Thinker who Shuns Thought
Deccan Herald, Sunday, January 4, 1981
By Mukunda
U.G. Krishnamurthy is not to be confused with J. Krishnamurthy the famous teacher. Of course U.G. – for that is what he prefers to be called – was under the influence of J.K. for seven years until he broke away from him when he underwent what he calls ‘physical mutation’ or physiological change in his 49th year. One might think both U.G. and J.K. are saying the same things but expressing it differently. U.G. disagrees strongly and likes to call himself an antidote to J.K.! In fact, according to him, J.K. has only created ‘a fantastic thought structure,’ which is not any better than Freudian psychology or some new philosophy.
U.G. is undoubtedly a phenomenon. There is something tremendously unique about the man and his ‘teachings’ if it can be called teaching at all. To talk to him is to expose oneself to a relentless disturbance. He talks tirelessly for days together in a simple conversational style; smiles and laughs amusingly when we don't appear to understand him, sometimes with apparent cynical indifference. But he is no cynic and at any rate no agnostic. One might call him a mystic but he says he has gone beyond all mystical experiences. Enlightened man? Oh no, for him there is no such thing as enlightenment. There seem to be only two things: ‘the natural state of living and the unnatural state of living in the world thoughts.’ U.G. says he is in the natural state. But what is the natural state? How did he come into this state? It is a strange puzzling story indeed!
U.G. was born on July 9, 1918, into an upper middle class Telugu-speaking Brahmin family. He was brought up in a religious atmosphere and at quite a young age began on the age-old quest for Truth. He met Ramana Maharshi at the age of 21. He enquired of Ramana, ‘Can you give me what you have?’ He ‘very much wanted “moksha.”’ ‘Yes,’ replied Ramana, ‘but can you take it?’ The question made a great impact on his mind and he came out thinking, ‘What is it he has that I can't take? I have to find it myself.’
He took to the study of philosophy and psychology at the University of Madras but dropped out in the middle of the course when he realised it was a futile exercise. Later, in his own words, he ‘drifted into the Theosophical Society,’ led by Annie Besant and Leadbeater. Some years later he came into contact with J. Krishnamurthy who was proclaimed by Annie Besant as the ‘Messiah’ of the 20th Century. During those years he had several so-called religious experiences but ‘sex remained a problem.’
In 1943, at the age of 25, U.G. married a beautiful girl who had degrees in English and Sanskrit. He was a ‘dominating husband’ he recalls. They had four children. For some years he toured the world giving lectures on theosophy though his heart was not in it. The marriage broke up in 1961. He left the Theosophical Society, left J.K. and for three years wandered about London like a man with no head, blown about like a dry leaf.’
In April of 1967, in his 49th year, U.G. happened one evening to be at the Casino de Paris with his friends. A ‘girlie show’ was in progress. Suddenly he felt something happening to him: he experienced a peculiar kind of ‘movement inside me.’ He couldn't make out who was dancing on the floor: he or the dancer! There seemed to be no division between him and the dancer.
That was the beginning of the phenomenal ‘utterly non-religious biological mutation’ which went on for several days. ‘Every cell, every nerve, every gland in his body started changing. For seven consecutive days seven different things happened to him. The continuity of thought was snapped! The ‘I’ disappeared. His eyes stopped winking ‘instinctively.’ The senses started functioning ‘at the peak of their sensitivity.’ The thymus gland, that doctors say is active through childhood until puberty and then becomes dormant, was reactivated.
‘Sensations are felt there,’ says U.G., ‘you don't translate them as good or bad. If there is a movement out of you – a clock pendulum swinging, or a bird flying across you field of vision – that movement is also felt in the thymus. There is no separation. If I close my eyes some light penetrates through the eyelids. If I cover the eyelids there is still light inside. There seems to be some kind of a hole in the forehead which does not show, but through which something penetrates. In India that light is golden, in Europe it is blue…. There is nothing mystical or spiritual about it.’ U.G. calls this ‘the natural state.’ He believes that this happened to him in spite of all his search for truth and not because of it.
U.G. is very particular in emphasising that the ‘natural state’ in which he lives ‘is not the state of a self-realised or God-realised man. It is not a thing to be achieved or willed into existence.’ It is ‘acausal.’ ‘Krishna Consciousness,’ ‘Buddha Consciousness,’ ‘Christ Consciousness,’ are only ‘thought-induced states of being’ and are ‘all trips in the wrong direction.’ According to him, every cell in our body has a mind of its own. So the whole chemistry of the body has to undergo a change if the present neurotic condition of man created by the ‘divisive movement of thought’ has to come to an end. All those loud talks of ‘psychological transformation’ or radical change of the mind and so on can never bring about a fundamental change in the world. It is nothing more than unadulterated romanticism.
U.G. can be fascinating and repulsive at the same time. But what can it be that prevents others from being in their natural state? Why is there always conflict within and without? U.G.'s answer is simple. The individual is always ‘reaching out,’ trying to be something other than what he is. This takes him away from himself. And society has put before us the ideals of a perfect man, happy man, great man, etc. And they appear in every culture; spiritual doctrine and tradition handed down through generations to tell one how to behave, what to think and what not to think: all these kill the ‘individual’ in man and have thwarted the evolutionary process if there is any such thing in nature. We are all living in a ‘thought sphere,’ says U.G., ‘your thoughts are not your own. There are only thoughts, but one creates a counter-thought – “the thinker” – with which one reads every thought.’
So one is rooted in thought and struck with the mirage. Ideas have made man only a ‘unique animal.’ Everyone is selfish to the roots of his hair however much one talks of selflessness. Fear is at the bottom of every religion, God is a neurological need. And as one thinks of God one will have thoughts of sex. The ‘perfect man,’ ‘superman,’ ‘stateless state,’ are mere myths. Love is another name for fear. ‘Thought is bourgeois’ and it is its own enemy, ultimately self-destructive. ‘This thought has the momentum of millions of years and cannot be changed.’ Mind can never change itself. The body has to undergo a ‘chemical change’ on its own. It either happens or it does not. ‘No one can help you and you cannot help yourself.’ Fatalistic?
U.G. is not only apolitical, he is even asocial. There is no religious, cultural or social content in him, he says. Simply because he gives money to Kalyani (who is supposed to be mad and meets U.G. frequently at his place in Basavangudi) to prevent her from begging on the streets, or if he talks to you politely doesn't make him a social animal. He is not bothered which way the world goes. He thinks that the people by whatever they do are going to destroy themselves anyway. When somebody speaks to him he responds. When he feels hunger he eats food (beaten rice with milk for breakfast, kichidi for lunch and supper). He sleeps just 3 to 4 hours. He takes a bath everyday and usually goes out for a walk in the mornings. His body, 62 years old, is vulnerable to infection yet remarkably fast in getting over it. His friends look after his needs. Otherwise, he says, he would be working to earn his living. He lives in Switzerland; every winter he is in Bangalore. Wherever he goes in the world, all kinds of people meet him, from students to scientists.
Why does he talk to people and of what value is it if ‘the natural state’ he speaks of cannot be achieved through volition? His answer is again simple: ‘I am not a saviour of mankind. I am not in the holy business. Man has existed for centuries and he is going to continue. Nobody has given me the mandate. You are that saviour, not me.’
‘I am only interested in describing this state, in clearing away the occultation and mystification in which those people in the holy business have shrouded the whole thing. Maybe I can convince you not to waste a lot of time and energy looking for a state which does not exist except in your imagination.’
Will mankind stop at that? Perhaps man will continue to create new cultures, new religions and philosophies. And there will be wars, revolutions, fight against poverty, disease and exploitation, and always that haunting fear of death and desire to live, love and perpetuate. Is it all merely the neurological needs of man?
