Gita: The Song of Life – 1
The epic battle of Kurukshetra took place around 3,100 B.C. between the Kauravas and the Pandavas. King Dhritarashtra, the father of the Kauravas, being blind, did not qualify to become the King, so the crown was handed over to his younger brother Pandu, father of the Pandavas. When King Pandu died, the succession of the throne became the key issue for the Mahabharata war. Pandavas represented goodness, piety, nobility, and righteous living, while their cousins followed passion, wickedness, cruelty, anger, and greed. The two parties faced each other in war, symbolizing the eternal battle between good and evil.
Both Arjuna and Duryodhana went to Krishna to seek His help in the battle. The choice was between His army and battle equipment, and having Him personally on their side. Duryodhana chose the mighty army while Arjuna wanted only Sri Krishna. He reasoned: “With You as my charioteer, the world will experience victory of righteousness, since You are the embodiment of righteous living.” The day of the battle dawns and:
( Intro | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 )
Arjuna:
They were a hundred—We were but five!
They worked their worst to end us;
Krishna saved us from their fume and fire—
He, the Lord, our shelter, shield and sword.
They robbed our throne, those cousins wild;
They gave us a palace, a prison, ablaze;
They cheated us cruelly, in game of dice,
And threw us in wilderness, for winters twelve.
We five did hide behind borrowed names,
And served in stables, kitchens, dancing halls,
To keep our plighted words—
Though they played false.
We knew—the Truth will triumph!
Lie—must die!
But, yet, on bended knees, we begged them:
Allot us, please, a village each, to own.
The Lord Himself pleaded
For this paltry gift.
But they were loveless, haughty, low and mean,
The hundred greedy grabbers.
They howled so loud and long:
‘Might is right; all else is wrong!
Loyalty, love and charity—
All are blabber!’
They rattled their battle-drums
And blew their bloated conches.
Eleven divisions dared confront us.
We had seven, full, strong and staunch.
We are bound to win; they are doomed to die.
The Lord they denied—is holding our reins.
A stick and thong, called ‘whip,’ He wields,
To fashion the fate of friend and foe.”
Arjuna:
“The sands drip fast; the zero hour has come;
Flags flutter fury, hate aflame, on every face;
Trumpets whine and scream; war horses rear;
The giant elephants, they chaff and champ.
Before I drew my death-dealing bow,
I longed to gaze at their hirelings, once—
And at my own men, most brave and true.
So Krishna led my chariot into the space between!
Fie! Fie on me! My Guru is facing me:
Bhishma, Drone, uncles, playmates,
Tender nephews, former friends;
Have I to foul my hands with kindred blood?
No! No! I have no wish or will to win!
This war is evil, a damned sin!
I would rather wander, with a begging bowl,
Than rule a desert, from a mound of skulls.
On my own side, I notice now,
Youth and strength, eager to strife.
Have I, for fleeting, flickering fame
To slip their silken thread of life?
I am a Kshatriya, born and bred as such;
But must I therefore slay and slaughter
Elders, teachers, kith and kin and common folk?
Filling homes with widows’ sob and mothers’ groan?
I could not hold my bow;
It slipped and fell.
It was all a-shiver. Weeping my fame away,
I fell at my Charioteer’s Feet.
He laughed!
‘I’m lost!’ I cried.
‘Find me, Lord!’
I prayed.”
( Intro | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 )
