Passage 4

¹There is a certain beauty in calling the first chapter of the Bhagavad Gītā the 'Gītā of Arjuna' rather than the 'Gītā of Kṛṣṇa.' Overwhelmed by grief and moha, Arjuna laid down his weapons, turned away from battle, and sat in the chariot between the two armies. Looking carefully to both sides and seeing all those who were his own, he was seized by intense pity. Grieving, he let the Gāṇḍīva slip from his hand; unable even to stand, his mind in turmoil, he began speaking of Dharma and Karma in the manner of Pūrva Mīmāṁsā and declared that he would not fight. When Sañjaya reported this to the blind king Dhṛtarāṣṭra, that ignorant king felt a little joy. He imagined that the painful prospect of war, which had aroused such fear and expectation, was over. Lacking foresight and divine vision, Dhṛtarāṣṭra rejoiced that what he desired had been accomplished without effort. ²But Sañjaya, endowed with divine sight, thought within himself: 'Foolish king! Why this mad joy? When Paramātma Himself stands on the side of the Pāṇḍavas, can your hopes be fulfilled so easily?' He foresaw in his heart the terrible picture that lay ahead through Arjuna's war. Arjuna, meanwhile, was flooded by a surge of pity; his heart churned, his vision reeled, and he fell into a state of dejection unlike anything he had known. Seeing him so, Kṛṣṇa Paramātma could not remain silent. Like a physician taking the pulse, He examined the cause of Arjuna's illness and understood in an instant that this disease of moha had spread through the gross, subtle and causal levels of his being. He also saw that the pity which had entered and possessed Arjuna was not true compassion—for genuine compassion would belong to daivī sampat and could never lead one to reject Bhagavān. It was mamakāra, possessive attachment, wearing the veil of compassion. Kṛṣṇa therefore set out to destroy it. Hence the expression 'kṛpayāviṣṭam'—'overcome by pity.' ³As a person may be possessed by a spirit, Arjuna had been possessed by this ghost called pity. Yet there was no reason to fear, for Kṛṣṇa Paramātma Himself was beside him. What power can any spirit have in the presence of the Lord of all beings? As the saying goes, 'Vaidyo Nārāyaṇo Hariḥ'—Nārāyaṇa Himself is the physician. For Arjuna, Kṛṣṇa Paramātma became that physician. How fortunate Arjuna was! Even sorrow, when it is the right kind of sorrow, can lead one toward attainment. Through his dejection and grief, Arjuna lamented like one afflicted by a spirit until the eleventh śloka of the second chapter. Thus, up to the tenth śloka of Sāṅkhya Yoga, the second chapter may still be called the 'Gītā of Arjuna.' From the eleventh śloka begins the nectar-teaching of Kṛṣṇa Paramātma; from there the Bhagavad Gītā truly begins. The first chapter is the culmination of the tamoguṇa-state that seized Arjuna, and Sañjaya narrates those tamasic movements to Dhṛtarāṣṭra. Kṛṣṇa Paramātma does not intervene there; He remains the witness of all. Only when Arjuna finally says, 'I will not fight. My discrimination between Dharma and adharma has collapsed. I no longer know what to do. Tell me what is truly for my good,' and sits down abandoning battle, does Kṛṣṇa step forward: 'Arjuna! You are by nature pure and clear. From where has this weakness and cowardice come upon you at such a time? It is not worthy of you.' ⁴'Does not the very name Arjuna mean one of pure nature? What is this weeping without regard for time and circumstance? War is already upon you. The clouds of battle have gathered thickly, resounding and surrounding you. The enemies before you stand eager for the moment to strike. The injustice, lawlessness and misconduct they have shown you until now are beyond counting. Nor has that satisfied them; they are ready even to swallow the kingdom that is yours by Dharma.' ⁵'Until now you have endured many hardships without departing from truth. You fulfilled the conditions and periods they imposed upon you. As for efforts at reconciliation, there is no need even to recount them. We have seen as far as patience can see. There remains no path but battle if the eyes of that wicked, arrogant and unrighteous Duryodhana are to be opened. This is not a decision made today. Long ago the elders assembled, considered every aspect, and concluded that war had become unavoidable. Your brothers and you agreed. From that day onward every preparation needed for battle has been made, and you too have been immersed in it. Having come ready for battle today, why this retreat, why this cowardice? This war did not fall suddenly from the sky. You have gathered its means for a long time. You endured hardship and austerity, pleased the Lord of Kailāsa, and obtained the Pāśupatāstra. You went to the world of Devendra and acquired divine weapons. The forest exile passed; the year in concealment passed. You thought the Kauravas' pāpa had ripened and that the dawn-bell ending your misfortune had sounded. What has happened to you now? What śāstra or morality teaches this wretched weakness? You belong to the Kṣatriya lineage whose very life is Dharma. Possessing courage, fortitude and heroic strength, from where has this misplaced Vairāgya come? Dear one! This cowardly conduct will bring enduring shame not only upon you but upon all your noble forefathers. Enough! Shame on such cowardice. It is a stain upon Kṣatriyas. For a Kṣatriya, righteous battle is the royal road; it is the path to heaven. If you refuse battle now, you will fall into disgrace. The title Vijaya—victorious one—is wealth you earned for yourself. Will you cast into the dust the fame for which you poured out your whole life? Give up this petty moha, dear one. Listen to Me. Remember what happened in Amarāvatī.' ⁶'When Urvaśī herself desired you, you refused her. When she asked you to give her a son, you asked her instead to regard you as her son. You were then a man of extraordinary restraint, master of your senses. Because her desire failed, Urvaśī cursed you to become impotent, and that very curse later served its purpose in the city of Virāṭa. Where has that courage gone? From where has this helplessness come? Shame! Was it to display this cowardice that you ran at midnight, woke Me from sleep, and asked Me to come to your aid in war? Enough. Uproot this miserable moha. Burn weakness away and take up strength.' ⁷At this point Kṛṣṇa Paramātma used four expressions: kaśmalam, anāryajuṣṭam, asvargyam, and akīrtikaram. Kaśmalam indicates ignorance; anāryajuṣṭam, a state bereft of the noble joy of the divine nature; asvargyam, deprivation of spiritual well-being; and akīrtikaram, deprivation even of honour and well-being in this world. Kṛṣṇa's words, stirring manliness and awakening the Kṣatriya blood, began to work upon Arjuna. Under the rays of those words, the hardened tamoguṇa within him slowly began to melt and rajoguṇa began to stir. With that rajasic sharpness his tongue regained strength and he tried to speak. He asked Kṛṣṇa, 'Katham?'—'How?' Considered carefully, this single word reveals a profound secret. The Bhagavad Gītā does not merely teach what is to be done; it teaches how it is to be done. 'Katham' means 'in what manner?' This deserves careful attention. Arjuna then looked again at Kṛṣṇa Paramātma and said, 'Madhusūdana! Listen to me.' ⁸'Those standing in the foremost ranks of the opposing army are all supremely worthy of my reverence. Bhīṣma, our elder, took us in when we had no father, raised us, brought us up, and shaped us into what we are. He is like a father to me, indeed the great grandsire. And Droṇa! He loved me even more than his own son; though Aśvatthāma was the son born of his body, he raised me as a son of love, cherished me, trained me in the science of weapons, and made me proficient. Kṛṣṇa! Is it Dharma for a son of Bhārata such as I to use the very knowledge given by the Guru to confront and kill that Guru? Battle should be fought against enemies. But is it Dharma for You to tell me to fight those who are to me like father and Guru? You rebuke me, saying that if I do not fight my course will be asvargya, not leading to heaven; yet I cannot understand how killing one's Gurus leads to heaven. If the world followed such a rule, would any Gurus remain? Kṛṣṇa, say what You will: rather than kill such great souls and enjoy pleasure, wealth and desire, it would be better to beg at four doors. Better the thin gruel obtained by begging than food mixed with the blood of one's Gurus. And even if, abandoning all this, we fight, what assurance is there that we shall win? Trusting such an uncertain result, we may destroy everyone and lose both ways. If victory is theirs, we shall have to live by begging anyway. If victory is ours, it will still count as defeat, for we shall have to carry lifelong anguish for having slain our own relatives and friends. Kṛṣṇa! My Buddhi no longer works. Through this defect of kārpaṇya—this shrinking weakness—my very understanding and nature have changed. I am in a state where I no longer know what is Dharma and what is adharma.' ⁹'Dear one! My Kṣatriya blood and Your piercing words push me forward, but fear of the sin of killing those whom I revere pulls me back. I do not know what to do. Just as You drive this chariot, regard me too as a chariot: enter me and drive me Yourself. I no longer seek preyas, what is merely pleasing; I seek śreyas, what is truly for my highest good.' With this prayer Arjuna desired that from that moment Kṛṣṇa Paramātma should stand as Guru and he himself as disciple. ¹⁰Until he reached the battlefield, Arjuna's inner instrument had been filled with hostility. But when he stood between the two armies and saw Bhīṣma, Droṇa and the others in the enemy ranks, ready for battle, the heroic Arjuna was overcome by dejection. The tendencies of Kṛṣṇa and Arjuna now appeared opposed: what Kṛṣṇa Paramātma called Dharma, Arjuna began to argue was adharma. The cause was mamakāra and attachment. One vision was clear; the other was distorted by delusion. Arjuna fell completely into bhramā-dṛṣṭi, a vision of confusion, and suffered under ignorance. After reflecting for a while, he finally recognised within himself: 'Swami! The movements of possessiveness and hatred are not favourable to Jñāna.' Seeing his own error, he said, 'Mādhava! Nothing is clear to me. I shall act entirely according to Your will,' and entered the attitude of Śaraṇāgati. To recognise one's own mistake is the first virtue of a disciple. Human foolishness, by contrast, nourishes the ego that says, 'I know everything.'