From the book Krishnamurti 100 yearsby Evelyne Blau

T . K . V . Desikachar - Yoga Master, Madras, India

HE TAUGHT SO MUCH BY HIS EXAMPLE...CLEANLINESS, PUNCTUALITY,
DIGNITY OF LABOR, RESPECT FOR OTHERS, HUMILITY BEFORE THE TEACHER
WHATEVER HIS STATURE OR AGE, KEENNESS TO LEARN THOROUGHLY,
CONSIDERATION FOR OTHER CULTURES. T.K.V. DESIKACHAR

I first became aware of Krishnaji in a letter my uncle B.K.S. Iyengar (renowned yoga
teacher) wrote to my father from Switzerland. For my uncle, it was a great event when
Krishnaji attended his Asana Demonstration in Saanen. My father showed me the letter,
but the information had little impact on me.

Eventually, however, events brought me very close to Krishnaji. We were to meet year
after year, travel together, share thoughts, and chat about mutual friends and all
despite, or perhaps because of, the very traditional student teacher relationship which I
maintained with my father the great yoga master and philosopher T. Krishnamacharya.
How this came about I will share with you.

In December of 1965, Alain Naud, the Secretary to J. Krishnamurti, called on my father
at our small flat in Gopalauram, Madras. He had a message from Krishnaji. It was a
request for my father to visit his residence and demonstrate to Krishnaji how asanas
and pranayams (yoga postures and breath control) should be practiced. My father
readily agreed. On the appointed day, Alain Naud came to take him to Vasanta Vihar.
My father asked my brother, Shribhashyam, and me to join him.

When we arrived, Krishnaji came out with folded hands and thanked my father profusely
for the visit. My first recollection of Krishnaji is of a gentle, elderly person with a long,
flowing shirt and very straight back. He took Krishnamacharyas hand and led us into
his room. Soon he expressed his wish to see how we practiced yoga.

On my fathers instruction, my brother and I began the demonstration of yoga postures.
After some thirty minutes of observation, Krishnaji enthusiastically requested of my
father, Sir, I want to learn asanas from you, but you should not be disturbed. Can you
send one of your sons? I translated this request to my father. My father assured
Krishnaji that he would arrange something soon.

This first visit in December of 1965 started an association with Krishnaji which was
terminated only by his recent death.

The following day when Alain Naud again called, my father directed me to go to
Krishnaji, insisting I should show the greatest respect.

When I went to his residence, Vasanta Vihar, there he was on the porch with open arms
to welcome me. As he led me to his room, he enquired affectionately about my father as
if they had known one another for ages. Before beginning our first lesson I expressed a
desire to see Krishnajis yoga practice. He was ready in no time. In spite of his sixty-
nine years, the postures he demonstrated were of the most advanced natureall the
variations of headstand, shoulder stand, hand balance, and many difficult back arches.
And although his frame was small and the postures varied and stupefying, his chest
was as tight as a barrel. I also noticed that his breath was restricted and panting, his
hands trembled, his neck was like granite, and his eyes sometimes rolled with tears. Yet
his enthusiasm never flagged.

I explained to Krishnaji that he must practice postures and breathing exercises that
could reduce these problems, and certainly not ones that would increase them. He
simply accepted my advice and assured me that he was there to learn whatever I would
teach. He also gave me more information about his health. It was obvious that he
needed special attention and clear, too, that I needed guidance in these matters. I took
leave, confessing that I would ask my father for direction. Krishnaji was pleased. We
agreed to meet the following day.

I discussed Krishnajis yoga practice and health problems with my father. He felt that
Krishnaji should do very simple postures and breathing regimens. He gave me clear
instructions, some of which were so unique to my experience that I was taken aback.
For example, he wanted me to teach Krishnaji a pose with his legs raised against the
wall. Here he should remain doing deep breathing. No more head stand! His neck
stiffness was to be corrected by the most simple of head movements. I faithfully carried
out my fathers instructions. Krishnaji was so keen to learn that I saw him every day,
some days more than once. I was amazed at his remarkable ability to adjust to this new
instruction, so contrary was it to the instruction which he had previously received and
practiced. In a few weeks, there was no trace of previous training.

His practice was so regular and punctual that it amazed me. Every day he would be on
the porch, right on the dot, to receive me. His place of practice was immaculate.
Everything was in its place, right down to his pencil and magazine. He was always
eager to understand the signficance of what was taught him. Thanks to his probing
questions, I was forced to learn more and more about yoga from my teacher. He often
would ask me, What is Yoga? What is Yoga? And the only answer that seemed to
have satisfied him was when I defined it as Shanti. [Peace is the equivalent English
word.]

His attitude towards me was exactly as a student towards his teacher. He would not sit
before I did. He would lead me into his room. He would never let me help him to arrange
the carpet for his practice. It was not easy for me, in my twenty-seventh year, to let this
happenespecially when the student was sixty-nine and J. Krishnamurtibut I had no
choice.

His health began to show signs of improvement. When he left Madras for the school at
Rishi Valley, he invited me to join him. Later he invited me to Saanen, Switzerland. He
insisted that I must go there to continue our classes and to teach some of his friends. I
assured him that I must first consult with my teacher in Madras and would respond.

Back in Madras my father advised me to accept the invitation. But I felt that first my
uncle, Shri B.K.S. Iyengar, who for many years had taught both Krishnaji and other
friends of Krishnajis in Saanen, must approve this arrangement. I wrote to Krishnaji
accordingly.

Krishnaji met with my uncle in Bombay and I soon received a positive letter. So while
hesitant, I was left with no choice but to accept Krishnajis invitation.

In June 1966, I went to Saanen, where I stayed with Krishnaji in Chalet Tannegg. In a
few weeks, my uncle arrived to give his classes. He also stayed in the chalet.

Here I was, teaching Krishnaji, while in the same chalet my uncle was teaching his
students. And it was here just the previous year that it was he teaching Krishnaji. The
potential for tension was real, yet Krishnaji did everything possible to make me at ease
in spite of the delicate situation. Thanks to his care my first visit to Europe came off well
and nothing happened to strain my relationship with my uncle, with whom I am still on
the best of terms.

Krishnaji introduced me to so many distinguished visitors. He showed me some of the
best places in Switzerland. He himself would drive his Mercedes and talk about the
special features of the car. In all the conversations I found that he was so well informed
about different parts of the world and various customs of the West.

In fact, my first lessons on western table manners came from him: Dont rest the
elbows on the table. Use the left hand for the fork. Dont spread your elbows. Dont take
your mouth to the plate. Wait for the second helping. He also introduced me to the
value of eating fruit first, why salads must precede cooked food, what nuts were best,
how to crack Brazil nuts. He was so meticulous about different household chores. He
used to clean the bathroom himself. I used to see him, many times, cleaning the
bathroom, and he would say, One should leave it as clean as it was before it was
used. His bits of advice when dealing with people and situations were unequivocal:
Dont be another monkey.
Be yourself.
Watch the other fool [when driving a car].

He insisted on taking me to the best places when we dined out. What taste! What
concern for the guest. He had his secretary at my disposal for anything I needed during
my visit.

Often he would take me for walks. On these walks he would urge me to study, to learn
everything my father had to teach. He even offered me a scholarship so that necessity
would not keep me from this study, and that was when he himself had financial
problems. One day he told me, Sir, if necessary, I will sell my shirt and send you
money, but please study; you must.

The following year, when Krishnaji returned to Madras, I phoned Vasanta Vihar for an
appointment. The gentleman who received my call did not know me. He replied curtly,
You cannot see Krishnaji. Maybe after a few weeks, not now. I responded, Sir, it is
not so much that it is I who seek to see Krishnaji. It is perhaps Krishnaji who would see
me. He was surprised, What is your name? I gave him my name. He tersely told me,
Wait. In a few seconds he came back. Excuse me. Krishnaji is on his way to speak to
you. When Krishnaji arrived he was so apologetic, even though I made no mention of
this interchange.

Krishnaji expressed a wish to see my father. He came to our small flat in Mandaveli. He
sat on the bare floor facing my father. Even though my father is not conversant in
English, he made sure that my father got the following message: Sir, please teach your
son Desikachar everything you know.

Every year, for nearly ten years, I gave lessons to Krishnajisometimes in England,
sometimes in Switzerland, often in Madras. Every time I saw him he was a fresh
student ready to learn something new. I always had the privilege of visiting him
whenever I wished. However, after our formal lessons ceased, I did not see him for
several years because I did not want to disturb him.

In 1984, we met after a break of two years. I was surprised when he challenged me,
Why have we not met these years? Maybe you have become a big shot.

In January 1985 we met again. He invited me for lunch. I suggested that it was I who
should invite him. Maybe I can offer a meal of Vedic Chant? He was quick in
response, Sir, do it. Do it now. I suggested bringing a small group to make it more
interesting.

We did the chant. He sat attentively through ninety minutes, sometimes chanting with
us. At the end of the session, he asked for a specfic piece, it was a prayer to Krishna,
from Mukunda Mala.

Last January 1986 I met with him a few days before his sudden departure to the United
States. He was his same old self. He enquired about my family. He wanted me to take
his respects to my father. Spontaneously I made a totally uncharacteristic request, Sir, I
ask for your blessings. He replied, No, sir, we are friends.

That was the last message he gave me.