Дневник Кришнамурти - [33]

not the fruit of thought; it comes with the perception of the whole.

The morning breeze had gone and not a leaf was stirring; the river had become utterly still and the noises on the other bank came across the wide waters. Even the parrots were quiet.

9 TH OCTOBER 1973

You went by a narrow-gauge train that stopped at almost every station where vendors of hot coffee and tea, blankets and fruit, sweets and toys, were shouting their wares. Sleep was almost impossible and in the morning all the passengers got into a boat that crossed the shallow waters of the sea to the island. There a train was waiting to take you to the capital, through green country of jungles and palms, tea plantations and villages. It was a pleasant and happy land. By the sea it was hot and humid but in the hills where the tea plantations were it was cool and in the air there was the smell of ancient days, uncrowded and simple. But in the city, as in all cities, there was noise, dirt, the squalor of poverty and the vulgarity of money; in the harbour there were ships from all over the world.

The house was in a secluded part and there was a constant flow of people who came to greet him with garlands and fruit. One day, a man asked if he would like to see a baby elephant and naturally we went to see it. It was about two weeks old and the big mother was nervous and very protective, we were told. The car took us out of town, past the squalor and dirt to a river with brown water, with a village on its bank; tall and heavy trees surrounded it. The big dark mother and the baby were there. He stayed there for several hours till the mother

привыкла к нему; потом он был ей представлен, и слониха разрешила ему погладить её длинный хобот и угостить её фруктами и сахарным тростником. Подвижный кончик хобота просил ещё, и яблоки и бананы были отправлены в ее большой рот. Новорожденный слонёнок, помахивая своим крошечным хоботом, стоял между ног матери. Слонёнок был совершенной её копией. Наконец, мать позволила дотронуться до её малыша. Его кожа была не слишком жёсткой, а хобот непрерывно двигался, он был самой подвижной частью его маленького тела. Слониха всё время была настороже, и служителю время от времени приходилось её успокаивать. Слонёнок был очень игривый.

Женщина, вошедшая в небольшую комнату, была в глубоком горе. Её сын был убит на войне. "Я его очень любила, и он был моим единственным ребёнком; он был хорошо воспитан, и в нём чувствовалось много добра и большой талант. Его убили — почему так должно было случиться именно с ним и со мной? Мы так любили и так были привязаны друг к другу. То, что произошло, слишком жестоко". Она рыдала, и, казалось, не было конца её слезам. Она взяла его руку и вскоре достаточно успокоилась, чтобы слушать.

Мы тратим так много средств на обучение своих детей; мы так заботимся о них; мы сильно к ним привязываемся; они заполняют нашу одинокую жизнь; в них мы видим осуществление собственных надежд, продолжение собственной жизни. Для чего нам нужно образование? Чтобы стать машинами? Чтобы проводить свои дни в тяжёлом труде и умереть от несчастного случая или мучительной болезни? Это та жизнь, которую принесла нам наша культура, наша религия. Всюду в мире жёны или матери льют слезы; война или болезнь лишила их сына или мужа. Является ли любовь привязанностью? Является ли она слезами и мукой утраты, одиночеством и

got used to him; he had to be introduced, was allowed to touch her long trunk and to feed her some fruit and sugar cane. The sensitive end of the trunk was asking for more, and apples and bananas went into her wide mouth. The newly-born baby was standing, waving her tiny trunk, between her mother's legs. She was a small replica of her big mother. At last the mother allowed him to touch her baby; its skin was not too rough and its trunk was constantly on the move, much more alive than the rest of it. The mother was watching all the time and her keeper had to reassure her from time to time. It was a playful baby.

The woman came into the small room deeply distressed. Her son was killed in the war: "I loved him very much and he was my only child; he was well-educated and had the promise of great goodness and talent. He was killed and why should it happen to him and to me? There was real affection, love between us. It was such a cruel thing to happen." She was sobbing and there seemed to be no end to her tears. She took his hand and presently she became quiet enough to listen.

We spend so much money on educating our children; we give them so much care; we become deeply attached to them; they fill our lonely lives; in them we find our fulfilment, our sense of continuity. Why are we educated? To become technological machines? To spend our days in labour and die in some accident or with some painful disease? This is the life our culture, our religion, has brought us. Every wife or mother is crying all over the world; war or disease has claimed the son or the husband. Is love attachment? Is it tears and the agony of loss? Is it loneliness and