The Bhagavad Gita (4 page)

Imagine! A man we can all identify with is in dire straits, at a crossroads, brought to his knees by the great pressures and complexities of life, shakily reaching out. And his best friend, an incarnation of God, takes his hand and walks him through the answer — explaining step-by-step the most profound secrets of all ages.

Walking through the
Gita
may not be bump free. Some words are unpronounceable and some of the ideas are so new to us or so different to our Western culture they can be missed, or worse, dismissed. The idea of
Atma,
for example, which is the Divinity in us, can feel strange to a Westerner (“me, God?”) until
Atma
is understood to be a version of the soul. The ideas of
detaching
and
surrendering
are anathema to most Westerners. For some, the concept of
Avatar
(an embodied God) is unthinkable; for others it is acceptable only if it happens to be
their
idea of God who inhabits a body.

Early in the story most readers agree with Arjuna’s
antiwar sentiments, only to be dismayed when Krishna, seeming to justify war, tells him to go and fight! The shock diminishes as we gradually learn that it is not a question of being for or against war, or even an issue of slaying or being slain, but an issue of living by one’s inner truth and doing one’s duty. We have to keep reminding ourselves that the battle is metaphoric, that the war is being fought inside each of us and will continue throughout our lives.

There are bound to be other bumps. Many of the words in the original Sanskrit have multiple meanings (
karma,
for example), and some of the concepts may not appear fashionable in our times (
sacrifice, duty,
and
purity
are examples). There will probably be others.

The point is to try not to be turned off or dismiss anything in the
Gita
too early. These truths have survived the sands of time; what remains is amazingly pure and practical. This is a powerful work filled with Truth beyond intellectualization.

You have to read the
Gita
through your heart. It is your mood while reading that smoothes your way through this ancient scripture. Be as receptive as you possibly can. Toss uneasiness and skepticism on the shelf for a while. Try to suspend hasty judgments, and be more patient with unfamiliar usage of familiar words. Allow new conceptions of unity and Divinity to enter and expand you into new ways of thinking, and of being. Read it heedfully and be prepared to take contemplation breaks along the way. Let it sink in. There is a high magic in reading this way.

The magic resides in the reader’s overall attitude. This mood of acceptance is precisely how the
Gita
exhorts us to live our lives. This is the invaluable state of mind that brings a happier life! When we imbibe these ancient teachings in this spirit, its high message seeps into our being, prompting and penetrating every thought and act. It becomes a part of us, and we of it. Thus the process of reading the
Gita
becomes an actual experience of the profound truths it brings. Reading it this way is
being
it!

The
Gita,
after all, is not theology or religion — it’s poetry. It’s a universal love song sung by God to His friend man. It can’t be confined by any creed. It’s a statement of the truths at the core of what we all already believe, only it makes those truths clearer, so they become immediately useful in our daily lives. Those truths are for our hearts, not just our heads.

The
Gita
is more than just a book, more than mere words or concepts. There is an accumulated potency in it. To read the
Gita
is to be inspired in the true sense of the term: to be “inspirited,” to inhale the ancient and ever-new breath of spiritual energy.

Now, we too are there on that long-ago yet strangely current battlefield, a witness to Krishna’s grand teachings. We too are there, being let in on the secrets. We watch and listen as the Lord Himself, swinging easily between ecstasy and practicality, imparts the absolute deepest and highest teachings. We too are walking through God’s precise, loving responses to the most anguishing and important questions of humanity today.

“Why should I wage a bloody war?…

Death would be better for me!”

    1 His unseeing eyes blinked several times as he spoke to his minister Sanjaya. The blind old king, Dhritarashtra, fidgeted and cleared his throat. “Tell me, Sanjaya, what is happening on the holy plain where the mighty armies of my son, Duryodhana, and the armies of his cousin Arjuna are gathered to fight?”

The old man knew that his son Duryodhana’s decision to go to war was wrong. He knew that the young king’s judgment was clouded over by his jealous hate for his cousin. The old man had felt pangs of conscience but had said nothing when his son cheated Arjuna’s family out of their rightful kingdom and then denied their
requests for even a trifling parcel of the land that was rightfully theirs. The old man had maintained his curious silence when his son mortified Arjuna’s wife and the whole family in public by having a henchman attempt to strip her of her clothes. He didn’t condemn his son’s heinous attempt to assassinate Arjuna’s entire family. Nor did the old man try to change his son’s mind when the young king sneered at all the recent peace overtures from Arjuna’s family.

Indeed, the old man was so caught up in his mindless support of his son that neither ethical nor spiritual feelings could find their way into his heart. All good judgment had been lost. An unfair and ill-conceived war was about to erupt, and though he was the only person who could at this point avert the disastrous slaughter, he had no mind to do so.

  2  The minister Sanjaya, because of his honest character, had been granted temporary
yogic
powers to see and hear what was occurring on the distant battlefield. (Sanjaya’s name means “victorious over the self.”) With a steady voice he replied to the old king’s question: “Your son, King Duryodhana, is now viewing for the first time Prince Arjuna’s opposing army all drawn up and ready to fight. It is obviously more formidable than Duryodhana had expected and he seems a bit anxious. Your son turns to his own forces as if looking for something or someone. Almost childlike in his manner, he finds Drona, his old archery teacher, in the crowd and moves quickly to him.”

Sanjaya paused and leaned toward the old man, “Why is your son running to his former teacher? Perhaps his confidence wanes, or his conscience bothers him.”

  3  The old king didn’t immediately react to this, which to Sanjaya showed that the old man’s spirits were as sinister as his son’s. Sanjaya continued his description of the distant scene: “Your son, almost flinging his words at his venerable teacher, says, ‘Well, Drona, take a look at the army marshaled by your talented disciple, Arjuna. Why did you accept him as your pupil and teach him the arts of war?’ The question carries a taunt, implying that Drona had made a mistake years ago in tutoring this prince who is now the enemy.”

Sanjaya shook his head, “No one should ever speak to his teacher this way; it reveals your son’s nervousness.”

4-6 Without waiting for the old king’s reactions, Sanjaya continued his account: “Your son is now mentioning the names, one by one, of the noted leaders of Arjuna’s opposing army, some of whom were also Drona’s students. He is too carefully enunciating each name, which is an indirect but rather obvious censuring of his ex-master for the opposition’s great strength.

7-8 “But now your son realizes that he has overstepped his bounds and switches to listing the leaders on his own side. He puts the teacher Drona at the top of his list, clearly a patronizing gesture. As your son continues speaking, the generals standing close by appear uncomfortable with the too careful way he is voicing their names.”

9-10 Sanjaya waited a moment, as though continuing to watch the far-off scene, and then resumed his account. “Sensing his generals’ discomfort, your son abruptly stops. ‘But we have many heroes on our side,’ he says, ‘and they’re ready to lay down their lives
for me!’ But again his words don’t fit his demeanor. There’s a forced bravado in his voice; it’s not clear whether he’s putting down his own army or the opposition’s. It’s as though your son is unwittingly spelling ruin to himself and our forces even as he attempts to put weakness on the enemy.

11  “He tries to rectify this, and blurts an order to his generals, ‘Go, assume your positions,’ he says and then adds, ‘But at all costs protect Field Marshal Bhishma.’ His words and manner again reveal doubts, as if he does not trust his own generals. Or perhaps his concern about protecting Bhishma, the venerable old man both sides call ‘grandfather,’ is a grasp at a semblance of righteousness for his own side.”

12   Sanjaya stopped talking as he watched the events unfold on the distant battlefield, and then resumed his narration: “Now, Bhishma, as if trying to cheer your son and rescue the deteriorating situation, is suddenly roaring like a lion and blowing his conch, indicating that the battle has begun!

13  “All the armies standing behind him have suddenly come to life, blaring forth their conches, kettle drums, cymbals, cow-horns, and trumpets. It’s a loud, tumultuous noise.

14-15 “Now the opposition, led by Prince Arjuna and his lifelong friend Krishna, are answering this deafening roar with long, wailing blasts on their own conches.

16-18 “This incites all their forces to join in trumpeting and pounding drums — a noise that fills earth and sky with reverberations. The tumult seems even greater than that of the army of your son, although Arjuna’s army is smaller.

19    “Like thunder, the noise of the opposition seems to 19 tear through the hearts of your son’s armies. It’s as if the respective clamors of the two sides echoes the relative justness of their causes. The opposition’s greater commotion seems to abnormally penetrate the hearts and consciences of your forces.”

Arjuna Loses His Resolve

20-23  The old blind king squirmed in his seat, but ever-honest Sanjaya ignored it, and continued his commentary. “Your son’s blood enemy Prince Arjuna, aware that the fighting is about to begin, lifts his bow and speaks with an obvious — perhaps too obvious — zeal. ‘Krishna,’ Arjuna says, ‘place my chariot between the two armies! I want to view those who come here daring to fight for the evil-minded Duryodhana.’

24-25  “Everyone on both sides watches as Krishna drives Arjuna’s splendid war chariot onto the open field between the two armies and positions it in front of the opposing generals. ‘Behold the gathered foes,’ Krishna says with an edge in his voice.

26-28  “Arjuna now looks long at both armies, staring especially at his paternal uncles, teachers, cousins, and various benefactors, friends, and comrades on both sides. As his eyes fall on those who are now his enemies, his attitude seems to waver and he appears confused. He begins to speak to Krishna but the words get caught in his throat. The prince collects himself and again begins, ‘Seeing my kinsmen gathered here ready to fight,’ he says, ‘all of a sudden I am overwhelmed by my emotions.