Showing posts with label YUDHISHTHIRA. Show all posts
Showing posts with label YUDHISHTHIRA. Show all posts

Friday, May 1, 2020

Living Bhagavad Gita 013: Arjuna Emotionally Hijacked



A series of short articles on the Bhagavad Gita for people living and working in our volatile, uncertain, complex and ambiguous times filled with stress and fear. This scripture born in a battlefield teaches us how to face our challenges, live our life fully, achieve excellence in whatever we do and find happiness, peace and contentment.

[Continued from the previous post.]
Arjuna seeing all the relatives gathered there was overcome by great compassion and said, “Seeing my kinsmen standing here eager for battle, my limbs are failing me, Krishna.  My mouth is dry, my body is shivering and my hair is standing on end. The gandiva is slipping from my hand, my skin is burning, my head is reeling and I am unable even to stand steady.” BG 1.27-30
Kamboji is a brilliant Malayalam movie based on a widely published real incident that happened in Kerala in my younger days. It is the story of a man named Kunjunnni besotted with the highly sophisticated performing art kathakali which takes years of training to master. Kathakali is what Kunjunni lives for, all his dreams are about it. He has seen the great masters of the art performing and what he wants to become is what they are.
At a rather advanced age to learn kathakali, he comes to the guru he adores most and begins studying under him in his small school in a remote village. He is soon recognized as highly talented and almost fully accomplished in the art. A loving father-son relationship soon develops between the guru and his disciple. After some time the aged guru hands over the kathakali school to Kunjunni and goes away. Kunjunni is given a place to stay in the large house of the family that owns the school and soon their daughter Uma, herself an accomplished dancer, and Kunjunni develop love for each other.
The ugly face of jealousy now enters the picture and the village prostitute is bribed to accuse Kunjunni of making her pregnant. Without allowing him to say a word in his defense, he is asked to leave the school and go away immediately. It is the girl of the house who asks him to leave, her parents being away, thus bringing to an instant end his dream of becoming a great kathakali artiste and teacher as well as living the rest of his life with the girl as his wife. He rushes to his teacher – but the teacher too drives him away accusing him of shaming him. All these things happen in the first half of a single night, driving Kunjunni insane with pain and loss. In a state of fuming rage, Kunjunnni goes to the home of the prostitute and stabs her to death.
What happened to Kunjunni that night is what is called an emotional hijack. Under normal circumstances Kaunjunni wouldn’t harm an insect, but under the impact of the emotional hijack he brutally kills a woman. 
Modern psychology speaks of emotional hijacks as states in which we are completely taken over by our emotions, our thinking and reason are suspended, our intelligence itself is blocked by the amygdala glands in our brain and we either go wild and do the craziest things or collapse helplessly under the burden of our emotions, paralyzed, unable to stand on our legs, our body drained of all energy, our mind losing all clarity.
It is Daniel Goleman, famous for his masterly books on Emotional Intelligence and Social Intelligence who coined the term amygdala hijack. As Goleman explains, even though evolution has taken us a long way ahead, we still retain within our brain the amygdala, an almond-shaped mass of nuclei, one in each of our brains, the left and the right. The amygdala is essentially a survival tool and what it does is to instantly respond to threats. Thinking takes time, assessing a threatening situation takes time but the amygdala that functions based on memories, instincts and impulses does not. The amygdala is fast, really fast, whereas our intelligence is not.
For instance, if we are driving on a fast road and all on a sudden another driver cuts in from a side road, our response to it has to be instant. If it is left to the intelligence to take a decision and then respond, it would try to assess the distance between the two vehicles, their speeds and so on. But the amygdala gives the order for instant action and your foot goes up from the accelerator and comes down on the break without any loss of time. 
However, this system designed for instant action has its weaknesses too. Since actions are taken before thorough assessments are made, they can often be wrong. Also, the amygdala does not differentiate between real threats and imagined threats. The amygdala reads a threat to the body or life and a threat to the ego – an emotional threat – the same. And, unless we are in control, guided by the amygdala we react the same way to a physical threat and an emotional threat. We experience increased heart rate and blood pressure, our breathing becomes quicker, faster and shallower, our body begins to shake, we sweat, our thinking brain is shut off and we respond to the situation with an instant and intense unconscious reaction produced by our emotional brain, sometimes frightening ourselves as in the case of Kunjunni.
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We saw how what Arjuna sees and what Duryodhana sees are very different, though they are looking at the same thing. To the power-intoxicated, war mongering Duryodhana the people assembled in the battlefield are fierce warriors whereas to Arjuna they are grandfathers, fathers, sons, uncles, nephews, brothers, gurus and so on, all his own people. And his limbs suddenly fail him, his mouth dries up, his body trembles, his hairs stand on end, his grip on his bow goes lose, his skin burns all over and his mind reels. He is unable even to stand, let alone fight. All these are typical signs of an emotional hijack.   
The Mahabharata speaks of several emotional hijacks. Later, during the war, when Abhimanyu is killed, for instance, such is Arjuna’s pain in spite of all Krishna’s teachings that undergoes another emotional hijack. On another occasion during the war Yudhishthira, defeated and humiliated by Karna, experiences an emotional hijack. He loses all control over himself and insults Arjuna’s prowess in war and his celestial bow gandiva leading to Arjuna taking a vow to kill him.
A young man was once sent to me by his father who had attended one my emotional intelligence workshops for corporate executives. The son used to work for a multinational company and was under tremendous pressure to perform for a boss obsessed with deadlines and constantly growing targets. Over time unable to manage his work stress, the young man developed low blood sugar, a physical condition ideal for emotional hijacks, and in that condition losing control over his emotions he exploded at his boss, shouting at him, abusing him and publicly humiliating him, which cost him his job. His father wanted me to help him master his emotions so that such situations did not arise in the future.
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One of the greatest lessons the Bhagavad Gita teaches us is samatvam, remaining balanced under all circumstances. Again and again, throughout his teachings, Krishna stresses the importance of samatvam and asks Arjuna to remain balanced in victory and failure, praise and censure, gain and loss, while dealing with enemies and friends. In spite of what the situation is and who you are dealing with, remaining mentally balanced is absolutely essential.  A warrior who is intimidated by the situation and loses his mental balance has no chance of victory, whether he is in a real battlefield or in a corporate one.
For success in any endeavour, we need what Krishna calls vyavasayatmika buddhi, mind that is resolute and one pointed. And that is possible only if our minds are steady and undisturbed by thoughts of success and failure, or any distracting thoughts for that matter, while engaged in doing something. That is why Krishna asks us to remain unaffected by thoughts of victory and failure while engaged in action.
Krishna does not mean pleasure and pain are the same, gain and loss are the same. What he means is none of these should make us lose our balance of mind. We have to remain unperturbed, collected and composed, fully in control, while we are acting if we are to succeed.
Which does not mean we should not celebrate when victory comes. The Mahabharata shows us Krishna celebrating joyously victories, for instance after Karna used on Ghatotkacha his all powerful, never failing shakti called Vaijayanti given to him by Indra. The shakti could be used only once, Karna had been keeping it for use against Arjuna, and Krishna was happy beyond words it had been used against Ghatotkcha and Arjuna was safe from it, which called for celebration.      
Krishna makes the importance of remaining balanced and not getting carried by our emotions absolutely clear repeatedly throughout the Gita. In spite of that, unless we have an open mind it is easy to misunderstand him. I remember an occasion when I was explaining to a large group of senior business school students the importance of remaining sama in all circumstances using a verse from the Gita when one of the students objected and asked me rather aggressively how we could deal with enemies and friends the same. She asserted she would never do that, she was going to deal with friends the way friends should be dealt with, and with enemies the way enemies should be dealt with.
Well, the Gita does not ask us to deal with enemies and friends the same. For instance, Krishna certainly does not want Arjuna to treat the warriors on his side and the warriors on the enemy side the same. You should stand with the people on your side and support them; and with those on the enemy side, you should fight. What Krishna says is that you should do this with a balanced mind, with a calm mind, centered and focused, without letting your emotions carry you away, without giving your emotions a free reign to take your decisions for you.
An HR manager, for instance, will have to take tough decisions against a corrupt person, whatever his feelings for him. To fail to do so will be to fail as a responsible manager. A person who is habitually unpunctual, who is lazy, who consistently shirks his responsibilities, will have to be dealt with as he deserves in spite of the fact that he may be your friend or nephew and you love him. But you should do it with a calm mind, and not in anger or vengefulness. That is what samata or samatvam means.  
We are familiar with the story of how Krishna killed his cousin Shishupala. Right from the beginning Shishupala was abusive of Krishna and Krishna quietly endured it all, never reacting. He had promised Shishupala’s mother, who was Krishna’s aunt, that he would not do anything against her son until he crossed a hundred occasions of insulting him.  There were numerous occasions that called for punitive action by Krishna but it was only when he went beyond all limits during Yudhishthira’s rajasuya sacrifice that Krishna acted against him, reminding him that he has crossed the limit of one hundred instnces. Before doing so, Krishna had warned him again and again. That is samatvam.
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In the battlefield of life, we all need control over our mind, control over our emotions, and should be able to resist the tendency of emotions to hijack us. Emotions are like the horses that pull the chariot of our life, and we should keep our mastery over them unless we are to end up in the nearest gutter or in a hospital.
Meditation is a powerful way of developing control over the mind and not letting our emotions hijack us. Practicing mindfulness while engaged in all kinds of activities like having a cup of coffee, taking a walk, trying to solve a tough problem, having a conversation with someone, or, to use some traditional examples, mowing the garden, splitting wood, or pulling up water from a well, helps us develop mastery over the mind. The Shiva Sutras, a book of Kashmir Shaivism frequently considered to be among the most advanced books on meditation and spirituality, asks as to be constantly mindful.
Regular practice of deep breathing can be very helpful. The first thing an emotional hijack affects is our breathing – it becomes rapid and shallow. So if we can keep breathing deeply – breathe abdominally, allowing our abdomen to expand and shrink as we breathe in and out, and not from the chest by holding our stomach tight – it will be of immense help. No emotional hijack is possible so long as our breathing is abdominal.
Arjuna’s grandson Parikshit is an unforgettable reminder to us for what happens when we are emotionally hijacked. He was on a hunting trip chasing a deer, was tired, hungry and drained of all energy. The deer had disappeared and seeing a rishi sitting in meditation nearby, he asks him if he had seen it. Unknown to Parikshit, the rishi, Shamika by name, was observing mauna, a vow of silence, and does not respond to the king’s repeated questions. Losing control over himself, Parikshit does the unthinkable: he picks up a dead snake he finds nearby and drapes it around the rishi’s neck, something no sane man would do, something unimaginable in a Bharata king, unless he had lost all control over his emotions, unless, to use the modern expression, he had been emotionally hijacked. When the rishi’s son Shringi later learns about the incident nd curses Parikshit to die within seven days. And that is how Parikshit loses his life.
One of the most brilliant examples for a woman who amazes us with her self-mastery is Draupadi in the dice hall of Hastinapura during what is perhaps the most shameful incident in all of Indian history. Wagered and lost by her husband in the game he was playing with Duryodhana, this magnificent woman is brought dragged into the dice hall by her hair from the women’s quarters of the palace by Dusshasana. There Karna calls her a prostitute for living with five men. Duryodhana calls her a slave and revealing his naked left thigh asks her to come and sit on it as though she was a common whore, while her husbands remain helpless spectators to the whole monstrous incident. On the orders of Karna, Dusshasana tries to disrobe her in that assembly of men that included her husbands, their cousins, her father-in-law, men like grandsire Bhishma and guru Drona and scores of other kings come to watch the dice game. And all this happens when she was in her monthly period and as custom required in those days was wearing a single piece of cloth. In spite of all this, she retains mastery over her emotions and has the presence of mind to ask if she had really become a slave to Duryodhana since her husband had already lost himself when he wagered her.
Not once does she allow her emotions to hijack her throughout the whole incident. When her appeals to the elders in the assembly fail, she prays to Krishna for help and is miraculously saved. Following the miracle and the terrible omens that began appearing everywhere, a terrified Dhritarashtra begs her for forgiveness. He then asks her to ask for boons and she asks for just two boons, first that Yudhishthira be freed from slavery and then that her other husbands who had also become slaves in the dice game be released from slavery and given their weapons and chariots. Asked to ask for still more boons, this woman, dignity personified, says no, saying a kshatrani is entitled to ask for only two boons and she has already asked for them.  And then she adds calmly that if her husbands are freed and have their weapons with them, then she does not need anything else, giving us goosebumps as we read of it after five thousand years, making us to want to stand up and clap for her from across five millennia.
Krishna teaches Arjuna throughout the Bhagavad Gita the importance of such self-mastery. He teaches him through the words of his divine song how to develop such self-mastery even in the middle of the most challenging situations. Through Arjuna, he teaches us how to fight the battles of our life without surrendering to feverishness, in full mastery of ourselves, without allowing emotional hijacks to overpower us – so that victory and glory are ours.    
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Photo courtesy: Devender Malhotra

Thank you in advance for your questions and comments. 


Wednesday, April 8, 2020

Living Bhagavad Gita 012: What was in the War for Krishna?




A series of short articles on the Bhagavad Gita for people living and working in our volatile, uncertain, complex and ambiguous times filled with stress and fear. This scripture born in a battlefield teaches us how to face our challenges, live our life fully, achieve excellence in whatever we do and find happiness, peace and contentment.

[Continued from the previous post]

At the end of the previous article we saw how Krishna wanted to destroy the philosophy that people could be used as a means to your egoistic goals, that people are expendable. The philosophy that considered power as the ultimate goal, power as an end in itself, was anathema to Krishna. He knew that power for the sake of power or power for the privileges it can give you was a danger to the world.
The Mahabharata states clearly that kingship came into being to serve the weak, to protect the weak from exploitation by the strong, to destroy what the epic calls the matsya nyaya or the fish-eat-fish philosophy, the way of life in which big fish eat small fish. To the epic, service to his subjects is the ultimate aim of the king, his raison d’etre. It considers this aim to be so noble that it asks rhetorically: What shall a king do with tapas, or with religious vows or sacrificial rituals? The king who has looked after his subjects well has already achieved the results of all sacrifices and rituals.
kim tasya tapasaa raajnah kim cha tasya adhvarairapi; supaalitaprajo yah syaat sarva-dharma-videva sah. [MB Shanti 69.73]
To the Mahabharata, this service to the people is his religion to the king – the highest spirituality, the highest yajna, yaga, homa, the highest everything sacred. There is nothing more sacred than service to the people. If the king has served his people, he has achieved the results of all sacred acts, all sacred rituals, it said.
The Mahabharata does not stop there. It says that for the king his personal likes should seize to be his likes if they are against the good of his people; and even if he does not like to do something, if it is for the good of his people, that is what he should do. The greatest rulers this land has known, like Rama, believed in this and practiced it. Some of his actions we vociferously criticize today were based on this philosophy. He himself did not matter to him, his likes and dislikes did not matter to him, his deepest feelings did not matter to him, his personal pain and agony did not matter to him, if he believed an action would do good to his people he went ahead and did that.  
The Mahabharata considered the garbhini, the pregnant woman, as the highest ideal for a ruler and said: Just as a pregnant woman gives up the things that are to her liking and does what is good for the baby in her womb, so too should a king, without a doubt, give up his pleasures and do whatever is for the good of his subjects. He should totally give up his own likes and do whatever is for the good of the world.
yathaa hi garbhinee hitvaa svam priyam manaso’anugam |
garbhasya hitam aadhatte tathaa raajnaapy asamshayam || 
vartitavyam kurushreshtha nityam dharmaanuvartinaa |
svam priyam samabhityajya yadyal-lokahitam bhavet || MB Shanti 56.45-46||
Chanakya of course came long, long after the Mahabharata times. But he, the genius behind the founding of the Maurya empire, too considered the job of the king as service to his people. Comparing the king’s job with the most sacred thing known to India in his days, a Vedic yajna, Chanakya says in the Arthashastra:  To a king, “readiness to action is his religious vow [vrata]; continuous discharge of duties is his performance of sacrifice [yajna]; equal attention to all is the offer of fees to the priests [dakshina]”.
According to Chanakya: In the happiness of his subjects lies the happiness of the king; in their welfare his welfare; whatever pleases himself he shall not consider as good, but whatever gives happiness to his subjects he shall consider as good.” [prajaasukhe sukham raajnah, prajaanaam cha hite hitam; na aatmapriyam hitam raajnah, prajaanaam tu priyam hitam // Artha 01.19.34//] [Shama Shastry translation]
All his life Krishna fought to bring this philosophy of kingship as service to the people back into the political life of the day, into the leaders of his times. He sided with the Pandavas because he saw in them the possibility of leadership becoming for the service of the people, unlike Duryodhana who was obsessed with power for himself, would do anything to achieve it and wouldn’t let anyone or anything stand in the way of his attaining it. Duryodhana loved himself too much to live for others.
A narcissistic leader does not serve others. He serves only himself, whether he is the head of a family, a corporate house, a political organization or a nation. Personal glory is his aim, not service to others. That is why if you have a narcissistic leader at the head of an organization, the organization is doomed. His first thought is always how something will benefit him, not how it will benefit others. A leader has to put the others first, not himself or herself.  
There were several powerful kings in the Mahabharata times who believed in Duryodhana’s philosophy. In those times kings in general had become power greedy –in the words of Sanjaya, they had become “like dogs that snatch meat from one another.”  It is them that Krishna fought to destroy throughout his life and the Mahabharata war too was fought for no different purpose, at least not from Krishna’s standpoint.

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Though the war was fought to counter this philosophy and to reestablish that leadership is service, to lead is to serve and a leader should live for others, especially for the weak, it did involve a throne. What throne was it? Was it the throne of a small kingdom, or was it the throne of the entire India, then known as Bharatavarsha? Let’s take a quick look at the Mahabharata to find this out.
Chapter IX of the Bhishma Parva of the Mahabharata is a discussion of what Bharata or Bharatavarsha is. Dhritarashtra calls the land for which his son Duryodhana and the Pandavas are fighting the war Bharatavarsha and asks his minister and companion Sanjaya for a description of it. In response, Sanjaya describes the mountains of this land, the rivers, the people living on this land and so on.
Important among the mountains that Sanjaya names are Mahendra, Malaya, Sahya, Shuktiman, Rakshavan, Vindhya and Paripatra, which are called the seven kula mountains. Besides these he says there are thousands of other mountains that are part of this land.
He then names the rivers of Bharata: Ganga, Sindhu, Saraswati, Godavari, Krishna, Narmada and Yamuna; Dhrishadwati, Vipasha, Vetravati, Iravati, Vitasta, Payoshni, Gomati, Gandaki, Sarayu, Charmanwati Vetravati; Kaveri, Bhima, Oghavati, Asikni, Vidisha, Varuna, Asi and Nila  Sanjaya mentions scores of other rivers by name, but this short selection will serve our purpose.   
As we can see, even this list contains rivers from every part of India, not just from the Kuru land or Kuru Jangala. The Iravati mentioned here is the river that flows through what was then Brahmadesha, Burma for the British and now Myanmar. Godavari and Krishna flow through today’s Andhra Pradesh, Kaveri through Tamil Nadu and Nila flows through Kerala, a river more widely known by the local name Bharatapuzha. Locate these rivers on a map and you will find that they cover all of modern India and much more.
Sanjaya now describes Bharata as the land where the following people are living: the Kuru Panchalas, Panchalas proper, Madras, Shurasenas, Kalingas, Matsyas, Kashis, Kosalas, Chedis, Karushas, Bhojas, Sindhus, Dasharnas, and the Utkalas; the Keralas, Shakas, Angas, Vangas, Abhiras, Kekayas, Andhras, Pundras; the Kashmiras, Tamraliptas, Malavas, Dravidas, Karnatakas, Cholas.....  Sanjaya’s list goes on and on describing scores of other people living on this land called Bharata.
Interestingly he mentions the Mushakas on his list. The Mushakas, or Mushikas, were a dynasty of people who ruled northern Kerala long ago. There is an epic poem in Sanskrit called Mushaka Vamsha Kavya, authored by the poet Atula in the 11th century CE.
The description of the different peoples living in Bharata includes the Kiratas – they are the people of what we today call Tibet, an independent nation until 1954 and occupied by China since then.  Just like Tibet, Bahlika mentioned on the list is also no more part of Bharata. It is the place we know today as Balkh, a province of Afghanistan.
So this is the land for which the Mahabharata war was being fought according to Ch. X of the Bhishma Parva of the epic.
All this land had been brought both under the Pandava rule through conquests while they were ruling from Indraprastha, also known as Khandavaprastha.  Just before Yudhishthira’s rajasuya, Krishna, accompanied by Bhima and Arjuna, goes to Jarasandha and has the emperor killed, the eighty-six kings imprisoned by him released and Jarasandha’s virtuous son Sahadeva crowned king in his father’s place. Informed of the rajasuya Yudhishthira plans to perform, all these kings give Krishna their joyous assurance of going along with Yudhishthira. They go to Indraprastha along with Krishna, Bhima and Arjuna and pay their respects to Yudhishthira. After they depart, Krishna and the Pandavas have discussions with Yudhishthira and plan the digvijaya, conquest of all kings of the land as required by the rajasuya.  
Soon Arjuna proceeds in the northern direction and subjugates all kings in that direction. The epic mentions these kings by name one after another, in the order in which Arjuna conquered them. At the same time, Bhima proceeds in the eastern direction and conquers all the kings there. Sahadeva proceeds in the southern direction and conquers all the kings there, going right up to what is now Rameshwaram, from where he sends messengers to Lanka. The only serious challenge Sahadeva had on his long journey south was from King Nila of Mahishmati, about which we are told the fascinating story of an adulterous affair between Nila’s daughter and the god Agni, their subsequent marriage and Agni’s protection given to the king. On Sahadeva’s way to the extreme south, we are specifically told of his conquest of the Kalingas, the Andhras, and the Dravidas.  Later, after receiving tributes from the king of Lanka, Sahadeva returns to Indraprastha. 
Nakula proceeds in the western direction and conquers all the kings in that direction. Interestingly, one of the kingdoms that accepted his sway was Krishna’s Dwaraka. Nakula sends messengers to Krishna’s father Vasudeva and Vasudeva with all the Yadavas accepts his overlordship. Next, approaching Madra, he sends messengers to his uncle Shalya and Shalya, of course, happily accepts the sway of the Pandavas – out of affection, adds the Mahabharata. Nakula also conquers the Mleccha kingdoms on the western sea coast  such as the Yavanas and Shakas.  
The four brothers had thus brought within Yudhishthira’s overlordship all the kings in all the four directions of the land – north, east, south and west, thus making Yudhishthira the emperor of the entire land from the Himalayas to the southern sea. So it was not just the kingdom of Indraprastha that Yudhishthira lost in the dice game, but also lordship over all the kingdoms that the four brothers had conquered on his behalf.
The Mahabharata war was fought for all of India – all of Bharatavarsha, an India much larger than today’s India. It was throughout the length and breadth of this land that Krishna wanted kings to rule people based on the philosophy that kingship is service to the people.
We have a modern name for leadership as service: servant leadership. This style of leadership which was the very heart of Indian leadership philosophy, in which kings considered themselves the dasas, servants, of the people they ruled, was reinvented in the west in modern times by Robert Greenleaf. Greenleaf’s inspirations were Krishna, Jesus and Leo, a character in Journey to the East by Nobel Prize winner Herman Hesse, who himself was inspired deeply by India. Today servant leadership is fast growing as a leadership approach, many leading industrial and business houses across the world following it, including South West Airlines, the world’s largest low-cost carrier. I have taught servant leadership as a leadership approach in one of the leading business schools in the country to several batches of students over many years and have also given lectures to officers from various corporate houses of the country, including the Tatas.
Krishna wanted all kings across India to be servant leaders. It is for this that he fought wars with many arrogant kings of the land, it is for this that he helped Yudhishthira perform the rajasuya sacrifice and become the samrat, and it is for this that Krishna supported the Pandavas against Duryodhana. This is the dharma yuddha, war for dharma, Krishna was talking about, the purpose for which he took incarnation. He wanted kings to serve their people. Service to the people was rajadharma as Krishna understood it.

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This description of Bharatavarsha in the Mahabharata is also an answer to those who say that it was the British that for the first time brought India under one rule, that the very concept of India as a nation owes its existence to the British. India as a separate entity has existed for several thousand years before the arrival of the British in India, speaking of which the Vishnu Purana says: The land that lies north of the [southern] sea and south of the Himalayas, that is called Bharata and the people living there are called Bharati[yas].
uttaram yat samudrasya, himaadres chaiva dakshinam; varsham tad bharatam naama, bhaaratee yatra santati.  
Of course, the political set up we had in the Mahabharata days was different. We believed in a federal system rather than in centralized administration – a federal system in which each kingdom had its independence but accepted the overlordship of an emperor, called a samrat or a chakravatri, to whom he paid tributes. Later in modern historical times too, such as under Ashoka and under Chadragupa Maurya, we had most of India under a single emperor’s rule, as did Akbar have most of India under his rule centuries before the British became the rulers of India. Under the British too several independent kingdoms existed in India, though they all paid tributes to the British, exactly as independent kings paid tributes to Yudhishthira in his days.

Besides, this condition of ancient India existing as several independent kingdoms is not a unique condition in world history. In fact, that is how most large countries were in ancient days. The historian Sarah Bradford’s celebrated book Lucrezia Borgia:  Life, Love and Death in Renaissance Italy, for instance, begins by describing how Italy at that time was more a geographical expression than a country.  She says:  

“At the time of Lucrezia Borgia’s birth in 1480, Italy was famously a geographical expression rather than a country, a peninsula divided into independent states bound by the weakest sense of common nationality. Neapolitans, Milanese and Venetians were Neapolitans, Milanese and Venetians first and foremost: the concept of Italy as a political whole did not exist beyond a vague xenophobia in which non-Italians were perceived as barbarians...
“The principal Italian states in the late fifteenth century were (from north to south) Milan, ruled by the Sforza family; Venice, a merchant empire ruled by an oligarchy of patrician families headed by a doge; Florence, then ruled by the Medici as a hereditary despotism in the person of Piero, son of Lorenzo the Magnificent; the Papal States, the temporal dominion of the Pope whose authority in practice was devolved to ‘papal vicars’, principally the Este of Ferrara, but including smaller city states such as Bologna, Rimini, Pisa, Siena, Camerino, Forlì, Faenza and Pesaro, where families such as the Bentivoglio, the Malatesta, the Petrucci, the Varani, the Riarii and the Manfredi held sway. Mantua was held as a fief of the Holy Roman Empire by the Gonzaga family.”

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Photo courtesy: Devender Malhotra
Thank you in advance for your questions and comments.

Thursday, March 26, 2020

Living Bhagavad Gita 009: Gudakesha



A series of short articles on the Bhagavad Gita for busy, stressed people living and working in these volatile, uncertain, complex and ambiguous times. This scripture born in a battlefield teaches us how to face our challenges, live our life fully and achieve excellence in whatever we do.
[Continued from the previous post]
sanjaya uvaacha
evamukto hrisheekesho gudaakeshena bhaarata
senayorubhayormadhye sthaapayitwaa rathottamam
bheeshma-drona-pramukhatah sarveshaam cha maheekshitaam
uvaacha paartha pashyaitaan samavetaan kuroon iti // 1.24-25 //
Sanjaya said: O Bharata, thus told by Gudakesha, Hrishikesha took the magnificent chariot between the two armies and stopping it facing Bhishma and Drona and other kings said,“Arjuna, see the assembled Kurus.”

Sanjaya calls Arjuna gudakesha here.Gudakesha literally means isha of gudaka, conqueror of sleep. Amarakosha, the ancient Sanskrit thesaurus, says: nidraa gudaaka samproktaa – sleep is called gudaaka. According to the tradition of the Puranas, it was Shiva who first referred to him by this name because he did tapas to please the Lord and to get the Pashupata weapon from him on the Indrakila Mountain without sleeping. Another meaning of the word gudakesha is with curly hair, guda meaning kutila, curled and kesha meaning hair. I like better the meaning ‘conqueror of sleep’ that describes Arjuna as the warrior ascetic who meditated on Shiva without sleep – vinidrena.
The word gudaka also stands for other things closely related to sleep, such as lethargy, dullness, inertia, lack of energy, apathy and so on – all of which are qualities associated with tamas, one of the three gunas. The Arjuna we see in the Mahabharata is the opposite of what these mental and physical qualities describe. There is very little tamas in him. He is always full of energy, zeal, passion and drive. He is a typical kshatriya – his dominant guna being rajas, with sattva as his secondary guna and tamas as the third guna. [There is nothing in existence that is not made of these three gunas, except the purusha, the indwelling soul. na tad asti prithivyaam vaa divi deveshu vaa punah
sattvam prakritijair muktam yad ebhih syaat tribhir gunaih. BH 18.40]
Arjuna is an outstanding example for excellence in his chosen area. This would not have been possible unless he was a conqueror of dullness, lethargy and other negative qualities that the word gudaka stands for.
In Zen, we speak about shoshin, the Zen mind, described as the beginner’s mind or the child’s mind, speaking of which the famous modern teacher of Zen,Shunryu Suzuki in a celebrated statement says:”In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, in the expert’s mind, few.”
A person with shoshin sees things with an open mind and fresh eyes, as a beginner does. Such a person is full of intelligence, creativity, resourcefulness, childlikeness, spontaneity, authenticity and autonomy. His mind is full of receptivity, curiosity, resilience, perseverance, freedom, newness and other similar qualities.
From what we learn about Arjuna from the Mahabharata, he clearly had a Zen mind that leads to excellence. One of the definitions of yoga that Krishna gives in the Gita is: yogah karmasu kaushalam. The word kaushalam is a variation of the word kushalata, expertise or excellence, and the complete definition means yoga is excellence in action. If Arjuna was the best archer of the day, perhaps the best archer in the history of India barring Rama whose name Krishna takes in the Vibhooti Yoga of the Gita as the best bowman ever – raamah shastrabhrtaam varah – he should have had the qualities of shoshin, the Zen mind.
O0O
Gudakesha in this sense is someone with a Zen mind, or in Indian terms, the yogic mind. One of the ways of practicing yoga that India has always recommended and the Bhagavad Gita itself recommends is focusing on the now, focusing on whatever you are doing at the moment. Arjuna definitely did that.
Arjuna’s focus on what he is doing at the moment is legendary. In a story practically every Indian child grows up with is that of Arjuna’s focus on what he is doing at the moment. The story tells us of Acharya Drona arranging a test for his students sometime towards the end of their studies. The acharya had a wooden bird secretly made up on a tree. One day he takes all his students there and beginning with Yudhishthira, the eldest, calls one student at a time and asks him to take aim at the bird. When Yudhishthira has taken his aim, Drona asks him if he can see the neck of the bird, which he had been asked to aim at and Yudhishthira answers, “Yes, Acharya, I can.”
The acharya then asks him if he can see the whole bird and Yudhishthira says again, “Yes, Acharya, I can.” Then the acharya asks if he can see the branch on which the bird is perched, and then if he can see the whole tree and then if he can see the other students and if he can see all of these at the same time – the whole bird, the branch, the whole tree, the other students, all. “Yes, Acharya, I can,” says Yudhishthira. All the time, without Yudhishthira knowing it, Drona’s face is growing darker and darker. Finally the acharya asks, “Can you see me too, with all these?” And Yudhishthira answers, “Yes, Acharya, I can.” It is then Drona explodes in anger, “Drop the bow and get away! Apasarpa! You can’t hit it! Naitat shakyam tvayaa veddhum!”
The acharya gives this test to all the other princes and all of them fail in satisfying him. It is only then he calls Arjuna who picks up the bow, takes aim at the neck of the bird and stands ready. “Can you see the neck of the bird?” Drona now asks Arjuna and he says, “Yes, Acharya, I can.” “The whole bird,” asks the acharya and Arjuna answers, “No, Acharya. Just the neck of the bird.” For the first time a smile appears on the face of Drona. He says, “Let go of the arrow.” And the next instant the head of the wooden bird falls on the ground with a thud, neatly chopped by Arjuna’s arrow.
Arjuna knew how to focus on the now, focus on whatever he was doing at the moment, focus on one thing at a time, whether it was the neck of the bird, his studies, his life’s goal of becoming the best archer in the world, or getting the Pashupata astra from Lord Shiva and other divine weapons from the gods, or learning dance and music from the gandharva Chitraratha because he had conquered lethargy, dullness, inertia, lack of energy, apathy and so on. 
O0O
Speaking of gudaka in the specific sense of sleep, not only did Arjuna conquer sleep as an ascetic meditating on Shiva on Mount Indrakila but also as a student. Not content with practicing during the day as the other students of Acharya Drona did, he continued his practices in the night too, due to his commitment to learning.
The Mahabharata tells us that once Guru Drona instructed the gurukula cook not to serve any meal to Arjuna in the dark. When we read that, we wonder why the acharya would say something like that to his cook but his crooked reason becomes clear as the story progresses.
One day while Arjuna was having his supper, a strong wind came and the lamps were blown out. Arjuna continued eating in the dark. That night what the acharya had feared happened. At midnight, he was woken up from sleep by the loud, booming sound of the bow string being released. Coming out, the acharya saw that Arjuna was practicing shooting in the dark.
From his eating in the dark, young Arjuna had deduced that just as he can eat in the dark, he can also shoot in the dark, without seeing the target. And he was already a master of sleep, so he was practicing and mastering at night the new insight he had gained in the evening!
The reason why Drona had told his cook not to serve a meal to Arjuna – specifically and only to Arjuna – in the dark now becomes clear. It was precisely to prevent this eventuality that with a cunning mind the acharya had given that instruction. Until that day Drona did not want Arjuna to excel in archery or to become his best student. It was his own son Ashwatthama that the acharya wanted to become his best student.
But now Drona, inspired by Arjuna’s commitment and dedication to learning, shows the nobility to appreciate what Arjuna was and hugging him promise that he will now see that Arjuna becomes his best student. 
O0O
Of course, conquering sleep does not mean not sleeping at all. Sleep is perhaps man’s greatest blessing, the relaxer, the healer, the restorer, the rejuvenator. It is the greatest therapy in existence. It is the ultimate performance enhancer, the reason why our grandparents advised us to get a good night’s sleep before exams. Innumerable people have gone to bed with problems they are not able to solve in their minds and woken up with clear solutions. As someone put it, a culture of working until we are fatigued and then working through that fatigue are stealing one of our most vital natural health resources. The largest number of accidents on the road or in workplaces happens because people are sleep deprived.
Lack of sleep means poor intelligence, poor memory, poor creativity, greater edginess, increased impulsiveness, poor judgment, poor digestion, greater stress, increased hostility levels, inability to trust resulting poor interpersonal relations and a hundred other negative conditions. After even a short nap you feel mentally clearer, sharper and more alert. Which is the reason why many leading organizations today provide for their workers a nap pod, as Google does.
That Arjuna was a master of sleep does not mean he did not sleep. What he had done could be to enter deep states of sleep quickly by training himself to relax deeply. Perhaps he had also learnt to take quick refreshing naps – shwana nidra – every now and then.
Sleep deprivation is one the greatest tortures known to man.
There used to be an ascetic in the city where I have been living for the last several decades. People claimed that he did not sleep for fourteen years. He used to walk up and down day and night between two parallel pipes some twelve feet long. Krishna makes it clear in the Gita that yoga is not for such people. He teaches that yoga is not for those who go to the extremes in anything. He says:
na atyashnatastu yogo'sti na chaikaantam anashnatah
na chaati swapnasheelasya jaagrato naiva cha arjuna // BG 6.16 //
Verily Arjuna, yoga is not for him who eats too much nor is it for him who eats not at all. It is not for him who sleeps too much nor for him who always remains awake.
This mastery over sleep – again not denial of sleep, but mastery over it – was always recommended highly for students. A famous ancient Sanskrit verse says:
kaakacheshtaa bakadhyaanam shwaananidraa tathaiva cha
alpaahaaree grihatyaagee vidyaarthee pancha-lakshanam
The endless curiosity and alertness of the crow, the deep focus of the stork, the short sleep of the dog, eating less and abandoning home – these are the five signs of a good student. Abandoning home here refers to students leaving their homes and going to gurukulas or ashrams, as they did in old times.
Mastery over sleep is a requirement today more than at any other time in the past. I have taught in three of the top business schools in the country. In these schools we had students not just from India, but from all over the world. When I was teaching a course in one of these business schools, we had in it students from some thirty different countries of the world. Such was the nature of their studies that they had to be masters of sleep. It is a requirement in today’s business schools and much more so in today’s corporate world where each one of them is expected to work endless hours in challenging conditions, switch tasks all the time, attend endless meetings that go on and on, and yet remain fresh throughout.
Sleep is an absolute necessity of the body and particularly of the brain and for that reason it is dangerous to deprive the body of sleep. Sleep does three things mainly: relax and rest the body, release healing hormones and growth hormones and strengthen immunity, and make possible the process we know as dreaming. It is an absolute necessity of the brain that we move from the beta state, in which most of us adults spend much of our waking time, to the alpha and theta states, if not to the delta state every day at least for some time. Prolonged deprivation of the experience of these deeply relaxed states makes us dysfunctional.
Deep meditation can enrich our sleep. Deep meditation does all that sleep does – relax and rest the body, release healing and growth hormones, strengthen immunity, and make something akin to dream possible through the images and memories that pass through the quiet mind. So one way of achieving mastery over sleep is to supplement it with deep meditation. You achieve greater strength and orderliness in brain functioning, greater cardiovascular efficiency, respiratory efficiency, neuromuscular efficiency, and stability of the autonomic nervous system and enhanced overall performance through deep meditation.
We must remember that according to the Mahabharata Arjuna was the yogi Nara reborn as a Pandava.  
O0O
Photo courtesy: Devender Malhotra
Thank you in advance for your questions and comments.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Draupadi: The Day of the Jackals 3


Continued from …2

Krishnaa could not believe this was happening. She the sacrifice-born princess, the pet of King Drupada, the adored sister of Shikhandin and Dhrishtadyumna, the darling of the entire Panchala, the wife of the five Pandava brothers, the queen of Indraprastha, has been brought into an assembly of kings and nobles dragged by her hair. She who had faced a similar assembly of men only once before in her life during her swayamvara, was now in the middle of these nobles, while in her monthly period, clad in one cloth. And Dushshasana was pulling even that cloth away from her!

Was it really happening? Or was this all a mere hallucination? Was this a nightmare from which she will soon wake up to find that nothing has changed, everything was as before, that she was still the queen of Indraprastha, that her husbands were still masters of a rich and powerful kingdom, that the dice game had never happened?

But she knew the answer. Dushshasana’s powerful hands were pulling her cloth away from her. Duryodhana and Karna were laughing in uncontrollable mirth.

“Slave, slave!” Words that horrified her. “Whore, whore!” Words that were like whiplashes on bare flesh.

O0O

She held the cloth tightly to herself.

Her eyes were roving mad in despair. Filled with mortal dread she looked frantically all around. This was worse than death. Yes, she would have preferred to die, rather than being denuded in this assembly, being subjected to what they were doing to her.
But, no. She was not going to give up. She was not going to lose to brute force, to insolent might. She was a kshatrani. Born to fight. Born to win. She doesn’t give up life’s battles.

And there was unfinished work left. Dushshasana will have to pay – pay with his life for what he was doing to her. Duryodhana will have to pay. Karna will have to pay.

Bhishma will have to pay and Drona will have to pay. Pay with their lives. And the blind Dhritarashtra will have to pay – with the loss of the lives of all he loved. “Has the wager been won?” he had asked again and again, every time something new was wagered. He too will have to pay.

“Slave, whore,” shouted Dushshasana as he tried to free her cloth from her hands that were clasping it to herself.

She held on with all her might. Looking once again into the eyes of the men in the assembly. Her husbands. Bhishma. Drona. Others.

Her eyes met no other eyes. Except the eyes of Dushshasana, Duryodhana and Karna. Lust filled eyes. Perverted eyes. Mad eyes. Mocking eyes. Eyes that had gone insane with depravity. Eyes that exulted in their sheer power over her.

And she knew no help was coming.

The world had begun to reel. Everything was moving in a haze, in an incredibly fast haze. The whole world was going round and round. And she was finding it more and more difficult to stand on her feet.

She held the cloth all the more tightly to herself. Her whole past was unrolling before her as in a fast drama, as before the eyes of a dying man. She saw her father, her brothers…

And then from among the faces one face became clear. Another dark face like hers. A handsome face. An irresistibly beautiful face. A face full of power. A face untouched by wickedness, untouched by corruption, untouched by weaknesses. A face that made promises. Untold promises. Promises that were whispered direct to your heart.

Promises that were made directly to your soul.

Those inviting, irresistible eyes. Eyes from which the smile never seemed to leave. Eyes that held you by their magnetic power. Eyes that could be flowers in one moment and diamonds in the other. Eyes that hid immense power. Eyes that could command the very elements of the earth.

The eyes of a yogeshwara.

A man who shared her name. And a million other things with her.

And she surrendered to that man. Surrendered to his strength. Surrendered to his power. Surrendered to his promises.

And immediately felt herself letting go. Felt herself relaxing. Felt a sense of relaxation flooding her. Felt herself surrendering to that relaxation.

Felt power surging through her. Power she knew was enough to make any enemy bend his knees. Power she knew was enough to make any enemy powerless.

It was a different kind of power. Not the kind of power that Dushshasana was exerting over her. Not even the kind of power that Bhima possessed. But a different kind of power. A very different kind of power. A totally different kind of power.

A power that won victories without fighting a battle.

She felt an ecstasy filling her. A rapture surging through her. Felt as though she was being born afresh. Coming into being, coming into existence, for the first time.
Suddenly the word alive had a different meaning. Suddenly she knew what it was to live.

Perhaps she had felt this before. A long time ago. She could not remember when but she was sure she had felt this before. Known this feeling before. This sense of being alive. Just alive. Being one with life. One with the world. One with existence.

The oceans were not different from her. The sky and the sun and the moon and the stars were not different from her. The mountains were not different from her. And the trees and shrubs and the grass were not different from her. The animals and the fishes and the trillion creatures were not different from her. They all shared a common existence with her.

She was their existence.

The sleepy infant suckling serenely at its mother’s breast as the young mother rested in a contented ecstasy – it was she.

The little village girl feeling the thrill of the first drop of rain on her as she slowly whirls around in the rain – it was she.

The tender young woman wearing that thin white cloth and bathing under the waterfall – it was she.

She was the beautiful princess who parted the curtains of her palanquin to give a smile to the little fawn who came gambolling and stood watching some distance.

She was the tall young man with a wiry body sleeping contentedly in his boat as it floated serenely down the Ganga.

She was the rapturous young woman in her young lover’s strong arms swooning in the power of their passion.

She was the small child standing on her father’s feet and laughing in wild pleasure as he tossed her up and down.

She was the sole pink bud on the bank of the mountain lake standing in still ecstasy as the butterfly hovered over it. She was the green parrot with the red beak perched on that dry tree while rain clouds moved serenely in the distance. She was the heady fragrance of burning camphor that filled the tiny shrine on the mountain slope, the intoxicating scent of lemon blossoms in the little garden in the heart of the valley. She was the haunting music of the flute that filled the valley.

And then she suddenly realized it – that smiling dark face, those irresistible eyes, they were hers.

It was she who had been carried in a basket across the Yamuna that storm-torn night! It was she who had stolen fresh butter from Yashoda’s pots in Vraja! It was she who had killed Putana, who had subdued Kaliya, who had played on her flute on the banks of the Yamuna maddening all of Vraja, who had danced with the cowherd girls in Vrindavana all night long. It was she who had killed Kansa, Shishupala.

She felt the power of the Sudarshana in her hand.

She had the power to annihilate. And she had the power to create. Unmesha-nimishotpanna-vipanna-bhuvanavali. As she opened her eyes, universes came into being, and as she closed them they dissolved back into her.

O0O

And then the tumult reached her. Excited, ecstatic voices were shouting all around her. There seemed to be a million voices. All filled with thrill, with wonder, with disbelief.

What were they shouting?

And then she heard it.

“A miracle! Look, a miracle! A miracle has happened!”

She slowly opened her eyes.

She had no idea when she had closed them.

She was still in the hall, she found.

Instantly she clutched her cloth to herself.

When had she let go of it?

But Dushshasana was no more pulling it away!

Where is he?

She looked around.

Lying all around her was a huge, huge pile of clothes. Clothes in myriad hews. Fine clothes. Beautiful clothes. Endless clothes. All around her. And she was standing in the middle of it all. Still clad in her single piece of cloth.

And at her feet sat Dushshasana. Tired, sweating, his eyes wild with another kindness of madness. The madness of incomprehension. And the fury of helplessness.
Govinda had come to her! Her Govinda! Her Krishna!

Closing her eyes, she once again lost herself in the ecstasy of it.

And then, opening her eyes, she stepped out of the pile of clothes.

O0O

“Get up, Dusshasana! Take the slave Krishnaa to the inner apartments!” It was Karna’s voice.

She couldn’t believe it! They were not finished with her yet!

“Wait,” Krishnaa said as Dushshasana began to pull her towards the door of the hall.
“There is a duty I have to perform to this august assembly, to the elders here. I could not do it when I came here first. I know the fault was not entirely mine. For I was in no condition to do it then.”

Dushshasana let go of Krishnaa. Clad in her soiled cloth, Draupadi stood erect and proud before the assembly of kings and elders. Her eyes were serene. Clad in that one piece of soiled cloth, she still looked an embodiment of poise and dignity, of feminine beauty and grace.

“Elders of the assembly,” she addressed them. “I grew up not seen even by the sun and the wind. Only once have I come before an assembly like this. On the occasion of my swayamvara. For that reason, forgive me my omission. I now bow before you deeply. Please accept my regards.”

There was silence in the hall.

“Having done that, I now ask you once again. Am I a slave or not? You must answer me this question.”

Seeing that no one was responding to her question, Bhishma stood up. In voice that was steady and clear, he spoke, praising Draupadi’s conduct. This is how a princess should be, he said. A princess even in the midst of the worst crisis in her life. Never losing her dignity, never losing her poise, her grace, even in the middle of unspeakably humiliating circumstances. “Daughter,” he said, “You make your father proud. You make your mother proud. You make me proud – for you belong to my family.”

Draupadi acknowledged him.

“As for your question,” he continued, “there is only one person here fully qualified to answer it. Yudhisthira. Let him answer it.”

As Bhishma sat down, the assembly waited for Yudhisthira to speak. Yudhishthira sat with his head hanging low, without a word.

An infuriated Bhima shouted: “Get me some fire, Sahadeva. I shall burn these accursed hands of Yudhishthira.”

Karna’s triunmphant laughter answered Bhima’s call.

Bhima had never in his life raised his voice against Yudhishthira, never spoken a word against him.

And when no response came from Yudhishthira, Duryodhana spoke.

“The princess of Panchala shall be freed if the four brothers say that Yudhisthira is not their master…or let Yudhisthira himself say he is not your lord, and I shall free you this very instant.”

The entire assembly applauded Duryodhana.

And yet Yudhisthira spoke not a word.

Instead it was the anger-filled, fury-filled, helplessness-filled words of Bhima that the assembly heard. “Yudhisthira is our lord and master,” said Bhima. “Had it not been so, remember, not one of the Dhartarashtras would have been alive today. You owe your life, every breath of it, to the fact that Yudhisthira is our lord.”

Bhimasena is not known for his ability to control himself. Not usually.

And then Karna spoke again. He spoke words filled with arrogance, with contempt, words that ill-fitted that august assembly.

Or maybe, perfectly befitting that assembly that had silently, without a word of protest, witnessed the attempt of a man to denude a helpless woman in their midst.

“Krishnaa Draupadi, the sons of Dhritarashtra are your masters now – no more the Pandavas. Go you to their inner apartments. Go you to the quarters of the slaves. And I also ask you to choose one of the Kauravas as your husbands. A slave belongs to the household to which she is bound. Her masters are the masters of that house. The vows of marriage are not for a slave. She chooses a man to father children in her as and when the need arises. Choose you a new husband now. I recommend all the Kauravas to you. All of them are physically strong, well built, and masters of themselves. What more does a slave woman need? Go ahead and choose any one of them to mate with and beget children.”

Duryodhana laughed uproariously at these words. Laughing still, he once again asked Yudhisthira to decide once for all whether Draupadi was won by him or not. And then, still laughing, he parted his clothes before the disbelieving eyes of the whole assembly and revealed his left thigh. His eyes holding Krishnaa’s eyes steadily, he struck at it loudly, repeatedly.

Struck thus, Duryodhana’s thigh, stout and strong, full of powerful muscles, looking like a pillar cast from iron, produced sounds like that of the thunder when rain cloud met rain cloud.

With utter disregard for all morality, for all values, Duryodhana had done the unthinkable in that assembly of elders. Showing his left thigh, the place for a wife or a mistress or a whore, a woman of pleasure, offering it publicly to a woman. With utter disregard to all laws of courtesy, to all decency.

To his own sister-in-law. To Krishnaa.

Bhima jumped up from his seat at this. His eyes emitted fire. His whole body trembled at this insult to Draupadi, insult to all of them. “For this act of yours, Duryodhana, for this ugly, horrid act of yours, I shall break that thigh of yours in battle. Hear me, all you who are assembled here, here me gods in heaven, hear me my ancestors – if I do not do that, let the worlds that are mine after death, be denied to me for ever.”

Dushshasana caught Krishnaa by her hair once again. And suddenly she turned to him in fury. She wanted to strike him, strike him down like lightning strikes down a mighty tree. In front of all the assembly. And she knew for certain she could do that. She knew she had the power to do that in herself. She felt power coursing through her.

But instead she pulled her hair free from his hand. Holding it up in her hands, Krishnaa spoke: “This hair of mine touched by this wretch shall from now remain open until the day it is smeared with living blood from the heart of this beast. This I vow by everything that I hold sacred.”

Her vow was followed by Bhima’s booming voice. “And I vow that I shall pluck off that evil arm that dragged Krishnaa by her hair. And I vow that I shall tear open the wicked heart of this monster and drink his living blood. If I do not, may the worlds of my ancestors be forever denied to me.”

And Krishnaa saw it clearly then. Dead bodies lay strewn in their thousands in a vast field. And in the middle of it all was the living, pulsating body of Dushshasana, lying on its back. And Bhima kept his foot over his body, plucked off his right arm and flung it away, roaring like a lion. Then he plunged his sword into that evil heart. Tearing open that chest, Bhima gathered blood from that wicked heart and raising his palms up, drank that blood. And then, not content, she saw him chop off the head of the monster in a single stroke and raise the severed head in the air. As blood flowed into his mouth, Vrikodara’s roar of pleasure and triumph terrified the thousands of onlookers, making them flee in terror.

And then the vision changed. The battlefield was the same, the multitudes of dead bodies were the same and Dushshasana’s body was there. But it was not Bhima who had his leg over its chest – it was she. She was standing with her left leg on Dusshasana’s chest. Her head was held high, in triumph and in her hand was a mighty trident. Fire emanated from her eyes – from all three of them. Her nostrils flared in exhilaration as she breathed in deeply the smell of blood. Blood was flowing like rivulets in the field.

The sound of beejamantras filled the air…. shreem…hreem… kreem… aim… kleem…
The mantras came to her from the ten directions, chanted by a million voices, in which past, present and future mingled, the voices of gods mingled with the voices of men and women. The seven matrikas and the sixty-four yoginis sang her praises.

Her hair danced in the fierce wind, like dark flames, like a thousand black cobras. She felt someone behind her. Two hands were gathering her hair together and smearing blood on it. Hot blood. Sweet smelling blood. Intoxicating blood. Dushshasana’s blood.
The hands began braiding her hair with infinite love, with infinite tenderness.
Were those Bhima’s hands? They had to be.

But suddenly she was sure they were not.

She had known those hands more intimately than she has known Bhima’s hands, than any other hands.

And then she knew. Those were hands she had known through a thousand births.

The hands of someone who had been her companion through ages.

She couldn’t mistake the hands of her Govinda.

O0O

Vidura’s voice brought her back to the reality of the Dice Hall. In another vain attempt, he got up once more and declared that he considered Draupadi not won.

No one deemed it necessary to respond to Vidura’s words.

And then Arjuna spoke. He was talking to the assembly for the first time on that evil day.
His words were brief and simple. He turned the question over to the Kauravas. “Let the Kauravas decide this matter,” he submitted to the assembly.

Krishnaa was shocked beyond words. Arjuna! Her Arjuna! He had deserted her! It is as though he wanted to get it all over with, one way or another. As though Krishnaa did not matter to him. As though Krishnaa’s fate did not interest him any more! Let the Kauravas decide this matter!

Ugly words had been spoken in that assembly on that day. Krishnaa had been called a slave. Krishnaa had been called a whore. Krishnaa had been asked to go to the slave quarters to serve her new masters as a menial. Krishnaa had been asked to choose a man to mate with to beget children.

Evil words. Horrible words. Ugly, loathsome words.

But it is doubtful if any of those words had hurt her as deeply as these words of Arjuna.
Ugly deeds had been done in that assembly on that day. Like a common street gambler, a king had gambled away everything that was his in that assembly. In an act that even a street gambler does not do, that king, famed for his virtues, had wagered his brothers one after the other and lost them. And then, after wagering and losing himself, he had proceeded to wager his own wife! An act the vilest of men would be more reluctant to do than Yudhisthira had been to do. She too had been lost and declared, like the others, a slave to the Kauravas. She had been dragged out of her inner apartments where she was spending the days of her monthly period, and caught by her hair, had been dragged into the august assembly of the Kauravas, clad in a single cloth as the custom for a woman in her monthly season decreed. And, while the whole assembly watched, while her elders watched, while her husbands watched, an attempt was made to deprive her of her cloth and make her stand naked in the middle of that assembly. And then a man, again the middle of that assembly, in the presence of all of those people, in the brazen arrogance of his just won absolute power, contemptuous of all norms of decent behaviour, had removed his cloth to reveal his naked left thigh and invited her, his sister-in-law, to it – shaming her for ever.

Shocking deeds. Horrible deeds. Unheard of deeds in any civilized society.

But it is doubtful if any of these deeds had affected the princess of Panchala as deeply as this desertion by her favorite husband, the man who was among the five the closest to her heart, the man who had won her, won her body, her heart and her soul, in that swayamvara hall, the youth who had mesmerized her by his presence, by his competence, by his self-assurance, by his fearlessness, the man who was more truly her husband than any other.

Arjuna had deserted her.

A dark gloom rose up from the inner depths of Krishnaa. From that part of her being closest to the springs of life. From depths even she did not know existed. Deep, abysmal gloom rose up from those depths and spread to envelop her entire being. Clouding her senses, her mind, her heart, her entire being. Suffocating her senses, her mind, her heart, her entire being. Making her unable to breathe. Making her shiver in despair. In deep, indescribable pain. In pain so deep, no sound could express it. Pain so deep that silence, choking, smothering, enervating silence, silence that crushed her like a million tons of metal, alone could express it. Pain threatened to extinguish her.

Krishnaa surrendered to that silence.

And as she did so, the first howl of a distant jackal was heard in the Dice Hall. A howl of agony. A howl that tore at your heart with its immeasurable sadness. A howl that augured inauspiciousness. A howl that announced doom.

And then another, and another, and another. Soon a multitude of jackals were howling together, rending the skies with their agony. An endless multitude. Thousands upon thousands of jackals.

Which were joined by a hundred thousand donkeys braying together. In agony. In fathomless sadness.

And then a million wolves joined them. A million dogs. A million hyenas. A million owls. A million crows. A million vultures.

Filling the skies. Rending the skies.

And they heard a dissonance of eerie, bloodcurdling sounds joining these. Evil, horrible, monstrous sounds from another world, portending unspeakable evil. Cries of ghosts, cries of ghouls. Cries of restless souls wandering without a refuge for eternity in timeless dimensions. Cries of evil spirits. Cries of the souls of unborn babies choked to death in their mothers’ wombs. Cries of the souls of women who died without a sip of water in the middle of endless travails, trying to give birth to the babies in their wombs.

Cries from the depths of hell. Cries of the tortured souls from the many hells men feared to call by their names.

A million bats, dark, huge, eerie, risen from the depths of hell, covered the skies.

A thick horrid, obnoxious smell spread in the atmosphere of Hastinapura. A fetid stench as foul as people had never smelt.

The smell of death. The smell of rotting flesh.

The entire Hastinapura had come out of their homes.

They had never been witness to more inauspiciousness, to more horrible auguries. Hastinapura has suddenly turned hot. Hot like the womb of one of the horrible hells.
The cries of men and women, of children, multitudes and multitudes of them, joined the tumult.

There was deathly stillness In the Dice Hall.

O0O

And in the middle of that stillness, Dhritarashtra, tottering in his blindness, stood up, seeking the support of Sanjaya. His powerful body was bathed in perspiration.
“Daughter Krishnaa,” he stuttered, “forgive the Kauravas. Forgive my sons. They are evil. They were born evil and to an evil end they will come. I just wanted to see how far my sons would go in evil. And I see there is no end to their wickedness. Let not the Kurus come to an end through your wrath. Please forgive us for the humiliation you have been put through. You have made me proud by your conduct. I am pleased with you. Please ask for a boon – I want to give you a boon.”

It was a long time before Krishnaa could speak. When she spoke, she said these few words, “if you want to give me a boon, free King Yudhisthira from slavery. I do not want the king’s son to be laughed at by his friends, calling him a slave.”

“Let it be so. But I am not satisfied. Ask for another boon, Krishnaa.”

“I ask that my four other husbands be freed, with their weapons and their chariots.”

“So be it, Krishnaa. I free them all. And I free all their wealth. They can go back to Indraprastha with all that belonged to them. But ask for yet another boon. My heart is still not satisfied.”

“No, king, not another one, thank you. A kshatrani is entitled to ask for two boons. And I have asked for them. In any case, with my husbands freed, with their weapons and chariots, I do not need any other boon.”

Krishnaa bowed to the elders and walked towards her husbands.

The assembly exploded in a deafening explosion of approval.

O0O

Outside, the tumult had ended.

Peace had come back to Hastinapura.

The sky had turned diaphanous.

For the time being, at least.

O0O

Draupadi: The Day of the Jackals 2


Continued from …1

Her women brought her news of what was happening in the dice hall.

Shakuni was playing on behalf of Duryodhana. Yudhisthira had stated this was against the rules of the dice but had agreed to play anyway.

And then Yudhisthira had lost the first wager: A necklace made of rare pearls from the depths of the sea. The very best of Yudhishthira’s necklaces.

And then he had lost the second wager: His inexhaustible treasury of gold and silver, countless boxes, each filled with a thousand gold coins.

And then he had lost the third wager: His royal chariot, equal to a thousand chariots, which runs with the speed of the wind, producing a roar like that of a sea in fury, drawn by eight snow-white horses, selected from among the very best in the world.

And then a fourth wager: A hundred thousand young, beautiful serving girls, all in their early youth, each decked in gold and other ornaments, each a mistress of the sixty-four arts that please men.

And then a hundred thousand young serving men…then a thousand mighty elephants with gold girdles and ornaments…a thousand special chariots with gold flagpoles…all the peerless Gandharva, Tittiri and Kalmasha steeds Arjuna had won from Chitraratha…ten thousand more chariots…sixty thousand selected soldiers…wealth in millions and trillions…countless cows, bulls, horses, goat, sheep…all his lands, cities, the whole country, all his subjects…the ornaments on his brothers…

And then he had said: “I now wager my Sahadeva.”

And lost him.

And then he had said: “I now wager my Nakula.”

And lost him.

And then he had said: “I now wager my Arjuna.”

And lost him.

And then he had said: “I now wager my Vrikodara.”

And lost him.

And then he had wagered himself.

And lost himself.

“I have nothing more left to wager,” he had said.

“Of course you have,” Shakuni had reminded him. ”You have the beautiful princess of Panchala, your wife.”

And he had wagered her.

Yudhisthira had wagered his wife Krishnaa Draupadi in the game of dice.

The kings who had been specially invited for the game as guests were in utter shock. The elders of the Kurus and the acharyas were in utter shock. ”Shame, shame,” they muttered.

Then silence prevailed in the assembly. The whole assembly sat in silence, stunned, stupified. Even the Dhartarashtras, Duryodhana and his brothers and his friend Karna, were silent. Even they could not believe this had happened.

The world seemed to have come to a shocked silence.

Then the silence was broken by the excited, whispering voice of Dhritarashtra. He was asking the same question he had asked each time Yudhisthira had wagered something.
“Has the wager been won yet?”

And then the sound of the dice falling was heard, followed by the booming voice of Shakuni declaring once again, “Lo, I have won it.”

O0O

When the old pratihari came, Krishnaa was ready.

She hadn’t expected this.

She had expected Yudhisthira to lose all his wealth and prepared herself to it. She had expected Yudhisthira to lose all their possessions and prepared herself to it. She had expected Yudhisthira to lose their kingdom and prepared herself to it.

But she hadn’t expected her husband to wager his brothers. She hadn’t expected him to wager himself.

And she hadn’t expected him to wager her.

But still she was ready.

Her world had collapsed completely around her. She had been beaten. Beaten beyond her wildest fears. She hadn’t imagined even in her worst nightmares what Yudhisthira had done to her.

But she was going to maintain her dignity to the end. She the sacrifice-born daughter of king Drupada, the wedded wife of the five Pandavas, was going to keep her dignity to the end.

She was ready.

“Go back and ask them if I was wagered before my husband lost himself or after that,” she told him.

“Ask the slave to come here and ask the question herself,” came the reply.

“Go and ask the gambler if he lost me before he himself became a slave or after it.” She sent the pratihari back again.

O0O

And then Dushshasana himself came.

There was intoxication in his eyes – the intoxication of victory. There was rapture in his eyes – the rapture of victory.

And there were other feelings in them. Feelings that terrified her. Feelings that sent shivers down her spine. Feelings that drained all energy away from her body.

Lust. Raging lust. Madness. Raving madness. Insanity. Evil. Vicious evil. Depravity.

Degeneracy. Hunger. Shameless, depthless, insane, fiendish hunger.

His were eyes from the dark depths of hell where nothing was sacred, nothing was forbidden.

Terrified she joined her palms before her and pleaded.

Those palms had never before been joined together in abject misery. They had never been joined together like this except in prayer to the almighty and in homage to the elders.

Terrified, she joined her palms together and pleaded to be left alone. And in her agony, in her utter helplessness, mentioned the unmentionable. “I am in my season,” she confessed. “See, I am clad in a single piece of cloth.”

“Season or no season, clad in a single piece of cloth or no cloth at all, I’m taking you to the hall,” she heard the booming voice declaring.

Terrified she turned around and fled. Fled towards the chambers in which lived the other ladies, the ladies of Dhritarashtra’s household.

She heard the sound of running feet behind her and fled like a streak of lightning – a streak of sparkling, dark lightning.

Primal fear gave her wings. That most ancient of a woman’s fears.

But then a powerful hand caught her. Caught her by her hair trailing behind her and pulled her and dragged her towards the door. And then across the door. And across corridors. And across open spaces. While she fought and pleaded. While she begged and screamed. While she tried to hold to herself her cloth that was slipping away again and again.

The wind was still again. Dark clouds had covered the sky. A shocked sun had disappeared from the firmament. Darkness covered the earth – sinister darkness.

And the powerful man dragged the helpless woman on, holding her by her hair.

O0O

She was in the hall now. She looked at her husbands.

There was terror in her eyes. There was pleading in her eyes. And there was fire in her eyes.

Not one of the five pairs of eyes faced hers.

Not one word was spoken by any of the five mighty men she had wedded in the five ceremonies that were performed on five successive days in Kampilya, with fire as their witness.

Kshatta’s was the only voice of protest. He was asked to keep quiet or get out.

“Slave, slave,” shouted Dushshasana as he began dragging her again towards the slave quarters.

“The ways of dharma are too subtle,” said Bhishma in a voice which she noticed was quaking for the first time. “I am not able to decide what is right and what is wrong.”
Krishnaa’s soul wept.

And her mind revolted. Reviled. Subtle are the ways of dharma indeed! A woman is brought dragged by her hair into the middle of that august assembly and for Bhishma subtle are the ways of dharma.

For this, Grandfather, you shall pay with your life!

It doesn’t matter that woman is a princess whose face even the sun and the moon hadn’t seen before. It does not matter that the only occasion that woman has been seen by men other than her husband was on the day she stood up in her swayamvara hall to choose a husband for herself. It does not matter that that woman is in her monthly period and clad in a single piece of cloth. It does not matter if that woman is your own vadhu, a bride of the Bharatas, and you are the senior-most Bharata present here. It does not matter she is your granddaughter-in-law. It does not matter that her own husbands and their cousins are sitting and watching, apart from invited kings from several countries.

Let her be just a woman. Any woman. And a man had brought her dragging her by her hair into the middle of the assembly. A man was forcing his will upon a woman in public.

You are a kshatriya.

And you don’t know what dharma is! You don’t know your dharma!

You don’t know if she is a slave or not. So you don’t know your dharma!

What if she is a slave? What then?

Isn’t your dharma clear even if she were a slave?

For this, Grandfather, son of Shantanu, you shall pay with your life.

And all posterity will call you a coward.

A confused, old, helpless coward, afraid of his own evil grandson.

Krishnaa looked at Acharya Drona and the great guru avoided her eyes. For he knew what his dharma was and yet did not have the courage to stand up for it.

For this cowardice of yours, great acharya, you shall pay with your life.

Krishnaa looked at Acharya Kripa and the acharya sat with his eyes fixed at his feet. For he too was but a coward deep in his heart and dared not to speak. Krishnaa’s eyes would enter his soul through his eyes and find the coward hiding there, Kripa knew.

One by one Krishnaa’s eyes sought the eyes of all the elders in the assembly and none had the courage to face the eyes of this pleading, innocent woman who was being humiliated by a bunch of wicked men in the middle of that august assembly. Cowards they all were – one and all.

It was then that the voice of justice spoke through a totally unexpected mouth – that of Vikarna, a younder brother of Duryodhana’s. Vikarna declared what was going on was evil and Draupadi was not a slave since she was wagered after Yudhisthira had lost himself.

The sabha applauded him.

But Karna called him a child and asked him to sit down, his mouth shut. When elders spoke children had no right to open their mouths.
B
ut where elders kept their mouths shut? This was not a case of elders speaking, but of elders keeping their mouths shut. Vikarna had spoken because none of the elders had responded to the pleadings of Krishnaa.

“The woman standing in our midst is a whore,” thundered Karna.

This was the most evil day in Karna’s life. Born noble, Karna was denied the privileges of birth and lineage. Fate had snatched them away from him. Yet he had triumphed over fate by his nobility, by his courage, by his generosity, by his mastery of archery. The whole world said this son of a charioteer was equal to Arjuna himself in his skill of archery, equal to Shibi in charity, the Sun himself in glory, and an equal to Indra in fearlessness. Yet today his behavior had sunk below the level of the common man on the street, below the level of a common drunkard watching a drunken squabble on the street. Today Karna was without nobility, without charity, without greatness. He had sunken into the lowest dust. There was not a noble bone in him today, no redeeming feature in his behavior. For what he was doing today, his ancestors shall forever be ashamed of him.

For his sins today, this friend of Duryodhana shall pay with his life.

For this, Karna, you will pay with your life.

“That woman there is a whore, a common whore,” declared Karna pointing his beautiful finger at Krishnaa. “She is a whore because she sleeps with five men. And any woman who sleeps with five men is a common whore.”

The Dice Hall was stunned.

“And I say, Dushshasana, take away even that single cloth she is wearing. For, she doesn’t deserve it. A slave has no claims to modesty. A whore has no claims to modesty either. And she is both a slave and a whore.”

The Dice hall couldn’t believe what it was hearing.

Krishnaa felt she could reach out and touch the hatred that filled the hall. It was like a physical presence. Evil, noxious, lethal, sinister, fiendish. The intensity of it sent shivers through her.

“Why the hesitation, Dushshasana?” roared Karna again. “Take that common whore’s cloth away. Denude that new slave of ours right here in the assembly.

The price for your words today, Karna, shall be death and eternal shame for you.

Dushshasana caught hold of Draupadi’s cloth and started pulling at it.

O0O

Continued …3

Living Gita 43: In Praise of Karma Yoga

  A series of articles on the Bhagavad Gita for people living and working in our volatile, uncertain, complex and ambiguous times filled wit...