way to start the day was to have a swim. He walked down to a stretch of sand he’d noticed when he met the fishermen the day before and plunged in without hesitation. It was his first swim since last summer and it was a beautiful feeling. Even here in the harbour there were fish everywhere. After a long time in the water, Alexander dried off and went to find somewhere for breakfast. He was well aware that he had to watch his money. While finishing high school he held down two jobs, one assisting in his mother’s bakery and the other in a local bicycle repair shop. Together with a substantial gift from his grandparents and parents he had enough money to last him a year, maybe longer if he was careful. His entire family including his two sisters were sympathetic with him not wanting to join the army. The older members of the family knew war well. Nearly everyone in Europe had been affected by the loss of someone close.
He sat down at another of the many harbourside cafés and ordered his breakfast. As he had nothing to read he just watched the world go by. It wasn’t until several hours later that he ran into Polychroni.
‘Here, I have a couple of books for you to read. Both of them are by the author Krishnamurti.’
Alexander excitedly accepted the books. ‘Thanks very much. Who is this author?’
‘Krishnamurti is one of the greatest thinkers of the twentieth century,’ replied Polychroni. ‘His views on life, God, the seeking of pleasure, relationships and so much more have encouraged many others from all corners of the world during his life and since to go within and seek answers to the complexities of life. If you, Alexander, are the type of person to read Hermann Hesse, then you will appreciate the writings of Krishnamurti, I am sure. I loan you these two books in the hope that they will affect you as they did me.’
Opening the first book, Alexander got that same feeling again. He looked Polychroni straight in the eye and said, ‘I can honestly feel that what I am holding here is enormously special. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.’
‘Say no more. Enjoy the reading. Now might I see some of your sketches?’
‘Sure,’ Alexander replied as he reached for his sketch-pad and handed it to Polychroni.
‘These are excellent,’ said Polychroni as he viewed each of the dozen or so drawings. ‘You have a very unique style.’
‘Thank you,’ Alexander replied pleased to get the compliment.
‘Reading and art and travelling the world … an admirable combination.’
With those words Polychroni turned to leave. ‘Yassu Alexander. Enjoy the books.’
‘Yassu, efharisto.’
The days ahead for Alexander were astonishing. Never before in his life had he read such meaningful words. Of course being 19 years of age, it was an extraordinarily influential time of a young man’s life, and reading Krishnamurti opened Alexander’s mind like never before.
Krishnamurti described things that Alexander found both moving and disturbing. Sometimes he understood every word on a page. Other times he became confused, even annoyed at what he was reading, annoyed because his mind seemed so limited. He’d often arrive at dead ends. He walked around the whole island with these life-changing books. He read passages and whole chapters on hilltops, headlands and beaches. He made notes of his favourite passages, some from the books themselves, and others from the notes that Polychroni had placed perhaps as bookmarks of his own favourite passages. ‘Truth is a pathless land. There is no guide, no law, and no tradition which will lead you to it but your own constant and intelligent awareness,’ one read.
In just three days Alexander had devoured the first book loaned to him by Polychroni, titled ‘This Matter of Culture’. Immediately he began the next book. He’d not seen Polychroni for days. He’d now been on the island nearly a week. The realisation of the right book in the right frame of mind and in the right location became even more evident as he read page after page of this great writer’s thoughts. Upon reading the final page, Alexander again experienced that sublime contentment. His mind was racing with ideas and thoughts, but he was exceptionally relaxed.
Almost as if on cue, Polychroni arrived on Alexander’s doorstep less than an hour after Alexander had finished the second book. ‘How are you Alexander?’ he asked as he reached out and offered his hand.
‘I am particularly well,’ was his reply. ‘Have a seat.’
‘Have you enjoyed the books?’
‘I have just this morning finished the second one, and yes I’ve enjoyed them immensely.’
‘What have you learned?’
‘I’ve learned that I must keep reading so as to learn more.’
‘A very wise thing to say. What are your next plans?’
‘I will leave soon and travel to other islands. Has your wife returned yet?’
‘No, her mother has taken a turn for the worse. She feels she must stay in Athens for a while longer.’
‘That’s a shame. I probably won’t get to meet her.’
‘Perhaps next time Alexander. Most people who come to Tinos return one day.’
‘I certainly hope I do. But I think it’s time to move on. The world is a big place and I don’t just want to visit Greece.’
‘Where else would you like to travel?’
‘Having read a little of Krishnamurti, I think I’d like to go to India after here.’
‘But first Santorini, yes?’
‘Paros, then Santorini.’
‘I’ll give you some books to travel with. I’ll drop them by tomorrow. What day might you leave?’
‘Probably the day after tomorrow. There’s a ship leaving that day for Paros.’
‘Endaxi Alexander. Then we must have a farewell dinner tomorrow, yes?’
‘That would be great.’
‘I’ll see you first thing in the morning with the books. What time do you rise?’
‘Usually a little after the sun comes up.’
‘See you then, yassu.’
‘Yassu Polychroni, and thanks again.’
Alexander spent the rest of the day in contemplation. He certainly had plenty to think about. His biggest concern ever since he received his papers to go into the army, was war itself and the absolute insanity of the human species to involve itself in war. He thought long and hard while he was completing his high-school studies as to the best choice for a conscientious objector and in the end decided quite simply to hit the road. He didn’t think he was escaping. He just wanted to find his real self and somehow be of good to his fellow man. Always popular at school, his decision to travel was not looked upon favourably by his fellow students. Yet his closest friend, Thomas, supported him 100 percent. Now in this semi-remote Greek island, Alexander felt his decision was the right one.
Next morning shortly after sunrise Polychroni arrived with several books.
‘What have we got here?’ asked Alexander, keen to find out.
‘A few books this time. I know you’re travelling and books are heavy so what we have here is a very select group. Handing them to Alexander almost ceremoniously and one by one, he said, ‘Firstly a book called The Prophet by Khalil Gibran, then The Republic by Plato, and this one I’m sure you’ll like, Hesse’s Narcissus & Goldmund, George Orwell’s 1984, Dante Alighieri’s The Divine Comedy and finally Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World. It gave me enormous pleasure to put together this handful of titles. Alexander I have literally thousands of good books, some of them quite exceptional as I’m sure you’ll agree after reading this second group. These are your books to keep or to pass on to whoever you think might be a worthy recipient.’
‘Efharisto a thousand times over, Polychroni.