Krishnamurti - That Benediction is where you are: The Last Bombay Talks 1985

That Benediction is where you are: The Last Bombay Talks 1985

Copyright 2001 Krishnamurti Foundation Trust Ltd

That Benediction

is where you are

The Last Bombay Talks 1985

J. Krishnamurti

K RISHNAMURTI F OUNDATION I NDIA

Contents

Our brain, which is amazingly free in one direction, is psychologically a cripple.

Thought and time are always together. They are not two separate movements.

Sorrow is part of your self-interest, part of your egotistic, self-centred activity.

Is there a meditation that is not brought about by thought?

P UBLISHERS N OTE

That Benediction is where you are consists of the last series of public talks that Krishnamurti gave in Bombay, in February 1985. He was to go there as usual for talks in 1986 also, but unfortunately he was unable to do so; terminal illness made him go straight from Madras to Ojai, where he died on the 17th of February.

Krishnamurti came to Bombay first in 1921, and gave talks between the years 1924 and 1938. After Indias independence in 1947, his association with the city seems to have been almost continuous till 1985. Besides giving public talks, he held a series of discussions with small groups of friends. That was how dialogue as a form of communication started, and many of these dialogues have been compiled in books such as Tradition and Revolution and Exploration into Insight. He also addressed the staff and students of Bombay University in 1969 and the Indian Institute of Technology in 1984.

Over the decades, Krishnamurti witnessed the alarming growth of Bombay from a windswept coastal town to an overcrowded, noisy and polluted metropolis, and he addressed these concerns in many of his talks. However, to him these social problems were but the symptoms of the deeper disorder latent in the psyche of every human being.

Krishnamurtis public talks were generally held during weekends on the grounds of the J. J. School of Arts which, though located in the heart of the city, had an extensive canopy of trees. The Bombay audiences were perhaps the largest that Krishnamurti ever had anywhere in the world, especially in the 1970s and 1980s. They also represented a wide cross-section of society: scholars, intellectuals, politicians, businessmen, artists, housewives, sannyasis, students, as also Hindus, Muslims, Christians, Buddhists, Jains, and Parsees.

The talks in this book are remarkable for the unusual perspectives and nuances that Krishnamurti offers on the psychological issues he deals with. In the second talk, for instance, he raises various questions regarding insecurity, fragmentation, identification, and fear, but insists on the importance of merely listening to the questions and not doing anything about them. The listening, he says, is like planting a seed in the earth. What is important is to put the question.... Let the question itself answerlike the seed in the earth. Then you will see that the seed flowers and withers. Dont pull it out all the time to see if it is growing. This idea runs like a refrain throughout the talk.

There is a sense of poignancy in the substance and tone of the last talk, where Krishnamurti urges us to realize that we are wasting our lives by not freeing ourselves from our hurts, conflicts, fears, and sorrows, and by remaining in our narrow world of specialization. This freedom, he says, is the first step. The talk ends on a deeply religious note with his profound observation: So, if you give your heart and mind and brain, there is something that is beyond all time. And there is the benediction of that. Not in temples, not in churches, not in mosques. That benediction is where you are.

Included in this book are a few excerpts from Krishnamurtis writings which capture the beauty of Bombays waterfront and the atmosphere of the city, as also his sensitivity to people, the rich and the poor.

The sea was very calm and there was hardly a ripple on the white sands. Around the wide bay, to the north, was the town, and to the south were palm trees, almost touching the water. Just visible beyond the bar were the first of the sharks, and beyond them the fishermens boats, a few logs tied together with stout rope. They were making for a little village south of the palm trees. The sunset was brilliant, not where one would expect it, but in the east; it was a counter-sunset, and the clouds, massive and shapely, were lit with all the colours of the spectrum. It was really quite fantastic, and almost painful to bear. The waters caught the brilliant colours and made a path of exquisite light to the horizon.

(From Chapter 13 Virtue in Commentaries on Living First Series)

The sea was very calm that morning, more so than usual, for the wind from the south had ceased blowing, and before the north-easterly winds began, the sea was taking a rest. The sands were bleached by the sun and salt water, and there was a strong smell of ozone, mixed with that of seaweed. There wasnt anyone yet on the beach, and one had the sea to oneself. Large crabs, with one claw much bigger than the other, moved slowly about, watching, with the large claw waving in the air. There were also smaller crabs, the usual kind, that raced to the lapping water, or darted into round holes in the wet sand. Hundreds of seagulls stood about, resting and preening themselves. The rim of the sun was just coming out of the sea, and it made a golden path on the still waters. Everything seemed to be waiting for this momentand how quickly it would pass! The sun continued to climb out of the sea, which was as quiet, as a sheltered lake in some deep woods. No woods could contain these waters, they were too restless, too strong and vast; but that morning they were mild, friendly and inviting.

Under a tree above the sands and the blue water, there was going on a life independent of the crabs, the salt water and the seagulls. Large, black ants darted about, not making up their minds where to go. They would go up the tree, then suddenly scurry down for no apparent reason. Two or three would impatiently stop, move their heads about, and then, with a fierce burst of energy, go all over a piece of wood which they must have examined hundreds of times before; they would investigate it again with eager curiosity, and lose interest in it a second later. It was very quiet under the tree, though everything about one was very much alive. There was not a breath of air stirring among the leaves, but every leaf was abundant with the beauty and light of the morning. There was an intensity about the treenot the terrible intensity of reaching, of succeeding, but the intensity of being complete, simple, alone and yet part of the earth. The colours of the leaves, of the few flowers, of the dark trunk, were intensified a thousandfold, and the branches seemed to sustain the heavens. It was incredibly clear, bright and alive in the shade of that single tree.

(From Chapter 18 To Change Society You Must Break Away from It in Commentaries on Living Third Series)

It was hot and humid and the noise of the very large town filled the air. The breeze from the sea was warm, and there was the smell of tar and petrol. With the setting of the sun, red in the distant waters, it was still unyieldingly hot. The large group that filled the room presently left, and we went out into the street.

The parrots, like bright green flashes of light, were coming home to roost. Early in the morning they flew to the north, where there were orchards, green fields and open country, and in the evening they came back to pass the night in the trees of the city. Their flight was never smooth but always reckless, noisy and brilliant. They never flew straight like other birds, but were forever veering off to the left or the right, or suddenly dropping into a tree. They were the most restless birds in flight, but how beautiful they were with their red beaks and a golden green that was the very glory of light. The vultures, heavy and ugly, circled and settled down for the night on the palm trees.