1.1Dhritarashtra said:🔗

Sanjaya,

What are my sons and the sons of Pandu up to,

On this holy land of Kurukshetra, eager and raring to fight?

1.2 Sanjaya, said:

Sire,

Seeing the Pandava army in full formation,

Duryodhana approaches his teacher, saying:

1.3 My teacher,

Look at the great army of the sons of Pandu,

Expertly arranged by your intelligent disciple, the son of Drupada,

1.4, 1.5, 1.6 Many are the heroes and mighty archers equal to Bhima and Arjuna in war;

Yuyudhana, Viraata, and the great warrior Drupada, Dhristaketu,

Cekitaana, and the heroic King of Kaashi;

Also Purujit, Kuntibhoja, and the great man Saibya; the valiant Yudhaamanyu,

The formidable Uttamauja, the son of Subhadra, and the sons of Draupadi, all great warriors.

1.7 Best of the Brahmanas, let me tell you about the powerful leaders who command my army, so that you know.

It is significant that the opening statement of this great scripture was from a blind man. He not only had lost the power of sight, but also the power of insight, the wisdom to distinguish between right and wrong.

Dhritarashtra's brother Pandu handed over his throne to him as well as the care of his five children. From the point of view of any righteous person, these five Pandava

princes were Dhritarashtra's responsibility as well. However, the separation in Dhritarashtra's mind was clear when he said, 'My sons and the sons of Pandu.'

'What are they doing?' he asked Sanjaya plaintively, 'these sons of mine, the hundred Kaurava princes, and those five sons of Pandu, the Pandava princes.' He claimed no ownership of the Pandava princes and no responsibility or concern for their welfare. His concern was for his own Kaurava sons.

Dhritarashtra's attachment to his sons, especially the crown prince Duryodhana, had blinded all his reasoning. Whatever his son did received his endorsement. From early adolescence, Duryodhana had been plotting to kill his Pandava cousins. Although Dhritarashtra feigned ignorance of his son's evil deeds, he was aware of what his son was up to.

Even when Duryodhana and his brother Dushassana went to the extreme extent of disgracing Draupadi, wife of the Pandava princes, by disrobing her in public at his court, Dhritarashtra seemed powerless to act. When Duryodhana finally refused to give the Pandavas even a needlepoint of land, still Dhritarashtra kept quiet, ensuring that blood would be shed.

The sad part of the tale was that Dhritharashtra was aware that he was following the path of evil and that it would result in destruction of his clan. Yet he seemed powerless to act otherwise. Dhritharashtra's tale is common to humankind. Often, we follow wrong paths even though we know it is wrong, almost as if under a hypnotic spell. We know that the result may not be in our best interests over the long term but we can't stop ourselves. The Gita, therefore, begins from this premise.

It is not merely the fight between good and evil. It is far more than that. It is about our inner conflict in being unable to do the right thing, not being courageous enough to stand for what is right. It is about the lack of awareness, clarity and courage to follow the path of righteousness. It is a fight between good and evil within us, not merely the good and evil outside of us. Krishna, the Superconscious, constantly looms over our being yet we ignore this divine call within us, caught in the illusion that what we choose to do instead will make us happy.

Dhritharashtra refers to Kurukshetra, the site of this war, as a holy land or place of righteousness, dharmakshetra. People ask, 'how can a battlefield be called a holy land?' If you study the history of humanity, you find it has always been a battlefield. Whether these wars were morally guided or misguided is a judgmental argument. What is right for one need not be right for another person.

Practically every century, if not every decade, there have been battles in some part of the world. Almost all were created out of the belief that one party was morally right and the other wrong. In that sense, each battle was fought to restore righteousness as believed by both parties. So, in that sense every battlefield was a holy site according to someone's belief in restoring the highest values and belief systems.

In the case of Dhritharashtra, he had an additional reason. He implicitly recognized the divinity of Krishna, whose mere presence on this battlefield conferred upon it the mantle of righteousness. Wherever Krishna was, that was where righteousness would prevail. Even in his confused state of thinking, there was enough clarity in Dhritharashtra's mind to acknowledge the supremacy of Krishna. This revealed itself in his choice of words. It was as if, at one level, Dhritharashtra knew that the fate of his Kaurava clan was sealed.

If Krishna was the epitome of righteousness, and Krishna was on the side of the Pandavas, how could the Pandavas lose? The tragic fate of Dhritharashtra was that he knew that the destruction of his clan was inevitable, and yet he was powerless to do anything about it.

Sanjaya was Dhritharashtra's minister and charioteer. By the grace of sage Vyasa, Sanjaya was given the power to see whatever was going on in the battlefield, so that he could faithfully convey to his King Dhritharashtra and his Queen Gandhari the tragic happenings therein. His third eye was opened, and not only could he see what was happening at a far away location, but he had the power of intuition as well, to know what would unfold.

We are all blind in one sense or another, and Dhritharashtra represents the majority of mankind in this aspect. Blindness in this case is not only the physical inability to see. It essentially represents the inability to discriminate between right and wrong and the absence of desire to want to distinguish between right and wrong.

We can all be like Sanjaya, with our third eyes open instead of being blind like Dhritharashtra. This is one of the messages of Gita. Becoming aware of our inner conflicts is the first step in opening the third eye, the energy center located between the eyebrows.

Again, it is interesting the way Sanjaya started his description of the proceedings.

Duryodhana was the crown prince, and for all practical purposes the king as well, since his father was both blind and powerless to stop him. Duryodhana saw the soldiers of the Pandava army arrayed in front of him. There were many ways he could have responded to the sight. As the one person who single handedly instigated this war, Duryodhana could have gloated, so sure that he would vanquish his cousins. As a measure to reassure himself and his army, Duryodhana could have roared out in anger and in defiance. Yet, after seeing the army he chose to walk across to his teacher and mentor, Drona, one of the commanders of the Kaurava army, to seek his blessings.

As we shall see, the move was to ensure that any blame for the outcome of the war fell on Drona's shoulders. Duryodhana walking up to his mentor was more to hold him responsible than to seek reassurance or blessings.

This is how most people act when they go forward with a plan of action, knowing fully well that it is wrong and has serious consequences. They find something or someone else to blame. It is well understood that whatever follows will be unpleasant, and what triggered it is their foolish actions. Yet, there is solace in the belief that they can lay the blame on someone else, however illogical it may be.

Duryodhana understood well the modern management concept of delegation. Like many managers today, he delegated so that he could abdicate responsibility.

One man from the IT industry was telling me how things work in his company. He said:

When a customer asks our big boss, the CEO, if we can complete a difficult project for them within a week, our CEO first sends the request to the Divisional Manager, who then sends it down to a Project Manager, who in turn sends it to a team of programmers to study the cost.

When the project seems ambitious and not worth our while, we at the programmer level tell our boss, the Project Manager, 'It is impossible and foolish to take this on. There is no way we can do it in even a month.'

The Project Manager then tells the Divisional Manager, 'It is a difficult and expensive project and it cannot be done within a fortnight.'

The Divisional Manager in turn tells the CEO, 'It is a huge challenge and with a lot of overtime it could be done in a week.'

The CEO informs the customer, 'Our Company will deliver it in three days!' - thereby making the programming team responsible for it.

Delegation can work miracles, as long as the person who delegates does not know what needs to be done!

Duryodhana was now exhibiting his mastery in this field of management. He was aware that there is no hope to win the war. However, his greed for power and wealth blinded him to a point that he could not face reality. He wished to change reality so that he could control the outcome. He could not take responsibility for the situation as it was, since he did not know how to. All he could do was turn to his mentors and tell them they were responsible to ensure his success.

Duryodhana was blunt in his message to Drona on the battlefield. Drona was not a typical warrior. He was a brahmana, a scholar, and learned his skills of archery and warfare from his father, sage Bharadwaja. Drupada, the prince of Panchala, was a fellow disciple of Bharadwaja, and he had promised his childhood friend Drona part of his kingdom when he came to power. When Drona was in serious financial problems and approached Drupada for help, Drupada insulted him and turned him away from his court. Drona became the teacher to the Pandava and Kaurava princes. At the end of their training, he demanded his fees as a teacher, his guru dakhsina, as was the tradition. Instead of anything material, he asked them to capture Drupada and bring the king to him. Of his disciples, only Arjuna was ready to do this. Arjuna did as he was asked and brought Drupada as his prisoner of war to his guru Drona, as a gift.

Drona released Drupada and handed his kingdom back. Drupada was mortified at his capture and submission to Drona. He went into deep penance and sought a child who would kill Drona. Dhrishtadyumna was born to Drupada as a result of this penance, and he became, ironically, a disciple of Drona along with the Pandava and Kaurava princes. Though Drona was aware of this background of Dhrishtadyumna's birth, he still accepted him as a disciple and trained him in warfare. Dhrishtadyumna became the Commander-in-Chief of the Pandava army in this Great War, and Drona was one of the opposing Commanders of the Kaurava army.

Duryodhana pointedly referred to Drona's lack of foresight in training his potential killer, who now led the opposing army. It was as though he was warning Drona not to be so trusting again and not to go easy with the opponent, who was once his student. Duryodhana then pointed out the other great Pandava warriors, such as Bhima and Arjuna, who too were students of Drona, as well as a number of other great warriors fighting for the Pandavas.

Duryodhana then decided to explain to Drona about the great warriors on the Kaurava side. Duryodhana was no longer a disciple addressing his mentor. It was as if Duryodhana had hired Drona as a mercenary to wage a battle for him. Duryodhana alternately berated Drona for having trained the opposing army warriors and then pacified him by listing him at the head of his own great warriors.

Duryodhana was totally confused. He started off praising the strength of the Pandava army. This was not because he genuinely wanted to, but mainly to point out to Drona the mistakes Duryodhana felt Drona had committed.

At one level, as a kshatriya, Duryodhana did not have respect for Drona, a brahmana scholar; he felt that a brahmana had no business to engage in warfare. However, knowing the skill of Drona as a warrior, Duryodhana had no choice but to keep him on his side; it would have been too dangerous for Duryodhana if Drona were to take sides with the Pandava princes.

At another level, Duryodhana had no trust in Drona. He always felt that Drona was partial to the Pandava princes and that Arjuna was his favorite. Duryodhana knew in his heart that given the choice, Drona would not support him. He knew that Drona had no respect for him, and considered him to be in the wrong. He also knew that Drona held Krishna in great esteem and did not believe that Duryodhana could succeed in this war.

Duryodhana was in deep inner conflict. He had no guilt feelings going to war against his brethren, as he desperately wanted to keep the kingdom for himself and did not believe that he would be safe as long as the Pandava princes were alive. His problem was not one of doing right or wrong. Whatever he did was right, according to him. He was not a man given to deep thinking.

However, Duryodhana had no trust in many of the great warriors who had taken his side. He knew that many, especially Drona, Bhishma, and Kripa, who were also teachers to Pandava princes, did not want to fight the Pandava army. He knew that they were compelled from a moral standpoint to fight for him, as their king, and not as directed by their consciousness. This was the source of his conflict and uncertainty.

It was also strange that at the beginning of the war Duryodhana chose to go to Drona, and not Bhishma, his great grandfather and Commander-in-Chief. It was as if Duryodhana was afraid to say to Bhishma the things he had said to Drona.

Drona was a mercenary, an employee to whom Duryodhana could talk abrasively. Bhishma, on the other hand, was his great grandfather, the one who had given up his chance to be king to fulfill his own father's moral obligations, and to satisfy his father's lust. There was no way that Duryodhana could have said the same words to Bhishma at this stage of the war.

Duryodhana was not yet feeling desperate enough about the situation to confront Bhishma. At a later stage in the war when it became clearer that the Kaurava army was in deep trouble, Duryodhana approached Bhishma and blamed him for being partial to the Pandava princes.

Q: Master, you talked about people who are physically blind and people who see yet are still blinded by ignorance. If a great king like Dhritharashtra could be blinded by his love for his son, how can ordinary mortals be any better?

Dhritharashtra is a metaphor for the rest of humanity in the same way as the Mahabharata is a metaphor of life. One can learn to cope with physical blindness, although with difficulty. One is aware of one's blindness and takes the necessary action to circumvent any limitations imposed by this affliction.

Psychological blindness is far more difficult to cope with. Most of the time, you are not even aware that you are blind. There lies the problem. You can only look for a solution if you know that you have a problem. If you are unaware, you think you are normal and that all the problems you face as a result are normal too.

Look around you. There are many examples that you can see in real life. To many parents, their children can do no wrong, even when they are confronted with evidence.

A father once narrated a real life incident to me:

He borrowed money so that his intelligent son could attend a top boarding school in Bharat. Even though it was a financial burden, the father wanted to ensure that his son was educated in the best school and could mix with children of well-connected and rich parents.

The son also excelled in sports and was even a captain for several teams. In his pre-final year at school, the warden in the hostel caught him with drugs and the young man was expelled. The father tried his best to prevent the expelling, but could not succeed. His son told him he was innocent, even though the warden and other children told the father that his son had a drug related problem.

The boy was kept at home and went to a local school. Again teachers reported to the parents that the boy kept bad company and that they should be careful. The son told his father a different story. The father believed the son and refused to take him for the prescribed treatment.

Today this young man is over twenty-five years old, managed to barely scrape through college, and cannot stick to any job and a burden to the parents. He still has a drug problem, and yet the father finds it difficult to accept it and take him for treatment.

Is this an unusual incident? No, not at all. In many households there are similar issues with a child where the parents find it impossible to face the reality of the situation. Reality is too harsh and they prefer to hide behind lies, often knowing that these are lies.

Why? Why are there so many Dhritharashtra amongst us? One prominent reason is that we employ denial to protect our ego. Other people may know that the son is a drug addict, but once the father accepts it, it becomes a publicly acknowledged fact. Until then, even if the rest of the world talks about it, he can hide under a façade of lies and feel that all is well. Taking the child for treatment is like accepting the problem, which will result in shame and the need to accept some measure of responsibility, as the father sees it.

Social acceptance is of paramount importance for most people. If they lose that, they lose everything. Their entire life depends upon recognition and acceptance. People have such a low opinion of themselves or place such a low value on their own judgments that they act upon what others say or think. They dance to other peoples' tunes.

In the epic Ramayana, it is said that Rama, the king of Ayodhya, suspected his wife Sita of infidelity, based upon one servant's gossip. Because of this rumor, Sita was asked to prove her innocence by entering a fire pit!

Of course, this may be just a story but surely even in that age of more enlightened people, a great king, and an incarnation of Lord Vishnu, was portrayed as losing his mind just by listening to another person's gossip.

From childhood we are trained and conditioned not to believe ourselves. We are forever told to do this or that, or more often not to do that or this. Children are rewarded if they obey and punished if they do not. They don't have a choice. Only the most rebellious of children may get away with what he or she chooses to do. For most others it is better, simpler and safer just to conform.

This basic acceptance of what your parents and elders decide as right and wrong for you carries over into adult life. Your role and path in life is defined for you as a child. You are given a manual of do's and don'ts for life. This manual may be a list of ten, or one hundred or a thousand commandments.

This is the reason why most people are lifeless and dull. You are brought up… actually brought down from childhood, from the natural joy and curiosity of a child, to the dull state of an adult who can only live with the help of a manual. You are afraid to do anything that is not in the manual. You are scared to do anything that is different from what you are used to doing. You feel safe and secure only if you follow certain patterns.

Some people will occupy the same place at the dining table and eat throughout their life. They will shop at the same places in their neighborhood. They will be proud that they have only a few selected friends throughout their lives. Such people are already dead while they are still living. If your actions and thoughts are so limited, and if this is what you think brings you comfort, then what does this mean?

If we think deeply, it is a simple reflection of our own insecurity. We are so afraid even to take the risk of changing our position at the dinner table, or adding to our circle of friends or considering a new routine. We are frozen in time and space. Of course, this will give us comfort; but this is the comfort of the dead. We become like buffaloes wallowing in the same spot in the mud, come what may. The buffalo is so conditioned that it will go back to that same spot. It is an animal and follows its instincts, but what about us?

Our habit is, to establish ourselves in an identity and then get bound by that identity. We dare not question who we really are. The role that we play and the position that we have assigned to ourselves, or whatever society has assigned to us, becomes the most important thing in our lives. To break that is to lose society's respect. That is truly worse than death for many of us.

There are people who say that honor is more important than life; death over dishonor was a favorite motto of some kings. Does anyone stop to think about the meaning of honor? Who defines honor for you? Why is the life and joy of a daughter less important than the opinion of society? Why does the character of a wife have to be defined by what a passerby says?

Honor is the code that society lays down as part of its control over us through fear and greed. It is a moral code, a code of conscience, a code being imposed from outside. It is not a voice from your inner space. It is not a signal from your consciousness.

Be very clear, conscience is not consciousness. Conscience is a convenient anchor for you to hang feelings of guilt upon. If you do not punish your daughter or wife because they seem to be violating your societal code, you would feel guilty. You justify your inhumanity by your need to absolve yourself of societal guilt.

When we operate on this mode we operate under assumptions of some duty that we owe to life and society. Life does not expect us to fulfill any obligations on its behalf, but society does. There is no duty that we owe to anybody - to our spouses, sons and daughters, parents or anyone else. As long as we operate in a mode of being obligated, we behave in a business mode, on a conditional basis.

When we shift to unconditional relationships, there is no such thing as duty. When you do things out of deep awareness and without expectation of reward, the word duty will leave you forever.

It is a responsibility that we have as human beings to be compassionate towards others, and in that mode of compassion we can never be harmful to anyone or tolerate harm coming to another. When we operate out of compassion, we operate out of intelligence. When we operate out of a need to fulfill some duty or moral obligation, we operate out of blinded intelligence. We operate without awareness.

That is what Dhritharashtra does here. In addition to being visually handicapped, he is also burdened by his duty to his sons, especially his eldest. After all, Duryodhana is the crown prince and, as his father, Dhritharashtra feels he owes the prince his support irrespective of what harm he causes.

Unfortunately for him, Dhritharashtra never transcends the role of dutiful love towards his son. If Dhritharashtra's boundaries of compassion had extended beyond Duryodhana to cover others, such as the Pandava princes, this epic would have ended differently.

We too can have a different ending to our life's story if we expand the boundaries of our relationships with awareness. Our eyes will be truly opened. We will not only see but we will see intelligently too

This attitude has nothing to do with one's position in life. It depends only on whether we allow ourselves to be blinded by ignorance by what we consider to be our duty based on societal regulations or whether we act in awareness of our true responsibilities in life.

Ego needs support

1.8 You, Bhishma, Karna, Krupa, Aswattama, Vikarna and the son of Somadatta,

All always victorious in battle.

1.9 Many other heroes there are who are prepared to lay down their lives for my sake; All well equipped with different weapons, and well experienced in warfare.

1.10 Our unlimited army is protected by Grandfather Bhishma,

Their limited army is protected by Bhima.

1.11 Now all of you, wherever you are positioned,

Promise full protection to Bhishma.

1.12 Bhishma, the mighty grandsire of the Kuru dynasty and Grandfather,

Then blew upon his conch loudly, roaring like a lion and Duryodhana was joyful.

Duryodhana was a coward by nature, suffering from a deep inferiority complex and a strong need for attention. He had always been threatened by the fact that his Pandava cousins were superior to him and his brothers. He was especially afraid of Arjuna and Bhima, who were physically stronger and more skilled than him. Like all bullies through the ages, Duryodhana was only afraid of being overpowered by someone whose physical power was greater than his own.

Duryodhana felt secure only when surrounded by cronies. His strength and valor arose from the feeling of being supported by his clan and the army around him. On the positive side, Duryodhana was an extremely generous friend who gave his all for the sake of someone he trusted. This quality had attracted strong men like Karna to him who swore undying loyalty. Even though Karna knew that Arjuna was his own brother, all he could say to his mother Kunti was that she would finally be left with five sons, implying that one of her sons, either Arjuna or Karna, would perish in the war. Such was the loyalty that Duryodhana evoked in his friends.

Duryodhana now rightly went on to claim that there were a number of people, who were great warriors, who would willingly lay down their lives for him. These warriors might have been aware that Duryodhana was an immoral person, but such was their commitment to him that it did not matter.

Duryodhana then began to boost his own morale by saying that the power of the Kaurava army led by the redoubtable Bhishma was immeasurable, whereas the Pandava army with Bhima as one of the commanders was limited in power. Duryodhana's reference to Bhima alongside Bhishma was due to the fear that he had, of the oath that Bhima had taken - to break Duryodhana's thigh and drink his blood to avenge the insult to Draupadi. Duryodhana knew in his heart that this would happen and the only factor that could prevent it would be the protection of Bhishma.

Duryodhana then addressed the Kaurava army exhorting them to support their Commander-in-Chief Bhishma. In response, Bhishma blew on his conch like a lion, making Duryodhana joyful.

Bhishma was the first Kaurava Commander-in-Chief and Duryodhana wanted to make sure that the entire Kaurava army was committed to his leadership. In the past, Duryodhana had not hidden his feelings that Bhishma was partial to the Pandavas. Now, however, the die was cast, and Bhishma, the greatest warrior either side had known, was leading the Kaurava army. Duryodhana wanted to take no chances that his past hatred towards Bhishma would affect his assembled supporters.

In some ways Duryodhana had no choice. Though he knew that Bhishma, as well as Drona, would have gone with the Pandava princes and Krishna had they not been bound by their strong bonds of righteousness, he could not afford to antagonize them. In fact Karna, his dearest friend and one of the greatest warriors on either side equaled only by Arjuna, refused to fight in the war till Bhishma was leading the Kaurava army. Karna stepped in only after Bhishma was mortally wounded on the tenth day of the war. Yet, Duryodhana had to accept Bhishma's leadership as a choiceless option.

Bhishma had the great grandfather status to the Pandava and Kaurava clan. Bhishma was born to Ganga as Devavrata. He was the only surviving son of eight sons that Ganga had given birth to. When his father King Shantanu wanted to marry Satyavati, a daughter of a fisherman, Devavrata swore never to marry so that his stepmother Satyavati's children could have access to his father's throne. Satyavati was the grandmother of both Pandu and Dhritharashtra. Bhishma was highly respected for his valor and sagacity. It is one of the great perceived ironies of Mahabharata that wise men like Bhishma and Drona chose to take on Duryodhana's side, knowing fully well that whatever path Duryodhana was following was morally incorrect.

In the highest spiritual sense there is no moral right or moral wrong. Everything is neutral. Bhishma and Drona were not ordinary people. They were highly skilled in the scriptural truth. Moreover, they were fully aware that Krishna was an incarnation, and the very fact that Krishna sided with the Pandavas was a clear indication to them as to how the war would unfold. As great warriors themselves, they had no fears about their own deaths; more importantly they had no guilt about what they had embarked upon.

Men like Bhishma and Drona, as well as others such as Kripacharya, trusted their awareness. Duryodhana was their prince and they were committed to him. They were not concerned about the result of the war; to them it was a certainty that Duryodhana would perish and they would too, along with him. In fact, there is a point in the war when Krishna was greatly angered at the rout that Bhishma was causing in the Pandava army and unhappy at the deferential way Arjuna was treating Bhishma. Krishna got down from Arjuna's chariot that He was driving and advanced menacingly towards Bhishma.

Bhishma instantly laid down his arms, folded his hands in prayer to the advancing Krishna who was holding His sudarsana chakra, the divine discus weapon on His finger, and greeted Him. 'Lord, it will be the greatest blessing for me to die in Your hands.'

To these great warriors, dying on the battlefield was the duty of a kshatriya, a warrior. What was more important to them was that they were rooted in the awareness of the present moment, carrying out their duty. They weren't concerned with the righteousness of Duryodhana's motives. Their awareness transcended the moral rights and wrongs established by society and religion. They disapproved of Duryodhana's insult of the Pandava princes and Draupadi at the courts but did not protest. They disapproved of Duryodhana's instigation of this war and yet took up his side, knowing fully well that what lay ahead was destruction.

This was not foolishness or resignation. This was surrender to the inevitable, surrender to the divine. At the level of their consciousness, these great masters allowed nature to take its own course, and allowed themselves to be swept along in its tide.

To relax and allow whatever happens to happen is the sure sign of an evolved spirit. Ordinary human beings have the freedom to think, act and choose. As a result, they think they are in control of their destinies. In a sense they are; they make their decisions and act upon them. But it is their unconscious samskaras, the memories, value systems and beliefs that drive them into and through all these decisions.

A cycle is created as the samskaras lead to certain actions and those actions in turn mould their mental set up and reinforce these samskaras. Yet, a human being has the choice to break out of this cycle and live in freedom from his samskaras.

It is our constant conflict with nature that leads to our suffering. We believe that we act out of intelligence, when most of the time our actions are driven by instinct, the unconscious where the samskaras reside. The unconscious operates at much higher speeds and stores far more data than our conscious mind. Typically, if the unconscious mind is capable of storing and accessing 60 million images within a short time, the conscious mind during the same period can process 60 at best. The speed of the unconscious mind has been designed by nature to cope with life or death issues. Unfortunately, this system gets misused for all other mundane issues as well.

If we learn to flow with nature, like the reeds in a river as they say in Tao, we will always do the right thing. We suffer when we resist nature and therefore limit our options. There are two ways to live life. One is to accept the world and life as it is, what in Sanskrit is termed srishti drishti. The other way is to try to make circumstances evolve according to our viewpoint, called drishti srishti.

The first attitude, one of acceptance, brings happiness; the second, one of resistance, brings suffering. No one can change the world according to his viewpoint. It is an exercise doomed to failure.

In our lives, we cannot even change the attitude of our neighbor or our spouse.

At best, we can transform ourselves, that's all.

All talk about revolutionizing the world is just talk. No revolution has ever succeeded in bringing about any significant, positive change. Revolutionaries who claim that they are against dictatorship become dictators themselves. That has always been history.

Ironically, an enlightened master has no such freedom. He is a faithful channel to the universal energy, Parasakti, the divine Existence. Every move and every thought is at the behest of the divine. An enlightened being is beyond choice. An enlightened being is in complete surrender to the Divine.

The scale that is applied to ordinary humans cannot measure the motives and actions of an enlightened being. Their actions are taken in a no-mind, thoughtless state that flows constantly in the present, with no expectations of what may happen in the future and no regrets about what happened in the past. Their actions may seem immoral or at least strange as perceived through the lens of the rules and regulations of society. But they are beyond society.

Bhishma was of divine origin, the son of Ganga. He had the gift of living as long as he wanted and to die when he wanted. His integrity and morality were the standard for his era. Yet Bhishma kept quiet when Draupadi was disrobed and insulted. He did not act when Duryodhana denied the Pandava princes even a patch of land. He chose to fight for Duryodhana.

However, when Duryodhana requested him to lead the Kaurava army, Bhishma told him that the Pandava princes were as dear to him as Duryodhana was, and while he would wage war against their army, he could not take their lives. This was the condition under which Bhishma agreed to fight against the Pandava army on Duryodhana's behalf.

Bhishma had repeatedly counseled Duryodhana against his evil deeds towards the Pandava princes and Duryodhana was aware of how Bhishma opposed his acts. Yet, in this instant, Bhishma's compassion for Duryodhana overcame his distaste for his actions and behavior. Bhishma understood the desperate fears running through Duryodhana's mind and felt the need to reassure him.

In response to these exaggerated claims of Duryodhana, Bhishma blew his conch as a sign of resounding affirmation of whatever had been said by Duryodhana. Sanjaya said that Bhishma's conch sounded like the roar of a lion, coming from the oldest and the bravest of all the warriors assembled on the battlefield. It was also an affirmation of Bhishma's own support to the Kaurava prince and the signal for the war to begin. Bhishma's conch was a celebratory signal, seeking victory.

Q: Master, how can there be no right and wrong in what we do? Can we then do whatever we wish without fear? Need someone have no fear of the hereafter if one is powerful enough to overcome societal authority?

At the highest spiritual level, at the level of Existence, right and wrong do not happen in the way we think. Nature does not follow our societal rules of right and wrong. This is why we often are in anger and sorrow when thousands are destroyed in natural calamities or when young ones die in accidents.

We say nature is cruel. We ask, 'Does God exist? God is supposed to be compassionate. How can He allow these things to happen?'

We have no understanding of how nature operates. Nature just is. It does not accept any conditions known to our logic. Humans only dimly understand the laws of nature.

Let us imagine a situation where you are driving a car and you run over an anthill. The car destroys a whole colony of ants. Would you have even noticed it? You would drive on without being aware of what havoc you had caused upon this colony of ants. Had you run into a moose or a deer, you certainly would have known because your car would have been damaged, but not an anthill.

Nature takes as much notice of us as we do of ants. The frequencies are different, just like how our size and frequency are different from those of ants. Enlightened beings operate at the frequency of Existence. They follow the laws of nature, not of humans. When I said there is no right and wrong in nature, it applies at the level of Existence and enlightened masters.

It is true that at the level of human beings you need to have guidelines of right and wrong, of what to do and not to do. But be careful. When these are enforced