The Turning Point

Nitya's account

Nitya is the brother of Krishnamurti. He recounts here his version of what happened on the 20th of August 1922.

[Huge snip. Description of Krishnamurti suffering great pain for unknown reason from Thursday to Sunday. Resuming now on Sunday evening.]

Then Mr Warrington had a heaven-sent inspiration. In front of the house a few yards away stands a young pepper tree, with delicate leaves of a tender green, now heavy with scented blossoms, and all day it is the 'murmurous haunt of bees', little canaries and bright humming birds. He gently urged Krishna to go out under that tree, and at first Krishna would not, then went of his own accord.

Now we were in a starlit darkness and Krishna sat under a roof of delicate leaves black against the sky. He was still murmuring unconsciously but presently there came a sigh of relief and he called out to us, "Oh, why didn't you send me out here before?" Then came a brief silence.

And now he began to chant. Nothing had passed his lips for nearly three days and his body was utterly exhausted with the intense strain, and it was a quiet weary voice we heard chanting the mantram sung every night at Adyar in the Shrine Room. Then silence.

Long ago in Taormina, as Krishna had looked with meditative eyes upon a beautiful painting of our Lord Gautama in mendicant garb, we had felt for a blissful moment the divine presence of the Great One, who had deigned to send a thought. And again this night, as Krishna, under the young pepper tree, finished his song of adoration, I thought of the Tathagata [the Buddha] under the Bo tree, and again I felt pervading the peaceful valley a wave of that splendour, as if again He had sent a blessing upon Krishna.

We sat with eyes fixed upon the tree, wondering if all was well, for now there was perfect silence, and as we looked I saw suddenly for a moment a great Star shining above the tree, and I knew that Krishna's body was being prepared for the Great One. I learned across and told Mr Warrington of the Star.

The place seemed to be filled with a Great Presence and a great longing came upon me to go on my knees and adore, for I knew that the Great Lord of all our hearts had come Himself; and though we saw  Him not, yet all felt the splendour of His presence.

Then the eyes of Rosalind were opened and she saw. Her face changed as I have seen no face change, for she was blessed enough to see with physical eyes the glories of that night. Her face was transfigured, as she said to us, 'Do you see Him, do you see Him?' for she saw the divine Bodhisattva [the Lord Maitreya], and millions wait for incarnations to catch such a glimpse of our Lord, but she had eyes of innocence and had served our Lord faithfully. And we who could not see saw the Splendours of the night mirrored in her face pale with rapture in the starlight.

Never shall I forget the look on her face, for presently I who could not see but who gloried in the presence of our Lord felt that He turned towards us and spoke some words to Rosalind; her face shone with divine ecstasy as she answered, 'I will, I will,' and she spoke the words as if they were a promise given with splendid joy. Never shall I forget her face when I looked at her; even I was almost blessed with vision. Her face showed the rapture of her heart, for the innermost part of her being was ablaze with His presence but her eyes saw. And silently I prayed that He might accept me as His servant and all our hearts were full of that prayer. In the distance we heard divine music softly played, all of us heard though hidden from us were the Gandharvas. [Cosmic angels who make the music of the spheres.]

The radiance and the glory of the many Beings present lasted nearly an half hour and Rosalind, trembling and almost sobbing with joy, saw it all; "Look, do you see?" she would often repeat, or "Do you hear the music?" Then presently we heard Krishna's footsteps and saw his white figure coming up in the darkness, and all was over. And Rosalind cried out, "Oh, he is coming; go get him, go get him" and fell back in her chair almost in a swoon. When she recovered, alas, she remembered nothing, nothing, all was gone from her memory except the sound of music still in her ears.

Krishnamurti's account