15. Sri Krishna blew the conch named Pancajanya, and Arjuna blew that called Devadatta. The mighty Bhima blew the huge conch Paundra.
16. Yudhishthira, the king, the son of Kunti, blew the conch Anantavijaya; Nakula and Sahadeva blew their conchs as well.
17–18. The king of Kashi, the leading bowman, the great warrior Shikhandi, Dhrishtadyumna, Virata, the invincible Satyaki, Drupada, all the sons of Draupadi, and the son of Subhadra with the mighty arms all blew their conchs.
19. And the noise tore through the heart of Duryodhana’s army. Indeed, the sound was tumultuous, echoing throughout heaven and earth.
The tumult and confusion of warfare are the same no matter what the times or circumstances, no matter who the contestants or what the issues involved. In ancient India it was the mighty bowman and the strong elephant, today it is the missile and the tank, but the dreadful disruption of life which results is the same in both cases. As the Compassionate Buddha said more than two thousand years ago, “Hatred will never cease by hatred at any time. Hatred ceases only through love. This is an eternal law.” We can never bring an end to violence by using violent means; far from resolving conflicts, hostility and retaliation drive people further apart and make havoc of life.
The tragedy of self-will is that it leads to increasing insecurity, ill health, loneliness, and despair. This cannot but be the discouraging prognosis for those who pursue personal profit, power, prestige, and pleasure at the expense of the welfare of their family and community. In the beautiful words of St. Francis of Assisi, “It is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned.” Most of us suffer from the mistaken belief that it is in grabbing that we receive, it is in venting anger that we improve our relationships, and it is in having our own way that we find fulfillment. Unfortunately happiness escapes us the more we clutch at it by manipulating those around us and accumulating more material possessions. Security is not found in a stockpile of weapons but in mutual trust and respect among individuals, races, and nations; peace is not found in asserting our rights over others but in assuring the lasting welfare of our extended circle of family and friends. This is the great insight that comes in meditation: on the spiritual path there is no possibility of defeat, for the Lord – called Sri Krishna by some and the Christ by others – is in the depths of our consciousness to support us, guide us, and help us win the war against our self-will.
One of the glorious names for Sri Krishna, used here and elsewhere throughout the Gita to remind us of the complete, unending joy lying within us, is Hrishikesha, ‘he whose hair stands on end with joy.’ The name used here for Arjuna should also inspire us: Dhananjaya, ‘conqueror of wealth.’ This is the perfect epithet for the person who meditates, for he discovers that real wealth comes from giving freely of himself to others. We do not learn to do this overnight; we do not go to sleep selfish one evening and wake up the next morning with every trace of self-will gone. The battle against the ego is a long, agonizing affair that may take our entire lifetime. When we accept this challenge, all the boredom goes out of life; every day brings new tests of our endurance, strength, and desire to win the battle. All our angry, aggressive instincts are harnessed to the effort; instead of anger using us, we control it and use it as a source of tremendous power. We can take heart from the great mystics who have successfully met this challenge. As the Buddha declared twenty-five hundred years ago: “One man may conquer in battle a thousand times a thousand men; but if another conquers himself, he is the greatest of conquerors.” It is only a mystic who can understand what struggle is required to extinguish self-will, to gain the patience that will not be exhausted by any attack and the forgiveness that will bear even with those who slander him.
20–21. Then, O Dhritarashtra, lord of the earth, having seen your son’s forces set in their places and the fighting about to begin, Arjuna spoke these words to Sri Krishna.
ARJUNA
21–22. O Krishna, drive my chariot between the two armies. I want to see those who desire to fight with me. With whom will this battle be fought?
23. I wish to see those assembled to fight for Duryodhana, those who desire to please the evil-minded son of Dhritarashtra by engaging in war.
SANJAYA
24–25. Thus Arjuna spoke, and Sri Krishna, driving his splendid chariot between the two armies, facing Bhishma and Drona and all the kings of the earth, said: “Arjuna, behold all the Kurus gathered together.”
26–29. And Arjuna, as he stood between the two armies, saw fathers and grandfathers, teachers, uncles, and brothers, sons and grandsons, in-laws and friends. Seeing his kinsmen established in opposition, Arjuna fell into confusion and mournfully spoke these words
ARJUNA
O Krishna, I see my own relations here with the desire to fight, and my limbs are weak; my mouth is dry, my body is shaking, and my hair is standing on end.
One of the best definitions of confusion is doing what is unnecessary and failing to do what is necessary. This is our condition in life when we clash with our family and friends and fail to fight our worst enemy, our own self-will and separateness. Arjuna is beginning to realize that the battle he must wage is against what he has always considered to be a part of himself. Faced with the task of ridding his consciousness of every trace of selfish desire, Arjuna, like you and me, moans and groans to Sri Krishna: “How can I possibly fight these people, my best pals, with whom I have painted Hastinapura red?”
We have been so conditioned to search for happiness in sense-pleasure that defying these urges appears to be a denial of life itself. Actually the opposite is true. As we progress on the spiritual path, our vision begins to clear and our passions begin to come under our control, and we discover that we have been pursuing agitation instead of joy and accumulation instead of security. The curious thing is that we are convinced we can isolate pleasure as our own private possession, although it has escaped our grasp time and again. We may have failed in the past, but the next time we think we will succeed for sure, and we go on trying. The other day, while going for a walk, we saw two Alsatians that reminded me of our flair for chasing pleasure and profit. These two dogs were trying to catch a rainbow over a water sprinkler so they could take it home to their doghouse. One after the other they would come, jump into the spray, and snap at the rainbow hovering there. As soon as one had finished his jump, the other one would follow right on his heels as if to say, “You don’t know how to do it. Let me show you,” over and over again. This is what you and I do when we try to catch the rainbow that is personal pleasure, power, profit, and prestige. Even though we go through the experience many times, we do not seem able to learn from it. The Gita very compassionately says that the sooner we learn this lesson in life, the better it will be.
It is not surprising that we follow passing pleasure instead of abiding joy when we consider the extensive influence of the mass media and the widespread use of advertising. From childhood onwards we are conditioned to believe that we are our body, senses, and mind, and that happiness lies in satisfying their whims and desires. We have become so accustomed to telling Mr. Ego “You say, I do” that the very idea of questioning his authority by training the senses and changing our attitudes makes us tremble in anxiety. In meditation we begin to suspect that the ego is really a tyrant who has usurped the throne from our real Self, called the Atman in Sanskrit, which is the source of all wisdom and beauty in life. Once this suspicion arises, the days of the ego’s tyranny are numbered, and the cloud of confusion which has blinded us begins to be dispelled.
30. My skin is burning, and the bow Gandiva has slipped from my hand. I am unable to stand, and my mind seems to be whirling.
31. The signs are evil for us. I do not see that any good can come from killing our relations in battle.
32. O Krishna, I do not desire victory, or a kingdom, or pleasures. Of what use is a kingdom, O Govinda, or pleasure, or even life?
Arjuna is suffering from a very contemporary malady, paralysis of th
e will. This is the crux of many of our problems. We say we want to put an end to war, yet we go on making missiles, guns, tanks, and bombs, and arming other countries in the name of peace. We are alarmed about violence, yet we let our children watch hour after hour of violent television programs. We are concerned about pollution, but we pour pollutants by the ton into our rivers and oceans; we make the air unfit to breathe and strip the earth of irreplaceable resources. Even when we can clearly see the urgency of stopping pollution and putting an end to violence, we lack the will and the wisdom to translate our desire into effective action.
Though Arjuna deplores this state of inertia and self-pity, he is unable to shake it off. This is often our problem too; we can diagnose our shortcomings and even give a brilliant synopsis of the world's woes, but as long as our knowledge is limited to intellectual analysis, we will not have the capacity to make the world more peaceful; we will not be able to prevent pollution or even bring together estranged families and friends. It is the deeper will and wisdom which come through meditation that enable us to tap the creative resources and untiring energy lying latent in our consciousness.
Looking at the opposing army, Arjuna is plunged into confusion. His special bow, Gandiva, slips from his grasp, and his mind reels at the prospect of fighting. This confrontation comes to all of us who are in earnest about putting an end to the cause of our sorrow and suffering, our petty little personality driven by self-will. Success on the spiritual path requires the highest kind of courage we can muster, for every ounce of our strength and resolution will be tested. It was my spiritual teacher, my mother’s mother, who showed me through the example of her own life that it is the nonviolent person who cannot be frightened; the violent person can always be threatened with greater violence. If you want to see real bravery, look at the person who is patient under attack, who will not retaliate, who will suffer rather than inflict suffering on others. This is the heroic ideal Jesus the Christ gives us to follow: “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you, that ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven.” Sri Krishna, in his infinite grace, helps Arjuna find this source of strength within himself, just as he enables us, when we turn to him, to become patient when attacked, forbearing when provoked, and loving when hated. This is the way we grow fearless and strong enough to grapple with the grave problems that threaten our world.
33–34. Those for whose sake we would desire a kingdom, or pleasures, or happiness – teachers, fathers, sons, even grandfathers, uncles, in-laws, grandsons, and others with family ties – they are engaging in this battle, renouncing their wealth and their lives.
35. Even if they were to kill me, O Krishna, I would not want to kill them, not even to become ruler of the three worlds. How much less for the earth alone?
36. O Krishna, what satisfaction could we find in killing Dhritarashtra’s sons? We would become sinners by slaying these men, even though evil.
37. The sons of Dhritarashtra are related to us; therefore, we should not kill them, O Madhava. How can we gain happiness by killing members of our own family?
38–39. Though they are overpowered by greed and do not see evil in the decay of the family or the sin in injuring friends, we see the evil which comes from the destruction of the family. Why shouldn’t we turn away from this sin?
40. When a family declines, ancient traditions are destroyed. With them are lost the spiritual foundations for life, and the entire family loses its sense of unity.
41. O Krishna, where there is no sense of unity the women of the family become corrupt. With the corruption of the women, O Varshneya, society is plunged into chaos.
To realize the unity underlying all life and live in harmony with this awareness, we do not have to quit our jobs, leave our family, drop out of school, or turn our back on society. Living in the midst of our extended circle of family and friends provides the perfect context for learning to see the Lord in everyone, everywhere, every minute, for in these deep personal relationships we can easily forget ourselves, our comforts, and our conveniences in ensuring the joy of others. This is a straightforward way of reducing our self-will, which is the only obstacle standing between the Lord and us.
In these verses Arjuna has addressed Sri Krishna very appropriately by using two of his family names: Madhava, ‘son of the Madhu clan’; and Varshneya, ‘he who belongs to the family of the Vrishnis.’ The family has always been a symbol of unity and selfless love in spite of the serious problems that have afflicted it from time to time. Arjuna’s confusion over his family responsibility is ours as well, for we have let competition and self-interest tear our families apart. Husband and wife compete against each other, parents and children compete, sister and brother compete; even the grandparents are trying to get into the act. This competitive tendency has spread from the home to the school and campus, to organizations, and of course to international relationships. It breeds distrust, suspicion, and jealousy wherever it goes. As our security increases through meditation, we find we do not need to compete, for the source of joy and wisdom is right within us. Competition has so distorted our vision that we are defensive towards even our dear ones, but as our meditation deepens, we see what lasting joy there is in trying to complete one another rather than compete against one another.
If just one person in a family takes to the spiritual life, he or she can slowly transform the home from a battleground into a citadel of strength for family and friends alike. This is particularly true when the woman takes to meditation, for she is in an advantageous position to support and inspire others with her selfless love, patience, and forbearance. Over a period of time, her quiet example will enable her partner, parents, children, and friends to grow strong and secure. My Grandmother used to tell the girls in my ancestral family that it was their privilege to light up the home with their generosity and forgiveness; she showed them in her own personal life how everyone cannot but respond to such a woman, and how family and friends eagerly return to such a home. We should bear in mind that this concept of family loyalty and unity is not limited just to parents and children; those who deeply care for each other’s welfare are a family in the best sense of the word, and it is by extending our capacity to love and support to a widening circle of friends that we transform our life into a permanent force for good in the world. Anandamayi Ma, the great woman saint of modern India whom my wife, Christine, and I have had the blessing of meeting, expresses this awareness of unity when she says: “The different organs of the human body fulfill different functions; some more noble certainly than others, but for the good of the body they must all be cared for. In the same way, try to treat with equal love all the people with whom you have relations. Make a habit of this and soon you will perceive that all humankind is as your family. Thus the abyss between ‘myself’ and ‘yourself’ will be filled in, which is the goal of all religious worship.”
42. Social chaos is hell for the family, and for those who have destroyed the family as well. It disrupts the process of spiritual evolution begun by our ancestors.
The perennial truth expressed in the scriptures, which we can realize in our own lives, is that all creation is evolving towards the unitive state. Any sensitive person can appreciate the grandeur of this process; just observe a hive of bees at work, or walk through a forest, or live with a selfless person, and you cannot but be profoundly moved by the way every aspect of creation can work with all the rest as a unit in perfect harmony. This truth has far-reaching application in our daily life. On the one hand, every time we violate the unity of life by venting our anger on those around us, or by harming our fellow creatures, we work against this evolution; on the other hand, every time we forgive others, do what benefits them, or alleviate the distress of any creature, we contribute towards this evolution. By striving to live in accord with this unity we bring about the fulfillment of all creation, which of course includes our own, but by going our separa
te ways, we obstruct the evolution of consciousness towards the unitive state.
The unity underlying life is so complete and pervasive that when we inflict suffering on the smallest creature, we injure the whole. When we refrain from habits that harm others, when we take up jobs that relieve suffering, when we work to put an end to anger and separateness, we strengthen the whole. John Donne reminds us of this when he says, “No man is an island entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were; any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.”
There is nothing more important in life than learning to express this unity in all our relationships: with our family and friends, with our colleagues and fellow workers, with other communities and countries, with other races and religious groups, and with other creatures. This is the way we come to see the presence of the Lord.
43. The timeless spiritual foundations of the family and society are destroyed by these terrible deeds which violate the unity of life.
44. It is said that those who have lost sight of this unity dwell in hell.
Arjuna is beginning to see the terrible consequences of disunity. We have a tendency to think of heaven and hell as physical domains located on some celestial map, when really they describe our state of being right here on earth. This is the practical meaning of unity and separateness in our daily living; we have a taste of heaven every time we forget ourselves in ensuring the joy of others, and we have a bitter dose of the other place when we think or behave unkindly.
The End of Sorrow Page 3