindberg talked about ecology, concern of young husband in the Philippines. She talked quite a bit, rather intensely, nervous but direct, both assertive in conversation and shy. Shyness is not the surface thing, though perhaps is behind it. She was dressed in a pantsuit with odd pantoufle. Very nice, very perceptive person. Krishnaji was pleased to see her. Later, Krishnaji and I went to the bank, where he opened the Alzina account to house the Biascoechea sum. Power of attorney to me, and Krishnaji received power of attorney from Isabel Biascoechea for another $25,000.’ That was money Krishnaji could use, but it must go eventually to Isabel if something happened to Enrique.

S: Mm, hm.

M: ‘We went for chemist things, then came and took a last walk of the season to the river. Inspected the stonework. Later Krishnaji said, “Since the train ride I have felt very far away.”’

S: Hm.

M: I think that’s a good place to stop because the next day we went to Brockwood.

S: Right. Good.

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FOOTNOTES: