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
If Not Moksha, At Least a Transistor—Krishna Bhagavatar
Thus began the time of my moving into the house on Anjaneya Temple Street. That winter was cold. A sonorous voice could be heard passing on the street every morning singing to the accompaniment of cymbals the chant "Hari Narayana, Hari Narayana."
U.G. had noticed him, too, and remarked one day: "I see someone going on the street everyday singing Bhajans. His shoulders are covered with a shawl. I wonder who he is?" When he came into our house on the Shivaratri day in the same attire, then we knew that he was no less than Mr. Bangalore Krishna Bhagavatar, known not only in Bangalore, but throughout South India.
Everyone called him Bhagavatar. He was a guru to many. He wore a white Glasgow Mull dhoti, a white shirt, a Kashmir shawl on his shoulders, and a rosary around his neck. His body being fair shone through the clothes. He wore marks of vibhuti (ashes) on his forehead. In the middle of those marks, he wore a round red vermilion mark. The Bhagavatar was an attractive man. Although he was over seventy five, he looked healthy and strong. He had a college degree in agriculture and had worked for some years. His wife's and son's deaths when he was twenty five caused havoc in his life.
He renounced everything and took to traveling. There was no holy place he did not visit. There was no ashram he did not go to. At last, he attained peace in the presence of a guru in Srirangam. When the guru provoked the artistic talent in him by showing him a way of attaining self-satisfaction through entertaining everyone by singing Harikathas (Stories of Gods; lit. stories of Vishnu), Bhagavatar's life gained a new purpose.
Since then, for the next fifty years, he had a steady life. He not only studied Indian culture and tradition thoroughly, but also practiced them in his everyday life. As a last living witness to the Indian Tradition, he went around the city singing devotional songs. The Rama temples he had built by singing Hari Kathas and collecting contributions remain today as a tribute to his memory. He was a great scholar, and was fluent not only in the Kannada, Tamil and Telugu languages but also in English. He wrote Harikathas in all four languages.
One day, when he was on his City Singing rounds, he visited my friend Sanjiva Rao's house. As Sanjiva Rao knew about the Bhagavatar's spiritual quest, he told him, "In this same street there is a jnani called U.G. Krishnamurti. He just arrived from Switzerland. Go and visit him." Bhagavatar received this information rather lightly. He replied, "You can't fool me. I have seen and heard many Krishnamurtis before." At the same time my friend's wife, who was standing next to them asked, "Swami, what's the significance of today?"
"Today is Maha Shivaratri, my lady. I must go to the Shiva Temple from here."
She said, "If you really want to visit Shiva in person, there is a living Shiva in Viswanath's house at the end of this street. Go and visit him." Bhagavatar was shocked at her words. He was more inclined to believe her than her husband. He straightaway arrived at the doorway of U.G., and since that day U.G.'s house became Bhagavatar's second home. He ran to it whenever he thought of U.G.
Ever since he found U.G., there was never an end to his jubilation. He used to address U.G. as Appa (Lit. 'Father'), although U.G. was twenty years younger than him. This reminded me of how Sri Ramana Maharshi addressed Mr. Ganapati Sastry, who was older than him, as 'Nayana' ('Father'). Bhagavatar also used to call Valentine 'Mother.' He used to sit by U.G.'s side and relate many stories about devotees (of gods) in a tasteful manner, acting them out.
Whenever Bhagavatar's eyes rolled in tears, U.G.'s eyes too became moist. Bhagavatar used to appreciate that in U.G., "Appa is really a lover of devotees. He is moved by their devotion." When he quoted a saying in Sanskrit "bhaktireva gariyasi..." ('with bhakti thou shall excel') and looked meaningfully at U.G., the latter merely smiled and collected himself. The smile could be read as, "as if you know what bhakti really means." But U.G. never condemned Bhagavatar's faith or beliefs.
When at times U.G. started his tirade on human culture and civilization, immediately Bhagatar used to get up and run out saying, "'Father', it's time for me to go. Goodbye." He didn't have the courage to withstand the attacks.
Even after U.G. had left for Switzerland, Bhagavatar used to come and chat with me every day. He was quite keen on composing a Hari Katha on U.G. in English. But he was terribly disappointed when he couldn't find even a sampling of any of the elements which would normally be found in the lives of spiritual people (or Devotees).
Meanwhile, it was getting close to U.G.'s birthday. Bhagavatar was enthusiastic about celebrating it along with all of us. We all agreed. But how could we do it without informing U.G. about it? What would he say if he knew about it? I decided to write to him, no matter what the consequence might be. Just as we expected, U.G. replied scolding us: "Celebrating the birthday of anyone is an immature, childish, infantile activity. How can you do such a thing to me?"
He concluded the letter with, "...That is your house. You may spend your time in fasts, feasts and festivals, but leave this individual who has neither birth nor death severely alone...." That was a lesson to us. When I showed the letter to Bhagavatar, he started laughing: "That's right, Appa, that's right. True, we are still children. We keep playing." Then he borrowed a photo of U.G. from me to get an enlargement and frame it.
The U.G.'s Birthday tradition which began thus continued uninterrupted for ten years. We used to set up the picture of U.G., listen to some tapes of U.G.'s, and make someone speak about U.G. We would send greetings to U.G. and all of us used to sign it. "My birthday gathers bigger crowds than I do," U.G. joked. Apparently, once, when no one was around, Bhagavatar held U.G.'s feet saying, "Appa, no one else cares for me. Only you can show me the way to moksha."
U.G. instantly picked him up trying to prevent him from holding his feet. He said, "You spent so many years with Ramana Maharshi. Why didn't you ask him?"
"At that time, I didn't have either that interest or yearning. Now, I feel I don't want anything else," he answered.
U.G. said, "That's the only thing I cannot give. It's not something that someone can give and someone else can receive. You ask for anything else. I will give that." As soon as he said that, the Bhagavatar asked U.G. to get him a small transistor, U.G. reported. U.G. jokes about him saying, "His interest slipped fast from moksha to a transistor." But I had no doubt about the earnestness of the Bhagavatar. He used to treasure his acquaintance with U.G. Even when he was 92 and unable to move, he used to come and see U.G. every year. Bhagavatar moved his camp from this world the same year that we changed our residence to Poornakutee.
U.G. had noticed him, too, and remarked one day: "I see someone going on the street everyday singing Bhajans. His shoulders are covered with a shawl. I wonder who he is?" When he came into our house on the Shivaratri day in the same attire, then we knew that he was no less than Mr. Bangalore Krishna Bhagavatar, known not only in Bangalore, but throughout South India.
Everyone called him Bhagavatar. He was a guru to many. He wore a white Glasgow Mull dhoti, a white shirt, a Kashmir shawl on his shoulders, and a rosary around his neck. His body being fair shone through the clothes. He wore marks of vibhuti (ashes) on his forehead. In the middle of those marks, he wore a round red vermilion mark. The Bhagavatar was an attractive man. Although he was over seventy five, he looked healthy and strong. He had a college degree in agriculture and had worked for some years. His wife's and son's deaths when he was twenty five caused havoc in his life.
He renounced everything and took to traveling. There was no holy place he did not visit. There was no ashram he did not go to. At last, he attained peace in the presence of a guru in Srirangam. When the guru provoked the artistic talent in him by showing him a way of attaining self-satisfaction through entertaining everyone by singing Harikathas (Stories of Gods; lit. stories of Vishnu), Bhagavatar's life gained a new purpose.
Since then, for the next fifty years, he had a steady life. He not only studied Indian culture and tradition thoroughly, but also practiced them in his everyday life. As a last living witness to the Indian Tradition, he went around the city singing devotional songs. The Rama temples he had built by singing Hari Kathas and collecting contributions remain today as a tribute to his memory. He was a great scholar, and was fluent not only in the Kannada, Tamil and Telugu languages but also in English. He wrote Harikathas in all four languages.
One day, when he was on his City Singing rounds, he visited my friend Sanjiva Rao's house. As Sanjiva Rao knew about the Bhagavatar's spiritual quest, he told him, "In this same street there is a jnani called U.G. Krishnamurti. He just arrived from Switzerland. Go and visit him." Bhagavatar received this information rather lightly. He replied, "You can't fool me. I have seen and heard many Krishnamurtis before." At the same time my friend's wife, who was standing next to them asked, "Swami, what's the significance of today?"
"Today is Maha Shivaratri, my lady. I must go to the Shiva Temple from here."
She said, "If you really want to visit Shiva in person, there is a living Shiva in Viswanath's house at the end of this street. Go and visit him." Bhagavatar was shocked at her words. He was more inclined to believe her than her husband. He straightaway arrived at the doorway of U.G., and since that day U.G.'s house became Bhagavatar's second home. He ran to it whenever he thought of U.G.
Ever since he found U.G., there was never an end to his jubilation. He used to address U.G. as Appa (Lit. 'Father'), although U.G. was twenty years younger than him. This reminded me of how Sri Ramana Maharshi addressed Mr. Ganapati Sastry, who was older than him, as 'Nayana' ('Father'). Bhagavatar also used to call Valentine 'Mother.' He used to sit by U.G.'s side and relate many stories about devotees (of gods) in a tasteful manner, acting them out.
Whenever Bhagavatar's eyes rolled in tears, U.G.'s eyes too became moist. Bhagavatar used to appreciate that in U.G., "Appa is really a lover of devotees. He is moved by their devotion." When he quoted a saying in Sanskrit "bhaktireva gariyasi..." ('with bhakti thou shall excel') and looked meaningfully at U.G., the latter merely smiled and collected himself. The smile could be read as, "as if you know what bhakti really means." But U.G. never condemned Bhagavatar's faith or beliefs.
When at times U.G. started his tirade on human culture and civilization, immediately Bhagatar used to get up and run out saying, "'Father', it's time for me to go. Goodbye." He didn't have the courage to withstand the attacks.
Even after U.G. had left for Switzerland, Bhagavatar used to come and chat with me every day. He was quite keen on composing a Hari Katha on U.G. in English. But he was terribly disappointed when he couldn't find even a sampling of any of the elements which would normally be found in the lives of spiritual people (or Devotees).
Meanwhile, it was getting close to U.G.'s birthday. Bhagavatar was enthusiastic about celebrating it along with all of us. We all agreed. But how could we do it without informing U.G. about it? What would he say if he knew about it? I decided to write to him, no matter what the consequence might be. Just as we expected, U.G. replied scolding us: "Celebrating the birthday of anyone is an immature, childish, infantile activity. How can you do such a thing to me?"
He concluded the letter with, "...That is your house. You may spend your time in fasts, feasts and festivals, but leave this individual who has neither birth nor death severely alone...." That was a lesson to us. When I showed the letter to Bhagavatar, he started laughing: "That's right, Appa, that's right. True, we are still children. We keep playing." Then he borrowed a photo of U.G. from me to get an enlargement and frame it.
The U.G.'s Birthday tradition which began thus continued uninterrupted for ten years. We used to set up the picture of U.G., listen to some tapes of U.G.'s, and make someone speak about U.G. We would send greetings to U.G. and all of us used to sign it. "My birthday gathers bigger crowds than I do," U.G. joked. Apparently, once, when no one was around, Bhagavatar held U.G.'s feet saying, "Appa, no one else cares for me. Only you can show me the way to moksha."
U.G. instantly picked him up trying to prevent him from holding his feet. He said, "You spent so many years with Ramana Maharshi. Why didn't you ask him?"
"At that time, I didn't have either that interest or yearning. Now, I feel I don't want anything else," he answered.
U.G. said, "That's the only thing I cannot give. It's not something that someone can give and someone else can receive. You ask for anything else. I will give that." As soon as he said that, the Bhagavatar asked U.G. to get him a small transistor, U.G. reported. U.G. jokes about him saying, "His interest slipped fast from moksha to a transistor." But I had no doubt about the earnestness of the Bhagavatar. He used to treasure his acquaintance with U.G. Even when he was 92 and unable to move, he used to come and see U.G. every year. Bhagavatar moved his camp from this world the same year that we changed our residence to Poornakutee.
