In plain words
This very Ahaṅkāra is the root cause of his failing to follow Dharma. Move on, you,’ said Dharmaja. When they had gone a little further, Arjuna fell. ‘Brother! Arjuna has fallen,’ he said. ‘Bhīma! His own fault is the reason he fell,’ he said. What was his fault? ‘He took my feet, put his hand in mine, and gave his vow that he would slay the Kauravas within a single day. But he could not fulfil the vow he had given. So whoever gives a vow and breaks it has no right to follow Dharma. Walk on,’ he said. This, he said, was the root cause of his falling, of his not following Dharma. When they had gone a little further, Bhīma fell. “Brother! I cannot walk any more,” he shouted aloud. ‘My brother! Your own fault is the root cause of your failing to follow me,’ he said. ‘What is my fault?’ he pleaded. ‘You love nothing else the way you love food. Your life hangs on food. With this very food you built up your body. Looking at the strength of your body, the strength of your arms, the strength of your mace, you swelled with pride. So this is your fault. A life that hangs on food has its limit. There must be food, but to your food there is no limit at all. Dharma must be your food. When that is missing, none of these can protect you,’ he said. Dharmaja goes on without looking back. But from where it came, who knows, a dog keeps following him. As he walked on that way toward the Himālaya mountains, Indra brought a chariot there. ‘Dharmaja! From that day to this, your Dharma has never slipped in the least. Never straying from the path, following Dharma, you have guarded it in every circumstance. There is no pride in you, no twisted feeling that you have great power of intellect. Having given your word, you never forgot it. Equal-mindedness dances in you at all times. You did not live only for food. You sought food for your own sake. Your virtues are very pure and very lofty. Get into the chariot; go to Vaikuṇṭha,’ he said.