Stopped In Our Tracks
Stories of U.G. In India from the Notebooks of K. ChandrasekharTranslated and Edited by J.S.R.L. Narayana Moorty 2d/3d Series
Consider Me As Part of the Furniture—Nagaraj
Nagaraj was the private secretary to the Postmaster General of Karnataka and also the secretary for the Shorthand Association. He never married. "The cigarette is my Beloved," he used to say. After hearing of U.G. and meeting him, he became disillusioned with J.K. (J. Krishnamurti). After that, whenever U.G. came to Bangalore, Nagaraj would apply for two or three months' leave from his office and spend that time with U.G. Just as he would usually go to his office carrying his lunch in a tiffin carrier, he would also bring his lunch to the house in the Anjaneya Temple Street.
"U.G., consider me as part of the furniture here. I have nothing to ask of you. Please let me just hang around here. That's all I want," he used to say. He wrote down in shorthand in his notebooks the questions U.G.'s visitors would ask and also reported on the events that occurred around U.G. Those records became our major preoccupation after U.G. left India: Nagaraj would type up his notes, make copies and distribute them to all our friends. We would read and enjoy them. Mind is a Myth is a book that came out of those notes prepared by Nagaraj.
Nagaraj retired after we moved to Poornakutee. He asked U.G. to help him quit his habit of cigarette smoking as he was wasting a lot of money on it. U.G. answered, "Double your quota. Don't stop smoking." Nagaraj didn't heed this advice.
In spite of U.G.'s advice, Nagaraj quit smoking and sank into a heavy depression. About a year later, one morning, he got up from sleep, drank his coffee, went to bed again and went to sleep forever. It took me a long time to collect myself after his death. Whenever there was a mention of Nagaraj during conversations, U.G. used to say to divert us, "Where did Nagaraj go? He is here with us." Maybe he is with us while I am writing this. Nagaraj, are you listening to your story? Among all the friends that gathered around U.G., Nagaraj was my most intimate.
I can't speak enough about him. The Sundays we spent transcribing his notes on U.G. in his office working for hours together, the phone conversations we would have with U.G. from that office, the funny jokes Nagaraj would tell—the more I think of those memories, the more forlorn I feel.
"U.G., consider me as part of the furniture here. I have nothing to ask of you. Please let me just hang around here. That's all I want," he used to say. He wrote down in shorthand in his notebooks the questions U.G.'s visitors would ask and also reported on the events that occurred around U.G. Those records became our major preoccupation after U.G. left India: Nagaraj would type up his notes, make copies and distribute them to all our friends. We would read and enjoy them. Mind is a Myth is a book that came out of those notes prepared by Nagaraj.
Nagaraj retired after we moved to Poornakutee. He asked U.G. to help him quit his habit of cigarette smoking as he was wasting a lot of money on it. U.G. answered, "Double your quota. Don't stop smoking." Nagaraj didn't heed this advice.
In spite of U.G.'s advice, Nagaraj quit smoking and sank into a heavy depression. About a year later, one morning, he got up from sleep, drank his coffee, went to bed again and went to sleep forever. It took me a long time to collect myself after his death. Whenever there was a mention of Nagaraj during conversations, U.G. used to say to divert us, "Where did Nagaraj go? He is here with us." Maybe he is with us while I am writing this. Nagaraj, are you listening to your story? Among all the friends that gathered around U.G., Nagaraj was my most intimate.
I can't speak enough about him. The Sundays we spent transcribing his notes on U.G. in his office working for hours together, the phone conversations we would have with U.G. from that office, the funny jokes Nagaraj would tell—the more I think of those memories, the more forlorn I feel.
