Planet Earth Is A Battlefield🔗

1.1 Dhritarashtra said:

Sanjaya,

What are my sons and the sons of Pandu up to,

On this holy land of Kurukshetra, eager and raring to fight?

1.2 Sanjaya said:

Sire,

Seeing the Pandava army in full formation,

Duryodhana approaches his teacher, saying:

1.3 My teacher,

Look at the great army of the sons of Pandu,

Expertly arranged by your intelligent disciple, the son of Drupada,

1.4, 1.5, 1.6 Many are the heroes and mighty archers equal to Bhima and Arjuna in war;

Yuyudhana, Viraata, and the great warrior Drupada, Drishtaketu,

Chekitaana, and the heroic king of Kaashi;

Also Purujit, Kuntibhoja, and the great man Shaibya; the valiant Yudhaamanyu,

The formidable Uttamauja, the son of Subhadra, and the sons of Draupadi, all great warriors.

1.7 Best of the Brahmanas, let me tell you about the powerful leaders who command my army, so that you know.

It is significant that the opening statement of this great scripture was from a blind man. He had not only lost the power of sight, but also the power of insight, the wisdom to distinguish between right and wrong.

Dhritarashtra’s brother Pandu handed over to him his throne, as well as the care of his five children. From the point of view of any righteous person, these five Pandava princes were Dhritarashtra’s responsibility as well. However, the separation in Dhritarashtra’s mind was clear when he said, ‘My sons and the sons of Pandu.’

‘What are they doing?’ he asked Sanjaya plaintively, ‘These sons of mine, the hundred Kaurava princes, and those five sons of Pandu, the Pandava princes?’ He claimed no ownership of the Pandava princes and no responsibility or concern for their welfare. His concern was for his own sons.

Dhritarashtra’s attachment to his sons, especially the crown prince Duryodhana, had blinded his powers of reasoning. Whatever his son did received his endorsement. From early adolescence, Duryodhana had been plotting to kill his Pandava cousins. Although Dhritarashtra pretended ignorance of his son’s evil deeds, he was aware of what his son was up to.

Even when Duryodhana and his brother Dusshassana went to the extreme extent of disgracing Draupadi, the wife of the Pandava princes, by trying to disrobe her in public in his court, Dhritarashtra seemed powerless to act. When Duryodhana finally refused to give the Pandavas even a needlepoint of land, still Dhritarashtra kept quiet, ensuring that blood would be shed.

The sad part of the tale was that Dhritarashtra was aware that he was following the path of evil and that it would result in the destruction of his clan. Yet he seemed powerless to act otherwise. Dhritarashtra’s tale is common to humankind. Often, we follow wrong paths even though we know it is wrong, almost as if under a hypnotic spell. We know that the result may not be in our best interests in the long term but we can’t stop ourselves. Gita, therefore, begins from this premise.

It is not merely the fight between good and evil. It is far more than that. It is about our inner conflict in being unable to do the right thing, not being courageous enough to stand for what is right. It is about the lack of awareness, clarity and courage to follow the path of righteousness. It is a fight between good and evil within us, not merely the good and evil outside of us. Krishna, the Superconscious, constantly looms over our being, yet we ignore this divine call within us, caught in the illusion that what we choose to do instead will make us happy.

Dhritarashtra refers to Kurukshetra, the site of this war, as a holy land or place of righteousness, dharmakṣetra. People ask, ‘How can a battlefield be called a holy land?’ If you study the history of humanity, you find that it has always been a battlefield. Whether these wars were morally guided or misguided is a matter of opinion. What is right for one need not be right for another.

Practically every century, if not every decade, there have been battles in some part of the world. Almost all were created out of the belief that one party was morally right and the other wrong. In that sense, each battle was fought to restore righteousness, as believed by both parties. So, in that sense every battlefield was a holy site according to someone’s belief, restoring the highest values and beliefs.

In the case of Dhritarashtra, he had an additional reason. He implicitly recognized the divinity of Krishna, whose mere presence on this battlefield conferred upon it the mantle of righteousness. Wherever Krishna was, that was where righteousness would prevail. Even in his confused state of thinking, there was enough clarity in Dhritarashtra’s mind to acknowledge the supremacy of Krishna. This revealed itself in his choice of words. It was as if, at one level, Dhritarashtra knew that the fate of his Kaurava clan was sealed.

If Krishna was the epitome of righteousness, and Krishna was on the side of the Pandavas, how could the Pandavas lose? The tragic fate of Dhritarashtra was that he knew that the destruction of his clan was inevitable, and yet he was powerless to do anything about it.

Sanjaya was Dhritarashtra’s minister and charioteer. By the grace of sage Vyasa, Sanjaya was given the power to see whatever was going on in the battlefield, so that he could faithfully convey to king Dhritarashtra and queen Gandhari the tragic happenings therein. His third eye or centre of intuition was opened, and not only could he see what was happening at a faraway location, but he had the power of intuition as well, to know what would unfold.

We are all blind in one sense or another, and Dhritarashtra represents the majority of mankind in this aspect. Blindness in this case is not only the physical inability to see. It essentially represents the inability to discriminate between right and wrong, and the absence of the desire to distinguish between right and wrong.

We can all be like Sanjaya, with our third eyes open instead of being blind like Dhritarashtra. This is one of the messages of Gita. Becoming aware of our inner conflicts is the first step in opening the third eye, the energy center located between the eyebrows.

Again, it is interesting the way Sanjaya started his description of the proceedings.

Duryodhana was the crown prince, and for all practical purposes the king as well, since his father was both blind and powerless to stop him. Duryodhana saw the soldiers of the Pandava army arrayed in front of him. There were many ways he could have responded to the sight. As the person who single-handedly instigated this war, Duryodhana could have gloated, that surely he would vanquish his cousins. As a measure to reassure himself and his army, Duryodhana could have roared out in anger and in defiance. Yet, after seeing the army he chose to approach his teacher and mentor, Drona, one of the commanders of the Kaurava army, to seek his blessings.

As we shall see, the move was to ensure that any blame for the outcome of the war would fall on Drona's shoulders. Duryodhana approaching his mentor was more to hold him responsible than to seek reassurance or blessings.

This is how most people act when they go forward with a plan of action, knowing fully well that it is wrong and can lead to serious consequences. They find something or someone else to blame. It is well understood that whatever follows will be unpleasant, and what triggered it is their foolish action. Yet, there is solace in the belief that they can lay the blame on someone else, however illogical it may be.

Duryodhana understood well the modern management concept of delegation. Like many managers today, he delegated so that he could abdicate responsibility.

One man from the IT industry was telling me how things work in his company. He said:

When a customer asks our big boss, the CEO, if we can complete a difficult project for them within a week, our CEO first sends the request to the Divisional Manager, who then sends it down to a Project Manager, who in turn sends it to a team of programmers to study the cost.

When the project seems ambitious and not worth our while, we at the programmer level tell our boss, the Project Manager, 'It is impossible and foolish to take this on. There is no way we can do it in even a month.'

The Project Manager then tells the Divisional Manager, 'It is a difficult and expensive project and it cannot be done within a fortnight.'

The Divisional Manager in turn tells the CEO, ‘It is a huge challenge and with a lot of overtime it could be done in a week.’

The CEO informs the customer, ‘Our company will deliver it in three days!’ - thereby making the programming team responsible for it.

Delegation can work miracles, as long as the person who delegates does not know what needs to be done!

Duryodhana was now exhibiting his mastery in this field of management. He was aware that there was no hope to win the war. However, his greed for power and wealth blinded him to a point where he could not face reality. He wished to change reality so that he could control the outcome. He could not take responsibility for the situation as it was, since he did not know how to. All he could do was turn to his mentors and tell them they were responsible for ensuring his success.

Duryodhana was blunt in his message to Drona on the battlefield. Drona was not a typical warrior. He was a brāhmaṇa, a scholar, and learned his skills of archery and warfare from his father, sage Bharadwaja. Drupada, the prince of Panchala, was a fellow disciple of Bharadwaja, and he had promised his childhood friend Drona part of his kingdom when he came to power. When Drona was in serious financial trouble and approached Drupada for help, Drupada insulted him and turned him away from his court. Drona became the teacher of the Pandava and Kaurava princes. At the end of their training, he demanded his fees as a teacher, his gurudakṣiṇā, as was the tradition. Instead of anything material, he asked them to capture Drupada and bring the king to him. Of his disciples, only Arjuna was ready to do this. Arjuna did as he was asked and brought Drupada as his prisoner of war to his guru Drona, as a gift.

Drona released Drupada and handed his kingdom back. Drupada was mortified at his capture and submission to Drona. He went into deep penance and sought a child who would kill Drona. Drishtadyumna was born to Drupada as a result of this penance, and he became, ironically, a disciple of Drona along with the Pandava and Kaurava princes. Though Drona was aware of the background of Drishtadyumna’s birth, he still accepted him as a disciple and trained him in warfare. Dhrishtadyumna became the Commander-in-Chief of the Pandava army in this great war, and Drona was one of the opposing Commanders in the Kaurava army.

Duryodhana pointedly referred to Drona’s lack of foresight in training his potential killer, who now led the opposing army. It was as though he was warning Drona not to be so trusting again and not to go easy on the opponent, who was once his student. Duryodhana then pointed out the other great Pandava warriors, such as Bhima and Arjuna, who too were students of Drona, as well as a number of other great warriors fighting for the Pandavas.

Duryodhana then decided to explain to Drona about the great warriors on the Kaurava side. Duryodhana was no longer a disciple addressing his mentor. It was as if Duryodhana had hired Drona as a mercenary to wage a battle for him. Duryodhana alternately berated Drona for having trained the warriors of the opposing army and then pacified him by listing him at the head of his own great warriors.

Duryodhana was totally confused. He started off praising the strength of the Pandava army. This was not because he genuinely wanted to, but mainly to point out to Drona the mistakes Duryodhana felt Drona had committed.

At one level, as a kṣatriya, Duryodhana did not have respect for Drona, a brāhmaṇa scholar; he felt that a brāhmaṇa had no business engaging in warfare. However, knowing the skill of Drona as a warrior, Duryodhana had no choice but to keep him on his side; it would have been too dangerous for Duryodhana if Drona were to take sides with the Pandava princes.

At another level, Duryodhana had no trust in Drona. He always felt that Drona was partial to the Pandava princes and that Arjuna was his favorite. Duryodhana knew in his heart that given the choice, Drona would not support him. He knew that Drona had no respect for him, and considered him to be in the wrong. He also knew that Drona held Krishna in great esteem and did not believe that Duryodhana could succeed in this war.

Duryodhana was in deep inner conflict. He had no sense of guilt going to war against his brethren, as he desperately wanted to keep the kingdom for himself and did not believe that he would be safe as long as the Pandava princes were alive. His problem was not one of doing right or wrong. Whatever he did was right, according to him. He was not a man given to deep thinking.

However, Duryodhana had no trust in many of the great warriors who had taken his side. He knew that many, especially Drona, Bhishma, and Kripa, who were also the teachers of the Pandava princes, did not want to fight the Pandava army. He knew that they were compelled from a moral standpoint to fight for him and not as directed by their consciousness. This was the source of his conflict and uncertainty.

It was also strange that at the beginning of the war Duryodhana chose to go to Drona, and not Bhishma, his great grandfather and Commander-in-Chief. It was as if Duryodhana was afraid to tell Bhishma what he said to Drona.

Drona was a subject of the king, to whom Duryodhana could talk abrasively. Bhishma, on the other hand, was his great grandfather, the one who had given up his chance to be king to fulfill his own father's moral obligations, and to satisfy his father's lust. There was no way that Duryodhana could have said the same words to Bhishma at this stage of the war.

Duryodhana was not yet feeling desperate enough about the situation to confront Bhishma. At a later stage in the war, when it became clearer that the Kaurava army was in deep trouble, Duryodhana approached Bhishma and blamed him for being partial to the Pandava princes.

Q: Swamiji, you talked about people who are physically blind and people who see yet are still blinded by ignorance. If a great king like Dhritarashtra could be blinded by his love for his son, how can ordinary mortals be any better?

Dhritarashtra is a metaphor for the rest of humanity in the same way as the Mahabharata is a metaphor for life. One can learn to cope with physical blindness, although with difficulty. One is aware of one's blindness and takes the necessary action to circumvent any limitations imposed by this affliction.

Psychological blindness is far more difficult to cope with. Most of the time, you are not even aware that you are blind. There lies the problem. You can only look for a solution if you know that you have a problem. If you are unaware, you think you are normal and that all the problems you face as a result are normal too.

Look around you. There are many examples that you can see in real life. To many parents, their children can do no wrong, even when they are confronted with evidence.

A father once narrated a real life incident to me:

He borrowed money so that his intelligent son could attend a top boarding school in India. Even though it was a financial burden, the father wanted to ensure that his son was educated in the best school and could mix with children of well-connected and rich parents.

The son also excelled in sports and was even a captain of several teams. In his pre-final year at school, the warden in the hostel caught him with drugs and the young man was expelled. The father tried his best to prevent the expulsion, but could not succeed. His son told him he was innocent, even though the warden and other children told the father that his son had a drug-related problem.

The boy was kept at home and went to a local school. Again teachers reported to the parents that the boy kept bad company and that they should be careful. The son told his father a different story. The father believed the son and refused to take him for the prescribed treatment.

Today this young man is over twenty-five years old. He barely managed to scrape through college, and cannot stick to any job and is a burden to the parents. He still has a drug problem, and yet the father finds it difficult to accept it and take him for treatment.

Is this an unusual incident? No, not at all. In many households there are similar issues with a child, where the parents find it impossible to face the reality of the situation. Reality is too harsh and they prefer to hide behind lies, often knowing that these are lies.

Why? Why are there so many Dhritarashtras amongst us? One prominent reason is that we employ denial to protect our ego. Other people may know that the son is a drug addict, but once the father accepts it, it becomes a publicly acknowledged fact. Until then, even if the rest of the world talks about it, he can hide under a bunch of lies and feel that all is well. Taking the child for treatment is like accepting the problem, which will result in shame and the need to accept some measure of responsibility, as the father sees it.

Social acceptance is of paramount importance for most people. If they lose that, they lose everything. Their entire life depends upon recognition and acceptance. People have such a low opinion of themselves or place such a low value on their own judgments that they act upon what others say or think. They dance to other peoples' tunes.

From childhood we are trained and conditioned not to believe in ourselves. We are forever told to do this or that, or more often not to do that or this. Children are rewarded if they obey and punished if they do not. They don't have a choice. Only the most rebellious of children may get away with what he or she chooses to do. For most others it is better, simpler and safer just to conform.

This basic acceptance of what your parents and elders decide as right and wrong for you carries over into adult life. Your role and path in life is defined for you as a child. You are given a manual of do's and dont's for life. This manual may be a list of ten, or one hundred or a thousand commandments.

This is the reason why most people are lifeless and dull. You are brought up... actually brought down from childhood, from the natural joy and curiosity of a child, to the dull state of an adult who can only live with the help of a manual. You are afraid to do anything that is not in the manual. You are scared to do anything that is different from what you are used to doing. You feel safe and secure only if you follow certain patterns.

Some people will occupy the same place at the dining table throughout their life. They will shop at the same places in their neighborhood. They will be proud that they have only a few selected friends throughout their life. Such people are already dead while they are still living.

If we think deeply, it is a simple reflection of our own insecurity. We are so afraid even to take the risk of changing our position at the dinner table, or adding to our circle of friends or considering a new routine. We are frozen in time and space. Of course, this will give us comfort; but this is the comfort of the dead. We become like buffaloes wallowing in the same spot in the mud, come what may. The buffalo is so conditioned that it will go back to that same spot. It is an animal and follows its instincts, but what about us?

Our habit is to establish ourselves in an identity and then get bound by that identity. We dare not question who we really are. The role that we play and the position that we have assigned to ourselves, or whatever society has assigned to us, becomes the most important thing in our life. To break that is to lose society's respect. That is truly worse than death for many of us.

There are people who say that honor is more important than life; death over dishonor was a favorite motto of some kings. Does anyone stop to think about the meaning of honor? Who defines honor for you? Why is the life and joy of a daughter less important than the opinion of society? Why does the character of a wife have to be defined by what a passerby says?

Honor is a code that society lays down to control us through fear and greed. It is a moral code, a code of conscience, a code being imposed from outside. It is not a voice from your inner space. It is not a signal from your consciousness.

Be very clear, conscience is not consciousness. Conscience is a convenient anchor for you to hang feelings of guilt upon. If you do not punish your daughter or wife because they seem to be violating your societal code, you would feel guilty. You justify your inhumanity by your need to absolve yourself of societal guilt.

When we operate in this mode we operate under assumptions of some duty that we owe to life and society. Life does not expect us to fulfill any obligations on its behalf, but society does. There is no duty that we owe to anybody - to our spouses, sons and daughters, parents or anyone else. As long as we operate in a mode of being obligated, we behave in a business mode, on a conditional basis.

When we shift to unconditional relationships, there is no such thing as duty. When you do things out of deep awareness and without expectation of reward, the word duty will leave you forever.

It is a responsibility that we have as human beings to be compassionate towards others, and in that mode of compassion we can never harm anyone or tolerate harm coming to another. When we operate out of compassion, we operate out of intelligence. When we operate out of a need to fulfill some duty or moral obligation, we operate out of blind conditioning. We operate without awareness.

That is what Dhritarashtra does here. In addition to being visually handicapped, he is also burdened by his duty to his sons, especially his eldest. After all, Duryodhana is the crown prince and as his father, Dhritarashtra feels he owes the prince his support irrespective of what harm he causes.

Unfortunately for him, Dhritarashtra never transcends the role of dutiful love towards his son. If Dhritarashtra’s boundaries of compassion had extended beyond Duryodhana to cover others, such as the Pandava princes, this epic would have ended differently.

We too can have a different ending to our life’s story if we expand the boundaries of our relationships with awareness. Our eyes will be truly opened. We will not only see but we will see intelligently too.

This attitude has nothing to do with one’s position in life. It depends only on whether we allow ourselves to be blinded by ignorance, by what we consider to be our duty based on societal regulations, or whether we act in awareness of our true responsibilities in life.