It was on the shores of Mumbai (then Bombay) that Krishnamurti first touched a new India, two months after independence in October, 1947. He came then to a free but turbulent India as a teacher, a sage, a seer—radiant, vibrant, full of the abundance of life, living very much in the present and yet rooted in his timeless insights into truth. He reached out to the land and the people of Mumbai.
And the people of Mumbai too responded whole-heartedly to the call of that voice. They thronged the grounds of the J. J. School of Arts where he spoke, over three weekends every year, to literally thousands of them. It is reckoned that it was in Mumbai city that he drew the largest of crowds among all cities in the world. They were all there—men and women of all religions, castes, creeds, of all persuasions, rich and poor, celebrities and common folk, intellectuals and ordinary people, teachers and students, politicians - the mighty, the powerful and the quiet, and the unknown. And they sat listening in rapt silence, to that voice that spoke with rare eloquence, passionately, of the totality of human existence—its joys and pleasures, its struggles and strife, as also of sorrow, love and death. He was at once uncompromising and relentless as he was affectionate and compassionate. Each one there felt Krishnamurti was addressing his own problem directly. It was obvious that they were deeply touched by this voice of truth.
And the people of Mumbai too responded whole-heartedly to the call of that voice. They thronged the grounds of the J. J. School of Arts where he spoke, over three weekends every year, to literally thousands of them. It is reckoned that it was in Mumbai city that he drew the largest of crowds among all cities in the world. They were all there—men and women of all religions, castes, creeds, of all persuasions, rich and poor, celebrities and common folk, intellectuals and ordinary people, teachers and students, politicians - the mighty, the powerful and the quiet, and the unknown. And they sat listening in rapt silence, to that voice that spoke with rare eloquence, passionately, of the totality of human existence—its joys and pleasures, its struggles and strife, as also of sorrow, love and death. He was at once uncompromising and relentless as he was affectionate and compassionate. Each one there felt Krishnamurti was addressing his own problem directly. It was obvious that they were deeply touched by this voice of truth.




