Intelligence Questions🔗

1.23 Let me see those who have come here to fight,

Wishing to please the evil-minded son of Dhritarashtra.

1.24 Sanjaya said:

O descendant of Bharata, being thus addressed by Arjuna,

Krishna then drew up the fine chariot in the midst of both armies.

Arjuna starts out on a challenging note. He says he would like to see all those who had assembled to fight him, in support of the evil minded Duryodhana. Accordingly, Krishna drew up the chariot between the two armies so that Arjuna could have a good look at all those who had gathered.

Arjuna is being called Gudakesha in this verse, the one who has transcended sleep, or the need to sleep. Sleep, here, also refers to the unconscious mind. All our saṁskāras, the embedded memories, our value systems and the beliefs that drive our actions, reside in our unconscious. Arjuna is being referred to here as one who has conquered his saṁskāras, as a result of his total surrender to Krishna.

Krishna has been called Hrishikesha, one who controls the senses. The relationship between Krishna and Arjuna is the highest form of interaction between the Divine and the human.

You see, for one who is caught in the sleep of unconscious living, this world of illusion, māyā, appears utterly real. But the enlightened master has awakened to the level of pure consciousness and knows that this world is just another type of dream. When the disciple is able to completely trust the master's senses that this world is illusion, and not his own senses that give the idea that this world is real and is the source of his happiness, then the surrender is total. Krishna's senses were controlled in the sense He knew that what He experienced through them was not the source of His happiness and therefore He didn't run after sensual pleasures for His fulfillment.

When approaching the Divine or one's master, the ultimate step is one of complete surrender. This surrender happens in three stages. At the first level it is an intellectual surrender - the intellectual acceptance of what is divine, what the master represents and what he means to you. A true seeker reaches this stage when he encounters the real master destined for him. The seeker sees in the master, qualities he has been searching for, and answers to questions that have long arisen in his mind.

At this stage of intellectual surrender, when the disciple meets the master, questions start dying down. It is as if answers come to one's mind even before questions happen.

Questions can never be answered. They are a reflection of one's internal violence, the violence of one's ego, wishing to prove one's control over another person. If we analyze our own questions, we will realise that we ask the questions only to tell the other person that we know something.

Rarely are our questions like that of an innocent child, who asks out of curiosity. A child may ask, 'Why is the sky blue?' An adult would rarely ask such a question, unless he is a wise scientist whose curiosity transcends his knowledge base and he truly seeks to know.

Intellectual surrender to the master replaces questions with doubts. Doubts are not violent like questions. They do not arise from the ego. They arise from a genuine need to know and to understand. Doubt and faith are two sides of the same coin. One cannot develop faith in one's master without having doubts about him. Despite his high level of surrender, one does see Arjuna initially in this state of questioning as well, perhaps as a lesson to us ordinary mortals. Arjuna progresses during Gita from the stage of questioning, to the higher stage of intellectual surrender and doubts. Ultimately, we must move beyond both doubt and faith to a deep trust in the master, recognizing that everything the master expresses is for our liberation.

At the next level, one reaches the state of emotional surrender. From śāstras one moves to stotras. One moves from the head to the heart. It is like coming home when the heart surrenders. The person feels a deep connection with the master. One does not have to make an effort to remember the master. It is impossible to forget Him. His memory brings tears to one's eyes, tears of gratitude that are impossible to hide.

Ramakrishna says so beautifully, 'When thinking of the Divine or the master, if you have tears streaming down your cheeks, be very sure that this is your last birth.'

Emotional surrender leads one close to liberation. It brings you home.

At the final level, there is the surrender of the senses. One truly realizes Hrishikesha and gives up one's distorted sense of reality and embraces the truth of absolute reality that the master and every enlightened sage have expressed. Arjuna is at that level of surrender and through the progression of the Gita, layers of Arjuna's surrender peel off.

Arjuna calls Duryodhana evil minded. This was to paint a contrast of his own state of mind to that of Duryodhana, the Kaurava princes and the Kaurava warriors. When one's mind is filled with greed, lust, envy and fear, there is a single-minded focus on the potential material benefits of these negative and evil emotions. There was no confusion in Duryodhana's mind as to what he should do. His objectives were clear - do away with the Pandava princes and usurp the entire kingdom, that's all.

Duryodhana was like an animal, operating out of instinct. Unlike Arjuna, he was not an intelligent man and did not suffer from doubts and guilt. Animals suffer no guilt. They do what comes to them naturally. They do not consider hunting their prey as something that needs discussion. If they are hungry, they hunt, kill and eat. So it is with Duryodhana. He needs power, and whatever might be the means to achieve that power he will employ without any reservation.

A human being has a level of consciousness higher than that of animals. A human can discriminate between right and wrong and has the free will to act based on such awareness. When a human behaves the way Duryodhana does, he is in the unconscious and unaware state.

With such an unaware and unconscious mind, Duryodhana and his allies did not suffer from any doubts. Mired totally in the darkness of unawareness, these Kaurava warriors followed Duryodhana blindly, unaware that the person they followed was blind himself.

Arjuna, on the other hand, is in turmoil. As Krishna brings the chariot to a stop between the two armies, in a metaphoric sense, He brings Arjuna's mind to a steady state.

Duryodhana is in darkness. He is operating out of the instincts of an animal. His moves are totally unconscious, driven completely by his saṁskāras. In a sense, he is not in control of himself, his saṁskāras control him. So strong is his delusion that the wise counsel of the few who told him that the path he is following is one of self destruction, falls on deaf ears.

Arjuna, on the other hand, is in a twilight zone. Unlike Duryodhana, Arjuna has become aware of his saṁskāras, and is working to free himself from their bondage. However, he is not in the zone of light yet.

The conflict between Arjuna and Duryodhana is the conflict that all humans face within themselves. It is a conflict between their deep unconscious desires driven by their saṁskāras and the potential awareness of their consciousness. Which part wins depends on one's ability to surrender to the superconscious Divine or the master.

As long as one is in darkness, one does not miss light. A person born blind has no idea what sight is, what light is and what he is missing. Whatever he may think he is missing is based on what others tell him, not because of any experience of his own.

However, someone who has been born with sight and subsequently lost it would miss it. He would miss the light. He would regret the darkness where he finds himself. He would be afraid of that darkness, which a person born blind would never fear because that would have always been his experience.

Arjuna is in the state of a person who has had sight and has now lost it. He was an intelligent man, but suddenly wondered whether what he was doing might be wrong and evil. So he is disturbed.

Duryodhana on the other hand has a mind that is always in darkness. He has never experienced true intelligence or awareness. Therefore, words like 'immoral' or 'unethical' would make no sense to him.

Q: You say Gita acquires the authority of the scriptures since it is delivered by Krishna, the perfect incarnation, poornavataar. Other scriptures such as the Veda. were revealed to sages. Is there historical proof that Krishna was God incarnate?

A good question. It is a question that naturally arises in a rational mind. If I were to say that there was some proof or other, the next question will be to show proof that God exists. Only if I can prove that God exists can I prove that Krishna too is God.

Our entire belief in God or its absence is based on some assumptions we make about God. We cast God in our own image. Whatever we do, it is an identity that we create. It is a hallucination, it is a fantasy; it is not an experience.

Since different people have different fantasies and some have fantasies that they themselves are God, there is this continuous argument about whether God exists or not. If some people agree that God exists, then they argue about their God being better, faster and stronger than the other persons' God.

Sometimes I feel it is better that people do not believe in God! There will be far less violence and bloodshed on this planet. The vast majority of wars originated in religious conflicts. Religion is the breeding ground for terrorists today. At least atheists do not wage war. They only argue.

Most of you have only a concept of God. You are sure of your own identity. At least you are able to convincingly articulate about who you think you are. However, when it comes to God, your idea of God is based on your conditioning, belief systems, culture and environment.

This is a powerful unconscious belief. It is difficult to change this belief. For some, God is a bearded old soul with kind eyes. To some there is no form at all and it is sacrilegious to cast Him in any form. To billions of Hindus it is Shiva, Krishna, Vishnu or Kali, with definitive forms and attributes.

Buddha denied God. He went beyond the concept of God. For hundreds of years, the Bodhi tree alone represented Buddha. The ultimate irony is that his followers turned him into God!

For most of you, God is a concept, but concept of ‘you’ is real. To me, I, this form, is unreal, but God is reality! Every movement I make is sanctioned by that ultimate energy. So I have no doubt in telling you that God exists and that Krishna is indeed God. I have seen Him, so I know.

I invite every one of you to come and experience God with me. It is a promise and not easily given.

I have come down with the technology and the compassion and the intelligence, the sūtras, the stotras and the shāstras to make what I said happen for you. It is a highly refined process and I know that it is successful.

God is not the prerogative of any one religion. You do not have to be part of one religious belief or another to be a believer. God belongs to all, by whatever name you wish to call Him and in whatever form you wish to see Him. Whether you are Christian, Muslim, Hindu or Buddhist, the experiencing of God will make you a better Christian, a better Muslim, a better Hindu or a better Buddhist. None of you will be converted from your own religion into another.

The concept of God should not be about conversion. Only those who are insecure in their own beliefs about God would want to force their beliefs on others. No confident religion would want to change someone else's belief system.

A while ago I met with a preacher in Mumbai, India in an inter-religious conference. I told him proudly about the programs that we run and how it attracts hundreds of people. He listened politely and said that the programs that he runs usually have thousands attending them! Later during the conference, he became quite friendly and confided in me a number of his problems. I gave him some advice and techniques. They seem to have worked because he sought me out towards the end of the conference and thanked me. One of the problems he expressed was that he was himself unsure of what he preached to others. I had asked him in surprise, 'How do you then manage to convince them if you yourself are not sure?' His answer was revealing. He said, 'When so many people come to listen to me and pay respect to me, I become convinced that whatever I am saying must be right!'

It is quite easy to brainwash yourself or be brainwashed and still continuously carry the guilt of not having understood.

God cannot be proved by logic. He transcends logic. You need to lose your mind to find Him!

Therefore, any amount of rational arguments will only warm up the environment.

A small story:

There was once an atheist and a believer in a village who were constantly fighting. The villagers got fed up and told them to sort it out between themselves, once and for all.

The two argued for days. At the end of the argument the atheist declared that he was convinced that there indeed was a God.

Before the villagers recovered from this shock, the believer stood up and said, 'No, I don't agree. I am now fully convinced that there is no God!'

You asked whether Krishna was real. Yes, He was and is! The Bhagavad Gita did not get scriptural authority on the basis of any proof that Krishna was God. Gita was acknowledged as a scripture of the highest order because of the indisputable truths that it laid out. It did not matter who delivered the dialogue. Anyone who did that delivered it from Krishna consciousness. Therefore, He was Krishna!

A fervent group of Krishna devotees once cornered me after a discourse and heatedly asked me, ‘You delivered such a profound discourse about on Gita. However, we understand that you worship Shiva! How is this possible? You are committing sacrilege.’

I said to them that Krishna and Shiva are the same Energies, as are other enlightened masters and incarnations.

They were not satisfied. They said I should desist from worshipping Shiva.

I asked them, ‘Have you read the Gita?’

They said, ‘No, what is it?’

I told them that after the Mahabharata war, when Arjuna was alone with Krishna, he asked Krishna, ‘Krishna, I have forgotten what you advised me during the war. Can you tell me again, please?’

Krishna said, ‘Oh, you forgot Arjuna! I too have forgotten!’

Arjuna asked in surprise, ‘Krishna, how is that possible? You are the greatest master of them all. How can you forget the truths you yourself have established?’

Krishna says simply, ‘While delivering the Gita, I was in the ultimate consciousness. I was Parabrahma Krishna, God incarnate. Now, I am Vasudeva Krishna, the human son of Vasudeva, and your friend. So, I do not remember it now.’

What Krishna once again repeated to satisfy Arjuna is what is called ‘Anu Gita’.

I told them that at the level of the Parabrahman, the ultimate consciousness that we term as Shiva, Krishna, Buddha and so on, are all the same energy.

One of the elders in the group told me, ‘Sir, we thought you were such a young person and therefore probably misguided. However, now you have taught us the truth!’

There is no need for historical proof that Krishna existed or that Gita is considered a scripture because Krishna was God. Gita is Krishna consciousness. Any one who delivered Gita was Krishna!

# Arjuna's Dilemma

1.25 to 1.30

In the presence of Bhishma, Drona and other rulers of the world,

Hrishikesha said, Partha, behold all the Kurus who are assembled here.

There Arjuna could see within the armies of both parties,

His elders, grandfathers, teachers, maternal uncles, cousins, sons, grandsons

And friends, as well as his fathers-in-law and well-wishers.

When Arjuna, the son of Kunti, saw all these friends and relatives present there,

He was overwhelmed with deep pity and said:

Krishna, seeing my friends and relatives present before me, eager to wage war,

I feel my limbs trembling, my mouth drying, and my hair standing on end.

My bow, Gandiva, slips from my hands, and my skin burns.

I am unable to stand here any longer.

I am forgetting myself, and my mind reels.

I foresee only evil omens, O killer of the Kesi demon.

Krishna parked the chariot between the two armies and said to Arjuna, ‘Here are the people you wished to see.’

There, in front of Arjuna are his friends and relatives. Krishna pulls no punches here. Arjuna wanted to see those who were about to fight him and die, and Krishna, with no mercy at all, showed him that these were Arjuna’s near and dear ones.

Krishna Himself was related to Arjuna. Kunti, Arjuna’s mother, also known as Pritha, was Krishna’s aunt, sister of Krishna’s father Vasudeva; so He addresses Arjuna here as Partha, the son of Pritha, emphasizing their relationship. Krishna is also referred to in Gita as Parthasarathy, the charioteer of Partha, Arjuna.

Assembled in front of Arjuna were compatriots of his father Pandu, grandfathers and great grandfathers such as Bhishma, his own teachers such as Drona and Kripa, uncles such as Shakuni, brothers and cousins as all the Kaurava princes were, friends and well wishers. He knew every one of them. At one time or another, each of them had been an object of affection and respect to Arjuna. Now, they were part of this enemy army.

The theme of Gita is the story of Arjuna’s dilemma and its resolution by Krishna.

The expression of Arjuna’s dilemma starts here.

As a warrior, as a kṣatriya, Arjuna was used to killing in battle. He was no stranger to death and violence. As long as his mind accepted the fact that those who faced him were his enemies and therefore deserved to be killed, Arjuna had no difficulty in carrying out the execution.

However, those whom he saw in front of him now were not enemies as he had imagined, as his mind would expect, but instead people with whom he had shared common bonds over the years. These were people whom he had regarded with love and affection. They were his relatives, people who actually were like his father, grandfathers, uncles, brothers, sons and grandsons, tied to him with bonds of blood. Many others were his friends with whom he had previously enjoyed bonds of loyalty and kinship.

Arjuna’s dilemma was not one of nonviolence, ahiṁsā. As a warrior, as a kṣatriya, this word had no place in his dictionary. His dilemma was one of violence, violence born out of his ego, his identity. He could kill people he did not identify with, but he could not bear to kill those whom he could relate with himself in one way or another. The bonds of family were far stronger than Arjuna had imagined. The bonds of family that were rooted in his ego, and to cut these bonds was to destroy himself. This was Arjuna’s dilemma.

The great war of Mahabharata was not merely about the fight between the hundred Kaurava princes and the five Pandava princes. It was not just about good and evil and the fight between the two. It was the war waged within the mind of man, nara, represented here by Arjuna, while coming to terms with what was perceived as good and what was perceived as evil.

What follows now is a bunch of fantasies that Arjuna’s mind weaves in an attempt to justify his dilemma. It is what the human mind conjures up time and again as its projection of the unconscious saṃskāras, trying to justify its actions.

Sanjaya says that Arjuna was overwhelmed with pity. Some translate this as compassion.

Compassion, true compassion, which is the hallmark of an enlightened being, is non-discriminatory; it does not differentiate. To the truly compassionate person, the whole world, of both living and nonliving beings, is an extension of his own self. Anything that hurts any object around such a person would hurt him, and he too would feel the pain.

However, what Arjuna experienced here upon seeing his kinsmen was not of that noble kind. Arjuna’s emotion was discriminatory. He felt pity only because they were his kinsmen, only because he identified with them.

As I mentioned earlier this was not compassion born out of ahiṃsā, nonviolence, but pity born out of hiṃsā, violence.

Arjuna’s emotions arose from his ego.

True compassion arises from a state of absence of ego, from a state of no-mind and no-thought, where the feelings of ‘I’ and ‘mine’ have disappeared. True compassion is a state of bliss, one of true surrender to the Universe.

When the individual self merges with the universal Self, true compassion happens out of an awareness of the cosmic consciousness and the awareness that one is part of that Brahman.

Arjuna’s pity arose out of fear, fear of losing his identity, his ego. Arjuna was afraid, mortally afraid. He claimed that his throat was parched, his hair was standing on edge and his divine bow was slipping from his sweaty hands. If one did not know Arjuna better, one would have considered him a coward.

Arjuna was no coward. He had no fear for his own physical safety. He was not concerned that he might be injured or that he might die. As a warrior of warriors, these feelings were beneath him. But, Arjuna was afraid. He was afraid of breaking social and ethical laws. His values and beliefs, his subconscious memories, his saṁskāras, told him that what he was doing was wrong and unacceptable. So powerful was this feeling that he was reeling, quivering, dazed and unable to think or function.

Can something like this really happen? Can a hero lose his composure and exhibit the physical symptoms of a frightened coward? A true hero to whom death is play, who is trained from childhood by the greatest of masters not only in the control of his body but of his mind as well?

Arjuna’s situation shows how the mind can play games with the best of us, how the saṁskāras can take over the mind in so powerful a manner without our being even aware of it.

Arjuna was frightened that he would be held responsible for the death of his kinsmen, people who were father, grandfather and other such important figures to him. He was afraid that even if others did not blame him, he would suffer the guilt and regret for his actions for the rest of his life.

So great was this fear of potential guilt, that it drove Arjuna into behaving like a coward. All he could foresee was disaster and evil; disaster to him and his clan; disaster to his reputation, and material destruction all around him.

At another, far deeper level, Arjuna was terrified of his own destruction. The moment one starts identifying with kinsmen, family, friends and relatives, it is a material identification. It is an identification born out of possession. This identification arises from one’s ego, from the feeling of ‘I’ and ‘mine’.

Possession is born of attachment, and leads to attachment as well. There can be no feeling of possessing something unless one is attached to it.

People speak of attachment, liking and love. All these are born out of and valid only as long as a sense of possession exists. The moment the object of love turns around and displays independence and unwillingness to be possessed, the liking and the love disappear.

Possession arises out of our survival need, from our mūlādhāra cakra, an energy center located at the base of the spine. It is a primal feeling that yokes us to mother Earth. Out of the need for possession, feelings of lust, greed and anger arise. Often what one cannot possess, one wants to destroy.

‘What I cannot have, let no one have,’ we often feel.

Possession leads to violence.

It is also the deep-rooted desire for possessions, the feeling of 'mine', that gives rise to your identity 'I'. Please understand that the need to possess does not stem from your identity. It is the other way around. 'Mine' leads to 'I', not 'I' to 'mine'. This is why you cannot eliminate your identity till you renounce your attachment to all your desires and possessions. You need to get rid of the 'mine' first. Only then the 'I' disappears.

Arjuna is in this mood and frame of mind. It strikes him at this eleventh hour, at the moment of waging war, that what he is about to destroy are his own possessions. These are his own kinsmen and part of his own identity. If he were to destroy them he will be destroying a part of his own self. By destroying those who are akin to his father, grandfather, son, brother, uncle and friend, he is effectively destroying his own mind-body system.

It is true that when someone dear to us dies, a part of our mind-body system dies with them. Arjuna was aware of this. He knew that the destruction of so many of his near and dear ones, his kinsmen, would take a massive toll on him. It would be akin to committing suicide.

Arjuna's dilemma was an existential one. What is the point of eliminating others, if it results in one's own elimination? It is a dilemma born out of partial understanding, a peek into the truth of collective consciousness. If Arjuna were to be as unaware as Duryodhana, this doubt would have never entered his mind. Were he enlightened as Krishna was, the answer would have been obvious. Arjuna was in between, hence his dilemma.

Why should I destroy myself? What for? These are the questions that naturally follow this line of reasoning. Arjuna was far wiser than many modern philosophers in posing this as a doubt, without venturing any answers.

Many philosophers have concluded that there is no meaning to life when they encountered similar doubts. Since they did not have the humility of Arjuna, or the guidance of a Krishna, they provided their own answers created out of logical reasoning. Their reasoning had no experiential backing. Hence, they were wrong.

Arjuna is undergoing a process of transformation. He started off in this war with the basic assumptions of the kṣatriya codes of conduct. When challenged, a kṣatriya must fight; that is his code of honor, as with the samurai. Arjuna had no compunctions in doing this as he was brought up in this belief system.

However, the problem was that Arjuna was a thinking man. Unlike Duryodhana, or his own brother Bhima, he was not a thoughtless man. This ability to think, to be aware, was what had got him into trouble now. Doubts assailed him. ‘Am I really doing the right thing? Am I not destroying myself and all that I stand for when I wage this war against my own people?’

Arjuna had become a seeker of Truth. He was no longer satisfied with what he had imbibed all these years - the śāstras, the stotras and the sūtras. He wished to go beyond. He questioned them, as he had doubts. He was in a dilemma. Arjuna Vishāda Yoga, is the name given to this first chapter of Gita. Vishāda can mean many things in Sanskrit - grief, sorrow, despondency, despair, depression, dilemma and such. Here what we see is the dilemma that Arjuna was in, not knowing whether what he had been taught all his life, and what he had believed to be true, was really true after all.

The transformation that Krishna leads him to over the eighteen chapters is the revelation of truth to Arjuna, and to all humanity.

Krishna is referred to by many names thus far. Some of them and their meanings are included here.

The word ‘Krishna’ itself refers to His dark blue color, the color of the sky, and as infinite as the sky. It also means existence and bliss, sat chit ānanda and ‘who provides salvation to those who surrender to Him.’

Keshava, the name by which he is called in the above verses, refers to the fact that He destroyed the demon Keshin. It also refers to his beautiful hair. The embodiment in Him of the holy trinity of the Hindu tradition (the Sanskrit words K referring to Brahma, A to Vishnu and Īśā to Shiva) is another meaning of this name.

Govinda is a combination of go referring to all living beings and vinda which means knower, Krishna being the ultimate knower of the mind, body and being of all living creatures.

Q: Swamiji, You explained that Duryodhana acted out of blindness and Arjuna from partial awareness. Yet, if Arjuna were to enter the fight and kill his kinsmen, there would be no difference between him and Duryodhana. You yourself pointed out that rights and wrongs are merely our conditioning. Then in what manner is Arjuna better than Duryodhana?

Here is an excellent question. It is correct that Duryodhana was like a blind man and therefore rights and wrongs had no meaning to him. He is at one end of a spectrum in his total unawareness. He is in the same state as an enlightened being in not distinguishing between right and wrong. But, here the similarity ends.

Arjuna, on the other hand, is an average human being, conditioned to accept the reality of right and wrong as taught to him by society. Moreover, he has deep faith in the code of the kṣatriya, which commits him to fair play, justice and so on.

We differentiate between two individuals based on our own conditioning and judgment. Each individual is unique. No human being and no being, living or inanimate, can be evil. Existence, which is compassion itself, cannot produce something that is out of its character.

When we are born and as young children, we are able to see people without differentiation. If you watch a very young child, you will see that the child will go towards anyone, whether that person is holding a gun or a candy. It is immaterial to the child, as the child operates from curiosity. The child makes no judgment.

However, as the child grows up, it is 'educated'; educated by its elders that certain things are right or wrong, safe or dangerous. The child may be taught that people who come from a background similar to its own parents are good people, and people who come from a dissimilar background are bad people. A child does not differentiate; an adult differentiates and excludes.

Good and bad, right and wrong, likes and dislikes, love and hatred arise out of differentiation. All these are adult qualities. All these are qualities that each generation imbibes from another with the assumed notion that it helps that generation and culture be safe.

Yet, crime records show that people known to the victim commit the vast majority of rapes, murders and other violent crimes. That is why the first suspect in the murder of a person is always the spouse. This is reality. Strangers are much less likely to harm you. Your own people do. Yet xenophobia, fear of strangers, is built into the human psyche.

Part of this xenophobia arises from our animal roots and tribal roots. Animals and tribes exist by grouping together for survival. Their very survival, the survival of the fittest, depends on how well they resist intruders. Ironically, this behavior has been scientifically shown to be dangerous to the long-term survival of any race. Inbreeding decreases the chances of survival. It does not enhance it.

In this day and age, where the entire globe is so well connected, no man can live as an island. No group or race or country can isolate itself from others and expect to survive and thrive. We have to learn to live with one another. Cooperation and interdependence are the factors best suited to survival and growth in this age, not violent competition and conflicts.

Studies at the cellular level have shown that cells like to link to other cells; they do not isolate themselves. Nature's way of evolution was not by competition and survival of the fittest, but by coming together and sharing. Darwin was wrong in that part of his theory that states that a species survives through conflict and elimination.

Whatever we apply as differentiated standards to those whom we do not know, we also apply to those whom we know. We develop a common standard based on our experience, and those who abide by it are good and those who do not are bad. This is developing a base of the lowest common denominator. Anything that is developed as averages or lowest common denominators will contribute to degeneration and not enhancement.

If you keep your head in boiling water and your feet on ice, your average temperature may be near the normal temperature for a human being, but then you won't be alive for long. We have been taught to think in terms of averages in everything. The average family size is 4.2. Does this make any sense in real terms? No!

Our unconscious is packed with emotion-filled memories, saṁskāras, which drive our decisions and actions and cause us to create separation and isolation. We would be shocked to know that there is no rationality to these decisions. Neither our senses nor our mind are dependable. Their judgments are questionable.

You may say, 'That is all that we have. What else can we use?'

That is not all that we have. At the highest level of expression, we are pure intelligence. Intuition is available to us at every moment, but we have not been taught this and so we never draw upon this innate intelligence. We choose to rely upon our senses and our mind. The pleasures that our senses seem to provide us from the external world are our sustenance, and we are so addicted to them that we do not turn our attention inwards. We don't know how to, so much so that the prospect of just sitting with ourselves is actually frightening!

Your fundamental nature is one of awareness and intelligence. That is your core, your very center. But your mind is attracted through your senses towards peripheral pleasures, which are transient. From time to time, you realize that the periphery is not your real home and you move towards the center. The periphery attracts you again. So, you oscillate. You are never at the center for long.

You become eccentric!

Duryodhana operates near the periphery, coming very rarely towards his center. He is controlled by his senses and his mind. He has no control over them. Arjuna, on the other hand, tries to move to the center as much as he can. He tries to control his mind and his senses. This is the difference between the two. Who is better and who is worse? Who can pass any judgment?

If you were to ask for my advice, of course I shall say, be like Arjuna. Arjuna is a seeker. He is a disciple and he is working to drop his ego. But until he reaches the center, there is no fundamental difference between him and Duryodhana.

Like Arjuna and Duryodhana, every one of you is maintaining the same distance from enlightenment. Attending a few discourses, reading many books and even understanding some of them intellectually is not the experience of enlightenment itself. Both these warriors are in darkness, but just to different degrees, that's all.

Existence does not differentiate between saints and sinners as we classify them. Existence does not care. When you turn your attention inward and you are at the center of your being, you become Existence; you become enlightened. I always say that enlightenment is your natural state; it is not something that you need to work towards. You just have to be, that is all.

You may be Duryodhana or Arjuna. It makes no difference!

I have said time and again: I needed to experiment with ten thousand keys before I could find the right key to open the door to the truth. I now offer you that key so that you do not need to struggle.

It does make some difference in the path when you are an Arjuna. Not because you are closer to the center instead of the periphery, but because you are guided by a master. The redeeming factor for Arjuna was that Krishna was his master. Nothing else. It is Arjuna's surrender to Krishna that makes the difference. Nothing else.

Do not try to judge Arjuna and Duryodhana. There is nothing to differentiate and judge. But act like Arjuna, if you can. Become a seeker. Seek a master. Your path will be easier. You can learn from life or you can learn from the master. With the master it is faster, easier and more compassionate for you.

# Rigors Of Conditioning

1.31 I do not see how any good can come from killing my own kinsmen in this battle, nor can I, my dear Krishna, desire any subsequent victory, kingdom or happiness.

1.32 What use is kingdom, pleasures or even life, Krishna?

1.33 Those for whose sake we seek kingdoms, enjoyment and happiness

Now are arrayed in this battlefield ready to lose their lives and wealth.

1.34, 1.35 Even if I am about to be slain by my teachers, fathers, sons, grandfathers, maternal uncles, fathers-in-law, grandsons, brothers-in-law and all relatives,

I would not like to slay them even to gain control of all three worlds.

Why then, Madhusudana, would I wish to kill them for control of this earth?

Arjuna now started developing his theme in detail. He started expressing his doubts with clarity. One may ask, ‘How can such doubts be clear?’

Doubts need to be clear if they are to be resolved. Unclear doubts lead only to more confusion. Unintelligent beings have unclear doubts. Arjuna’s doubts were precise.

How could he seek happiness through destruction of his kinsmen, he asked. How could any good come out of this action? How could he desire power, possessions and pleasures through such action? And if he did gain those things as a result of killing his family, of what use would such a life be to him?

Though Arjuna was in a dilemma, it was a dilemma born out of intelligence, not out of ignorance.

Arjuna had been taught all his life to seek power, possessions and pleasures, and he had done it. Up to this point, he had not come across a single situation where the cost of acquiring these had seemed to be greater than the accruing profit, the resulting enjoyment. Perhaps he had never bothered to evaluate the cost and benefits.

For the first time in his life, he has encountered a situation that forces him to evaluate his options.

‘Do I forge ahead and destroy what is dear to me so that I get more power and possibly more pleasure?’ he asks. What a fundamental question, one that each one of us should ask ourselves. How often do we go behind activities that promise us more material benefits, even though we know that these may in some way damage our life or the lives of those we care about?

Life becomes mechanical for most people. Rather than live in the spontaneity of the present, our past is vividly remembered and it is used to forget the present. If the past event was one of sorrow, we try to avoid it in future. If the past event was joyful, we try to replicate it. We try to avoid regret and guilt in the future, and embrace happiness. The problem is that life is not so predictable. Yet we try to control it as if it is. The bigger problem is that we are so conditioned by our behavioral patterns, that in spite of all precautions, we keep making the same mistakes. Our saṁskāras, our unconscious, ensures this.

Very few of us stop to think and question the purpose and value of our actions. With few exceptions, we are taught how to live and what to do with our lives, first by our families and later by society. We do our best to seek fulfillment and make a contribution in the way that we have learned. Most often we are so busy just trying to keep up with our personal and professional commitments, that it never occurs to us to ask ourselves whether we are truly fulfilled. Our lives become a constant series of ‘What next, what next?’

For example, as youngsters we think, ‘As soon as I get out of my parents’ house and into college, I will be happy.’ When that is accomplished, our minds immediately rush to the next goal, ‘As soon as I graduate and get a good job I will be happy.’ Once that is done, it is marriage, home, children, vacation. On and on it goes, until we have all the things that we want but not the sustained satisfaction for which we worked. Invariably we realise only in our old age that something is wrong in the way we worked.

It takes a lot of courage to stop and question our lives, our actions and society's plan for us. It takes inner fortitude to say to the world, 'Stop, I want to get off; I want to retire seek true inner bliss!'

Sanyāsis are courageous people. They are not cowards who walk away from society because they can't succeed by society's rules. No! It takes tremendous courage and insight to recognize the transitory nature of life and its limited offer of happiness, to say 'I want something more.' It takes enormous courage to escape from the materialism of the world with an attitude of seeking one's true purpose in life.

'What is the purpose of my life, Krishna?' wailed Arjuna.

Arjuna is now questioning himself, his training and his purpose when faced with the task of fighting against his kinsmen. The scene from his chariot has taken him off balance! In his heart he knows that what he is about to do is correct. All of his training as a kṣatriya confirms this as well. But when faced with the reality of actually killing those who have been near and dear to him, he loses his will. Why?

Arjuna is a courageous man. Only a courageous person will have the confidence to open himself up so transparently and expose his innermost fears and seek help. Arjuna was not depressed. He was not frustrated. He was not afraid in the obvious sense.

Arjuna was confused, but in a way that was different from what we see in Duryodhana's behavior. Based upon all his training and society's guidance, Arjuna could certainly differentiate between actions that are right or wrong. His sudden confusion grew out of a concern that what he had been taught throughout his life, the very foundation upon which he stood, might be wrong. 'Could this be possible?' he asked himself for the first time.

Fortunately for Arjuna, his charioteer is none other than Krishna Himself, Lord of all beings and knower of all! Only He can see what is at the heart of Arjuna's grief. Only He could provide answers to Arjuna's doubts and the right solutions to Arjuna's dilemma.

Arjuna argues that the reason one would fight to gain power and wealth was for the sake of one's near and dear ones. However, these people who were now gathered in battle, ready to lay down their lives and lose their possessions, were the ones with whom Arjuna should fight! As we saw, they were his teachers, fathers, grandfathers, uncles, fathers-in-law, grandsons, brothers-in-law and other relatives.

Arjuna declared that even if they killed him, he would not consider killing them at any cost, even if he gained the possession of all three worlds as his reward. He then questioned Krishna rhetorically, that if he would not kill them for all the riches of the three worlds, why would he destroy them for the sake of earth, this one world, alone?

When asking this question, Arjuna calls Krishna Madhusudana, which means the slayer of the demon Madhu. Arjuna implies that Krishna may be a destroyer, but Arjuna himself would not like to be one like Him.

Arjuna's dilemma had now become deeper and more complicated. He had now got into justifications as to why he should not kill, justifications that have no merit from the standpoint of a warrior.

Arjuna's initial dilemma was with his value system. As a kṣatriya he was bound by duty to destroy enemies and acquire material possessions. The dilemma was created by the fact that his enemies were his kinsmen, teachers and friends. To any observer, his dilemma had validity. But now, he tries to convince himself through further arguments that actually lack strength.

Arjuna's mind was playing tricks on him. This is a common game we all play with ourselves. When the stakes are high in any competitive environment, when they are too high for comfort, we play this game. We fantasize about rewards far greater than what could possibly materialize. The more unrealistic and unlikely the reward, the easier it is to refuse it.

Once we convince ourselves of this imaginary sacrifice of imaginary rewards, we find it easier to walk away from the more realistic and tougher challenges that we have at hand. Arjuna is playing the same game.

Arjuna said he would not kill even if he were to be killed. This is just a lie that his mind is imposing on him. It is his own loss of identity that is bothering him, the loss of identity that would result from the destruction of his lineage.

Arjuna then went on to say that he would not consider killing his kinsmen and teachers, even if he were offered all the three worlds of this universe in return; even such a great reward would not attract him. Why then, he queries, would the reward of just this planet earth, be attractive to him?

Who was offering Arjuna the three worlds anyway? The notion was a pure figment of his overexcited imagination. If Krishna had turned around and offered Arjuna the control of the universe, Arjuna's dilemma would have actually become

far worse! However, posing it as a symbolic question as Arjuna did, made him look noble.

There is a folk tale in Tamil, in which a jackal offers a crow fruits to eat while trying to entice the bird and capture it. The crow is interested in the fruit but it is smart also! It refuses the offer and consoles itself by saying that the fruit was probably sour, otherwise the jackal itself would have eaten it. ‘Oh, oh, this fruit is sour,’ the bird says, ‘I don’t want it.’

Arjuna’s tale is similar. He is consoling himself with the idea that the rewards of winning this battle are too small and that even if he were to be offered control of the universe, he would not be tempted. It is a safe position he is taking, since the chances of his being offered the control of the universe are infinitely small. What matters is that it calms his bruised mind and keeps the focus off the real source of his fear.

Time and again, people play this game with themselves and others. It starts when we cannot face the truth and therefore cannot tell the truth. Whatever be the reason, the truth is dangerous, both to the one who speaks it and to the one who hears it. So we camouflage the truth in a more acceptable presentation. Then we are caught in denial.

Arjuna was afraid to lose his own identity through the loss of so many well-established relationships in his life. However, that truth would hurt him and he was not prepared to see it. Perhaps he was not even aware of this truth. It might have been well hidden in his unconscious. For the majority of us, our identity lies in the roles we play, the responsibilities that we have, the worrying we do and the acceptance that we receive from others. Without these possessions and relationships to form the foundation of our personalities, without the foundation of ‘mine’, we feel lost and have no ‘I’. Like us, Arjuna found it better to invent a host of other reasons to avoid facing the truth.

A senior government official, a devotee, once called me in the middle of the night, desperate to see me. ‘I must see you now,’ he said. ‘I am desperate. I am so bogged down by problems and so depressed, I may even commit suicide. It is a matter of life and death. I need to see you immediately.’

I talked to him for a while and managed to calm him down and suggested that he could come the next morning and that I would see him.

‘No, no,’ he replied. ‘I cannot come tomorrow morning. I have urgent meetings that I cannot miss. I will come some other time.’ A few minutes earlier, seeing me immediately was a matter of life and death to him. Now, his meeting in the morning was more critical!

We create illusions in our mind about the situations we face, about how critical they are to our existence. Then we create fantasies in our minds about what is going to happen to us, be it an imagined good result or a difficulty. We do everything except face the present moment with awareness.

As we will see later, facing the present moment is precisely what Krishna forces Arjuna to do. When Arjuna is able to surrender to Krishna's teachings and bring his attention to the present, his doubts and illusions dissolve. Arjuna then understands what he needs to do and goes about doing it with purpose and full commitment.

Q: Arjuna was a successful warrior and yet he goes into depression. At least he had a master who could help him. What can others do?

There are two kinds of depression. One is 'depression of failure'. Time and again you try for some end result and you fail. You then get frustrated. After a while, depending upon how persevering you are, you may keep trying and succeed or give up and move to another objective.

This is why patience and perseverance are considered great virtues. Each attempt is a new attempt and not linked to what happened before. This is what I call 'unclutching'. So long as you do not relate a past failure to your current failure, you can continue to be energized and keep trying and ultimately be successful.

Most of what you do is like tossing a coin! The end result is one of probability. The more you attempt, the more the chance of your success.

In the so-called less developed countries, more people suffer from this depression of failure. They would like to acquire more material possessions, and until they acquire these they are constantly striving and sometimes become depressed.

The other kind of depression is 'depression of success'. This is common in developed societies. Here, you are successful in acquiring all that you have dreamed of, but then start wondering what the purpose of all these acquisitions is!

Wealth, relationships, pleasures and all these external acquisitions create more wants. Enjoyment of what one acquires is no longer the purpose. Acquisition itself becomes the purpose. This can never end. It becomes an addiction. The more one acquires, the less one derives pleasure.

People ask me time and again in the USA, 'Swami, we have everything that we ever wanted, far more than we ever dreamt as possible. Yet we are dissatisfied. We have all that we always wanted, but now we do not understand why we wanted them. There is no joy.'

Of course, there is no joy. You think joy comes from outside. So, you change cars every year, houses every three years and spouses every five years! No, joy comes from within.

That is why in the vedic culture there was no word for divorce! The concept itself was unknown! In those days, you never attempted to change your spouse; you worked on changing your perception and personality instead. The external change will never bring you happiness; the inner transformation always will.

How do people cope with depression of success?

The first is through addiction. One keeps acquiring without even knowing why. This is the classic example of decreasing value with increasing inputs. It never works. Whether it is alcohol, drugs, sex or wealth, more and more delivers less and less. In fact, it delivers more and more suffering, that's all.

Depression of success can lead to suicide, either just killing oneself or slowly dying within, and becoming the living dead. Addiction is an active way of inviting suffering, and depression is a passive way of inviting suffering. Both methods are dead ends. The third method, which only a few intelligent people choose, is that of meditation. You have to go into the depression to get to know it, to analyze it and come out of it. These are the three ways to cope with depression. You have to choose your own path.

You may ask, 'But is it not difficult?'

It is not!

Just change the programming in your mind! Instead of always saying it is difficult, start saying it is easy! It is you who creates the word 'difficult' in your mind. In the beginning your mind will not accept that it is easy. It will resist. But if you go on telling yourself that it is easy, you will find that you have become more positive in your whole outlook.

Ramana Maharshi, an enlightened master from India, sings so beautifully:

‘So easy is this Self-Realization, so easy this enlightenment!’

His followers ask, ‘How can you say it is easy?’ He explains that we need to work hard to achieve anything in the outer world, to have a good lifestyle. But we only have to relax and be quiet to achieve in the inner world, and that is enough!

You have been trained to achieve many difficult things but you forget the simple thing. All you need to do is look into yourself. You cannot say that you are so poor that you cannot even address your mind with good words, or speak kindly to yourself. Of course, you can!

You do not need complicated techniques to achieve this. People talk of ‘stillness of mind’, ‘prāṇāyāma’, and all such big words. These create more complications.

Meditation is simple. Now, as you are sitting, just become aware of your boundary. Not going where you are not is meditation. Being where you are is meditation. Usually when you are here, you are thinking of your home. When you are at home, you are thinking of the evening discourse. At the discourse you are thinking of when you can return home. At home you are thinking of the next day’s office work. At the office you are planning an evening outing. When outside, you start thinking of home again. We are never where our body is. So being in the present, living with awareness and consciousness is what I call meditation.

We are always disturbed by too many words and ideas. Just relax and be where you are. Feel the ground, feel how you are sitting, and feel all the parts of your body. Just experience the present. By just being totally in the body you will start experiencing life. Because this idea is so simple, it is difficult to understand.

There is a Zen koan about the Truth. It says:

It is too clear and so it is hard to see.

A dunce once searched for a fire with a lighted lantern.

Had he known what fire was,

He could have cooked his rice much sooner!

The truth is too simple and is right there for us to see, but we make it so complicated!

All our life we are used to moving out of our body in search of pleasures and so it is difficult to come out of it.

We are used to living either thinking about or regretting whatever we have done in the past, or in the future speculating about what can happen. If you are used to living in the past and in the future, don’t be bothered by it.

Here is a logical example: when you have a headache, you try to come out of it. You take medicine to come out of it because painlessness is your nature and you want to come back to that state quickly. In the same way, if worrying and thinking about the past and the future is your nature, then why do you want to come out of it? You want to come out because it is not your nature.

Why then are you associating yourself with the worrying? Associate yourself with living in the present.

You have come from France and settled in the USA for the past 30 years. As you no longer practice speaking French, you have forgotten how to speak French. Suddenly if somebody starts speaking in French, will you not remember? In the same way, bliss and living in the present is a language closer to you than your mother tongue. Up to the age of seven, you were in that state. So start reclaiming that forgotten language, that forgotten state.

Moving into the present allows you to disassociate from guilt, regret, greed and speculation. It will allow you to disengage from past happenings that you project into the future. These are the projections that invite suffering. You understand that success and failure are both in your mind. You learn to perform without attachment to the end result.

You then walk out of any possibility of depression!