Part 2: Those 18 Days @ Mahabharat – HG Chaitanya Charan Prabhuji @ Bhakti Center Gachibowli

Welcome again to the second day of our book discussion, Chitra. I notice some people are missing today for various reasons, but we also have new participants joining us. This series was originally planned for the mornings, but we’ve extended it to include evenings as well. There was a suggestion that we should only focus on the war during the daytime, but we realized that many of us have questions, and the time we had originally planned wasn’t enough to address them all.

So, the format for today will be slightly adjusted. We’ll continue with our series, and tomorrow (Monday), Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday, we’ll have morning sessions here in this same place. Today, Progyny will continue with the discussion, diving deeper into the topics of Arjuna, Abhimanyu, and Karuna, among others. Progyny has already given us a good preview of what to expect.

The good news is that next Sunday, Progyny will continue the same discussions. After that, we’ll likely wrap up by the following Monday, and by then, everyone will have left, I think.

Let me quickly recap what we’ve covered so far. We’re focusing on the 18-day war, specifically some key incidents, and analyzing the characters to see what lessons we can learn from them. We’re also addressing some controversial aspects of their actions. Right now, we’re looking at the actions of Bhishma.

The first eight days of the war were a seesaw affair. Initially, the Kauravas had the upper hand, then the Pandavas took control. Bhishma made a vow to kill the five Pandavas or their five arrows, but Arjuna, at Krishna’s request, turned the tide. Bhishma then declared that he would kill Arjuna unless Shikhandi was involved, and fought with great vigor, eager to see how Krishna would intervene to protect Arjuna.

However, Arjuna was hesitant, not wanting to kill his grandfather. Krishna then stepped in, urging Arjuna not to break his vow. At that point, Krishna turned toward Bhishma and held him responsible for not stopping the war. This was a pivotal moment, as it almost ended the war right there, with the sun nearly setting.

We paused the discussion at this point to explore Bhishma’s character. We examined his actions through a framework of four quadrants: virtue (dharma) on one side and devotion (bhakti) on the other. Bhishma was always devoted to Vishnu, but his sense of dharma was more complicated. For example, his silence during the dishonoring of Draupadi was a questionable act, and we discussed how, despite being dharmic, his actions didn’t always align with righteousness.

Now, as we contrast Bhishma with Karuna, we’ll see that Karuna, too, had a strong sense of dharma but was often caught between conflicting duties and emotions. This brings us to the more complex nature of dharma and its interpretations, which we will continue to explore.

He never had bhakti, but through his association with Duryodhana, he descended further. However, they knew that Arjuna’s determination alone wouldn’t be enough to defeat Bhishma, who was not easily killed. Before the war began, there had been multiple pauses. One was when Arjuna felt that he had made his decision, and at that time, Krishna spoke to him in the Bhagavad-gita. Another pause occurred when Yudhishthira stepped off his chariot, and everyone around him was pleased. They expected Yudhishthira to come for their blessings, as they knew him to be virtuous.

But along with asking for blessings, Yudhishthira also asked, “How can I defeat you?” Each of the warriors gave an enigmatic answer. Bhishma said, “The time for my defeat has not yet come. Come back later, and I will tell you.” Drona said, “I cannot be defeated when I hear disagreeable news from a trustworthy source. At that time, I will surrender, and then you will be able to defeat me.” Shalya said, “I came here to fight on your side, and I will support you in your cause, praying for your victory.”

So, on the evening of the ninth day of the war, Krishna reminded Arjuna of Bhishma’s words and encouraged him to go and ask Bhishma how he could be killed. Arjuna approached the task with a heavy heart, remembering his childhood with Bhishma. He recalled playing with Bhishma’s beard, sitting on his lap, and feeling the dust on his feet. “How can I defeat someone like that? How can I even ask him how I can kill him?” Arjuna said.

Krishna consoled him, saying, “The duty of a Kshatriya is a difficult one. You have made a vow, and despite the relationship of grandfather and grandchild, your duty is clear.” Krishna then reminded Arjuna of Bhishma’s vow as a warrior—to never attack a woman. He also vowed that if anyone came in front of him in battle, he would not shoot arrows at them.

This vow might seem strange to us. Why would Bhishma, a grandfather, tell others how to defeat him? Why would he reveal his weakness? The situation with Bhishma is unique. Though Krishna was celibate and followed the path of self-discipline, he still took on great responsibility for his family. Bhishma, although celibate, had to arrange marriages for his stepbrothers, including getting wives for them. This was not an easy task, especially when Chitrangada had been killed earlier and Chitraviryasa was weak. Bhishma was anxious about the success of the Kuru family line and arranged for the marriages of Amba, Ambika, and Ambalika to ensure their survival. He also had to fight for their honor in contests of arms.

She had given her heart to him and had planned to win the contest. Since Bhishma had taken a vow of celibacy, it was a secret arrangement, but when things didn’t go as she had hoped, she went to Bhishma and insisted that he marry her, blaming him for putting her in this predicament. Bhishma, however, explained that he had taken a vow of celibacy and could not marry. After trying everything she could, Amba eventually decided to perform austerities and entered the river, ending her life.

She vowed to return and seek revenge on Bhishma, as she blamed him for ruining her life. In this case, we can see that there are unfortunate situations and those caused intentionally. Some actions are atrocities, while others are simply adversities that happen to people.

Amba’s tragic situation can be seen as adversity. While she endured great suffering, Bhishma’s refusal to break his vow was not out of malice but rather out of duty, though he did unknowingly contribute to her suffering. Bhishma knew he had played a role in Amba’s misery, but he could not abandon his vows. His decision to not attack Shikhandi in the battle later on was his way of atoning for his past actions.

Now, regarding the ethics of the situation: Bhishma declared that if Shikhandi led the charge and Arjuna shot arrows from behind, he would not attack. This was not something Arjuna wanted, as he did not want to fight his grandfather and certainly didn’t want to win through such a tactic.

Is this ethical? It’s certainly not a fair fight, and Arjuna’s victory over Bhishma in this way could be seen as unethical. However, Arjuna was a skilled warrior capable of defeating Bhishma under normal circumstances, as shown in their earlier encounters.

The war began again the next day, and Arjuna, despite his hesitations, decided to take matters into his own hands. He allowed Shikhandi to lead the charge, and Arjuna, overcoming his inner conflict, finally attacked Bhishma. The battle between Arjuna and Bhishma was long and intense. Krishna, knowing the turmoil in Arjuna’s heart, understood what had to be done. There were many moments during the war when Arjuna became soft-hearted, but Krishna remained composed.

Krishna’s demeanor contrasts with Arjuna’s emotional turmoil. There’s a difference between being cool-headed and being cold-hearted. Being cool-headed means staying calm and rational, not being swayed by emotions. Krishna’s actions might seem cold, but they were necessary to guide Arjuna and ensure the right course of action in the war.

Krishna had to bring Arjuna back to reality. He told Arjuna that today was the day he had to act. Arjuna, hesitant, didn’t want to fight his grandfather, but Krishna reminded him that he had no choice. Bhishma, aware that he could not win against Arjuna, was already struggling.

Shikhandi, who had taken the lead in the charge, was a warrior, but no match for Arjuna. He shot arrows, but Bhishma didn’t dodge them, knowing his time had come. Krishna told Arjuna, “This is your opportunity.” Arjuna, still conflicted, realized that although this would be his victory, he wasn’t the one directly responsible for Bhishma’s downfall. Bhishma continued fighting other warriors on the battlefield, but the arrows kept coming, one after another, piercing his body.

Normally, a charioteer moves the chariot to avoid arrows, or warriors counter arrows to deflect them. But Bhishma didn’t do either. His chariot moved as best it could to dodge, but the arrows from Arjuna kept hitting him. Bhishma, who had never been defeated in his life, now endured countless arrows, yet he did not fall. Eventually, though, when Bhishma was on his chariot, he collapsed.

Duryodhana, seeing his grandfather fall, was overwhelmed with sorrow. He realized that his actions had led to this moment and that he was, in part, responsible for the fall of Bhishma. He ordered physicians to tend to Bhishma, but Bhishma, with his wisdom, rejected their help. Then, Arjuna, seeing his grandfather in pain, shot an arrow into the earth, which emerged and became the support for Bhishma’s head.

Bhishma, thirsty in his final moments, asked for water. Arjuna, always respectful despite the battle, prepared to fetch it for him. Even though Arjuna had caused Bhishma’s fall, his service attitude remained intact.

Duryodhana, devastated, approached Bhishma. With tears in his eyes, Bhishma said to him, “O prince, you have seen that I, who was never defeated, have now been defeated by the Pandavas. Let this be the proof of their victory. Let all hostilities end with my fall. Divide the kingdom equally, and live in peace.”

But Duryodhana, although moved, did not respond. He stayed silent, not willing to agree to Bhishma’s words. Bhishma gazed at him with hopeful eyes, but those hopes were never realized.

As the situation grew clear, it was evident that Bhishma would die soon. However, he chose not to die at that moment. He could have ended his life long ago, when Draupadi was dishonored, when the Pandavas were wronged, but he held on to life with the hope that virtue would ultimately prevail and that the Pandavas would be protected.

Bhishma had made a promise to his father to protect the kingdom, ensuring it would be in safe hands. He wanted to see Krishna’s plan unfold, believing that, in the end, righteousness would triumph. For both personal and spiritual reasons, he chose to stay alive to witness the fulfillment of that promise.

Krishna, witnessing Bhishma’s suffering and determination, blessed him. Despite all the arrows piercing his body, Krishna acknowledged Bhishma’s strength and resolve, and the warrior’s dedication to his vows.

Krishna blesses Bhishma, saying, “I bless you so that you will not feel any pain. You will rise above the consciousness of the body.” This blessing remains with him, day after day. Finally, after the war ends, Yudhishthira suffers even more as he processes the aftermath. Although all the Pandavas are Kshatriyas, Yudhishthira, burdened by guilt, feels it deeply.

There’s a saying in English, “The cost of war is so much that what you gain is far less than what you lose.” The Pandavas lose all their sons—Abhimanyu is the first to die, and soon after, all their other sons are killed. Just when it seems that victory is within reach, the cost of war becomes overwhelming.

Yudhishthira wonders, “What did I fight for?” Throughout the war, he had always believed that he was fighting for his brothers, yet now, after so much loss, he feels the weight of his actions. Kunti then reminds him, “You knew he was your brother. There were two occasions when Kunti could have killed you, but she didn’t.”

Yudhishthira feels utterly culpable, and his guilt consumes him. He tells Kunti, “I cannot be the king. A king must feel responsible for the lives of all his people, but I cannot carry that burden.”

When Yudhishthira finally goes to see Bhishma, Krishna’s instruction to him becomes clear. Bhishma, despite all the atrocities and adversities he endured, had always remained virtuous. Bhishma’s words reveal an important truth: Life in this world will often be unfair, but beyond that, the Lord has a plan that works out for the good of all.

In this way, suffering and its causes can sometimes be hard to understand. We often blame others, or worse, we blame ourselves. We feel like terrible people. But suffering has both a cause and a cure. Sometimes the cause is known, and sometimes the cure is clear. But at other times, both remain unknown. And the hardest thing for the human mind to accept is that we don’t always know the cause, or worse, we can’t fix it.

If we do know the cause and the cure, that is the ideal situation. We can identify the problem and its solution. But when we don’t know, we struggle to accept our ignorance. We want to find someone to blame, someone to hold responsible for the suffering.

The real cure, however, lies in Dharma. Dharma is the right course of action, doing our duty, and living in accordance with the higher principles. This is what leads us to the ultimate cure—Bhakti. In this particular pastime, Vishma’s insight into suffering shows that sometimes the cause of suffering is unknown, but this concept is echoed later in the discussion between Narada and Parikshit. Parikshit asks, “What is the cause of your suffering?” At first glance, this question seems absurd. Why? Because the answer lies in the deeper nature of oneself, which cannot always be easily explained.

You know, the question might seem absurd. Why? Because Parikshit saw the cow and bull being beaten, and yet the answer seems absurd at first. Why? Because different philosophers have different answers. Some say it’s karma. Others say it’s the ego. Some suggest that suffering arises because we are attached to the body—we are the soul, but we identify too strongly with the body.

Each of these ideas has some validity. Ultimately, when it comes to specific suffering, we can’t always point to a single, clear cause. Imagine if a guest comes to our house and says, “I feel very good here,” and we respond by saying, “No, that’s not what the world is about.” Some people might say the purpose of life is to remove the burden of the earth, while others may say we are here to destroy evil kings.

The final response, though, often comes from the speaker’s own perspective. Now, if you see the situation, you may ask: Is it really absurd? What is being said is this: “One who points out a wrongdoer receives the same punishment as the wrongdoer.”

How does that work? If someone wrongs a bank and you point out that the bank was robbed, does that mean both the robber and the person pointing out the crime are equally guilty? This seems absurd, but the deeper meaning is that when we fixate on a particular cause of our suffering—whether it’s blaming someone or something—we become trapped in the ignorance of the material world. In that sense, we are both caught in that same cycle of ignorance.

What Parikshit Maharaj is showing us here is that when we try to find the cause of suffering, if we focus on just one cause, we often get consumed by it. We might start hating the person or situation, and that only further entangles us in material attachments. This doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t take action. We must take action when necessary. But fixating on a specific cause and thinking that fixing it will solve all our problems can be counterproductive. Sometimes, we can’t find the cause at all.

For example, when a child is crying, we might comfort them, and the child may stop crying. But sometimes, despite our efforts, the child continues to cry. We may take the child to the doctor, who might prescribe medicine, but the crying doesn’t stop. In these situations, we often feel the need to find the cause, but our eagerness to do so can make us fixate on the wrong thing. This can lead to unnecessary stress and resentment toward someone or something.

In the case of Yudhishthira, for instance, he’s fixating on himself. He believes he is the cause of all the suffering, which weighs heavily on him. He feels responsible for everything, and this burden only deepens his guilt.

In medicine, there’s a category of diseases called “idiopathic diseases.” “Idiopathic” doesn’t refer to stupidity but to conditions for which the cause is unknown. Sometimes, no clear reason can be found. For example, arthritis might develop without an obvious cause.

It means that some conditions, like certain cancers, are considered idiopathic—meaning their cause is unknown. Sometimes, we just can’t pinpoint the cause. However, we can identify what is going on and find a way to treat it. In many ways, the worldview in Bhakti philosophy is that suffering in this world is like an idiopathic disease: we can’t always know the cause.

Our focus, then, should not be so much on determining the cause as it should be on finding the cure. What can we do about it? We might ask, “How can we find the cure without knowing the cause?” Sometimes, that’s exactly what we have to do.

I was talking to someone recently, and they shared an analogy. When firefighters respond to a blaze, the first thing they often want to know is what caused the fire. If an electrical device is involved, they need to understand that to prevent further incidents. But many times, the cause is unknown, and there’s no one to explain it. In these cases, the focus shifts to what can be done to handle the situation.

Sometimes, things do make sense—we can trace events and figure out the cause. But even when things don’t make sense, we must still do the sensible thing. That’s a consistent theme in our philosophy. This doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to understand the cause so we can find a solution, but we shouldn’t fixate on it. Our focus should be on what actions we can take.

Vishma’s request to Yudhishthira is essentially this: don’t blame yourself for everything, because you can’t know what caused all of this. Even great sages have trouble understanding the full scope of events, but the key is to ask, “What can I do now?” The problem is here; it’s in front of you. You now have to take responsibility and fix it.

When bad things happen, it’s not part of Krishna’s plan, but Krishna can still ensure that His plan is fulfilled, even in the face of adversity. Everything happens within His divine plan. Vishma tells Yudhishthira that now it’s time for him to take responsibility for the kingdom.

He further explains that in Krishna’s plan, sometimes we may appear to be the villains. We may feel like villains, or the world may see us that way. But if we maintain a sincere desire to serve, Krishna will redeem us. Vishma reflects on his own life, saying that although he didn’t always do the right thing, his heart was always in the right place. He always tried to be devoted to the Lord, and the Lord understood his heart. Now, as he faces his final moments, he is reassured that the Lord’s plan is unfolding in his life.

He tells Yudhishthira that the same redemption is possible for him. Although you may feel like the villain now, remember that if you maintain a pure, dharma-conscious attitude—one focused on serving Krishna—the Lord will guide you. Our highest dharma is to serve Krishna, and that’s the ultimate consciousness we should aim for. This doesn’t mean we neglect our duties in the material world, but we should always strive to do the right thing in every situation, with the ultimate goal of serving the Lord.

If we maintain a service attitude, Krishna will lead us to a better place. So, when facing difficulties, when we feel overwhelmed and crushed by troubles, we have two choices: we can either blame someone else, saying, “This person is causing me all this trouble,” or we can blame ourselves, thinking, “I am causing all this trouble.”

In either case, we may end up beating ourselves up. But we shouldn’t focus on that. Throughout his life, Bhishma tried to serve Krishna. He faced challenges, and even when his ventures didn’t succeed, he continued to seek the path of service. Sometimes, life doesn’t make sense, and we can’t always understand the reasons behind our troubles.

The point is that we might never have full clarity on why things happen. Even when we try to figure it out, we may never know all the reasons. One aspect of humility is the acceptance of the unknowable—there are things that are not only unknown, but also unknowable to us. This is a teaching Krishna shares: there are things beyond our understanding. What we can know, however, is what we’re meant to do in any given situation.

When we focus on serving Krishna and ask, “What can I do to serve Krishna right now?” we align ourselves with a higher purpose. Even when circumstances appear challenging, we can demonstrate our devotion and duty. Krishna’s devotees are often tested, and at times, the world may not understand their actions. It may seem like they have chosen an unrighteous path, but from the perspective of devotion, they remain aligned with Krishna’s plan.

In Bhishma’s case, though his actions may have seemed questionable at times, his departure from the world was ultimately glorious. From both a material and spiritual perspective, his journey demonstrated the principles of dharma. His life and death were a testament to his love for Krishna, and also to Krishna’s love for him. This eternal relationship between the Lord and His devotee is what we all strive to enter into through our practice of devotion.

Ultimately, the lesson from Bhishma’s journey is about the vision of life—understanding that there will be moments when our actions seem unclear or even questionable. Krishna guided him, brought him to the understanding that there are times when atonement is necessary, but true atonement comes from humility and surrender to the divine will.

Bhishma accepted that he wouldn’t attack in certain circumstances, allowing his own death to come naturally. His actions showed the depth of his devotion and his understanding of dharma. He consoled Yudhishthira by explaining that the cause of suffering is often difficult to pinpoint. What matters is not the cause but how we respond to suffering and what we can do to alleviate it.

This understanding is crucial in our lives. Sometimes we cannot understand the cause of our suffering, but we can focus on what we can do about it. That is the essence of practicing devotion—focusing on what we can do to serve Krishna, even when the reasons behind our struggles remain unclear.

We often want to find the cause of our suffering, and in doing so, we may assume a false cause. Yudhishthira, for example, believes that his greed for the kingdom is the root of his suffering. He thinks the cure lies in renouncing the kingdom, thinking that if he were not so attached to power, his suffering would end. However, Krishna teaches that the cause is unknowable, but the cure is clear: it is to do your dharma. In this case, Yudhishthira’s dharma is to rule the kingdom, as it is the will of the Lord.

Krishna tells him that just as He himself has followed His dharma, Yudhishthira must fulfill his own. The key focus here is not on identifying the cause of suffering, which may be karma, but on the cure, which is to perform one’s dharma. Much of the suffering in the world, Krishna explains, may seem idiopathic—that is, we don’t always know the cause. Yet, instead of dwelling on the unknown cause, we should focus on how we can help and alleviate suffering.

This brings us to the ideal departure of Bhishma. The world is complex, and even when we pray for guidance, asking Krishna to help us make the right decisions, sometimes we still make mistakes. In such cases, the important thing is to keep our heart devoted to Krishna. As long as we remain sincere in our devotion, we can trust that Krishna will guide us to Him, regardless of the errors we may make along the way.

Sometimes we may know the cause of suffering but not the cure. In those moments, we simply have to tolerate the situation, accepting that we can’t do much to change it. If we do know the cause and the cure, we can take action accordingly. But when we don’t know the cause, we act with our best intelligence: focusing on what we can do in the present situation, regardless of whether we understand the cause.

For instance, if firefighters know the cause of a fire, they can address it more effectively. But if they don’t know the cause, they still need to act to put out the fire. Similarly, in life, even when we can’t identify the specific cause of our troubles, we still need to respond to the situation with our best efforts.

This approach is important because seeking a specific cause and cure can sometimes paralyze us. It is only when we fixate on a particular cause and cure that we may feel helpless, as if nothing can be done. But if we let go of the need for precise answers, we can move forward in a way that addresses the issue at hand.

At times, this requires a mindset of acceptance. For example, if we find ourselves in a difficult situation, we can choose to believe that there is a higher purpose behind it, even if we can’t see it. Krishna may have a plan for us, and we can trust that everything happens for a reason.

In summary, while we may seek causes and cures, the ultimate lesson is about how we act in the present moment. If we focus on doing what we can to serve Krishna and fulfill our dharma, we can navigate through suffering with grace.

This is demonstrated in the Mahabharata and the Bhagavad Gita, where even in the face of hardship, we see the importance of doing our duty and keeping faith in the divine plan.

By simply staying on guard and not trying to counterattack, Gurudev would eventually calm down. Unfortunately, Gurudev’s actions only escalated thereafter. The consciousness with which we accept situations is crucial. However, even in these moments, we must strive to understand and manage our emotions.

Now, when we look at the example of Yudhishthira, we can see that his strength was not just in his physical abilities but in his unwavering faith in Krishna. For instance, Draupadi’s unwavering faith in Krishna, even when she was subjected to the greatest dishonor, remains a perennial source of inspiration. Even after Krishna showed his universal form and thwarted Duryodhana’s plans, Duryodhana continued to maintain his false belief, thinking that Krishna’s divine form was merely a magic trick.

Similarly, when the Pandavas suffered great losses, especially on the first day of the war, it was Krishna’s words of wisdom that helped them regain balance. His words were crucial in restoring Yudhishthira’s sense of direction and hope.

When Yudhishthira learned of Abhimanyu’s death, his heart was overwhelmed with turmoil. He contemplated taking revenge on the Kauravas or dying in battle himself. But Krishna, through his wisdom, calmed him and assured him of the right course of action. Krishna told Yudhishthira to be patient, that the time would come when he could avenge Abhimanyu’s death, but for now, he should stay focused on his duties.

After the war, when Yudhishthira expressed his desire for renunciation, the others were bewildered. It seemed strange to them, especially after all they had gone through. Yudhishthira’s struggles were not just against external forces, but also against his inner dilemmas, between competing dharmas. This inner conflict led to moments of indecision. This is an important aspect of dharma: it’s not always clear-cut, and sometimes, as seen with Yudhishthira, one must face choices that pull them in different directions.

When Duryodhana was unable to succeed in his various schemes to bring suffering to the Pandavas, he became increasingly condescending. He dismissed the advice of the sages and insulted them, which ultimately led to his downfall. The suffering of the Pandavas was transient, and though it was heart-wrenching, it served as a reminder that even the greatest suffering can be a test of one’s devotion and resolve.

It is a lesson for all of us: life is filled with complex challenges, but ultimately, it is how we react and stay committed to our dharma that determines our spiritual progress.

The key takeaway here is that Krishna’s teachings are not just for any one person; they are universal. Krishna would guide anyone who came to him with a sincere heart. And while we may speculate on how Krishna would guide different characters, the ultimate lesson is always to follow dharma, regardless of the circumstances.

In the case of Arjuna, he made some tough decisions, including choosing to act in a way that was not his original dharma. But as time went on, he understood the importance of staying true to his own path, and through Krishna’s guidance, he was able to realize his true potential.

Life may bring us unfair situations, but Krishna teaches us to accept what is meant to be and move forward with faith. If we can truly accept that certain things are not meant to be, then we can focus on what is within our control and act with wisdom. We must always keep in mind that the taste of success or joy may feel like nectar at first but can turn to poison later. However, Krishna guides us to find the true path, even when circumstances seem overwhelming.

The greatest victory is not in avoiding the struggles of life but in handling them with the right consciousness, the right understanding, and devotion. Like Arjuna, who faced unimaginable challenges, we too must trust that Krishna’s guidance will lead us through even the most difficult times.

So, in this moment, you are the wife of a hero—Arjuna’s wife—and you are asked to be the wife of a hero like Arjuna. What Shakuni did during the war involved using cunning tricks, but Krishna actually outwitted Shakuni in every way. Shakuni carried out his schemes before and during the war, but ultimately, it was Krishna’s guidance that prevailed over Shakuni’s deceit.

There’s a beautiful statement by Lord Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita, where he says, “I cannot be found in the Vedas, nor in any other texts. I am not here, nor there, but I am present where my devotees are gathered, discussing and chanting my name.” This highlights how Krishna is present wherever his devotees come together in devotion and conversation.

By the way, I didn’t plan to bring this up. I simply stood up and the thought occurred to me. It’s interesting how Krishna’s message often comes to us when we least expect it.

There’s also a book by Prabhuji that elaborates on the 700 verses of the Bhagavad Gita, connecting each verse to others in the scripture. He explains how each verse relates to others and how the verses support each other. In some cases, the verses are explained using contextual stories from the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, which serve to both negate and include deeper meanings. This process of negation and inclusion helps us understand the broader context of the teachings.

In a session with 100 people, a question is asked, starting with the first person and continuing around the group. Each person contributes their perspective, and eventually, the first person is asked to respond again. This discussion is a way to unravel deeper meanings and answers that may not be immediately clear.

During the war in Mahabharata, there were many instances when warriors got injured and had to be carried out. One might say they were defeated, but they often returned to rejoin the battle. This continuous struggle symbolizes the ongoing effort and perseverance of warriors. Arjuna, after spending time in the forest performing austerities, gained various divine weapons. These preparations helped him when the war resumed, and he was able to face his challenges more effectively.

In the context of the war, weapons were used to gain an upper hand. For example, there were moments when warriors had specific strategies to defeat their opponents. When one side faced a new weapon or strategy, they had to adapt to it quickly. This constant adaptation and learning were key to survival in the battle.

As for Bheeshma, he knew what had to be done in certain situations. His sense of duty and his vow sometimes led him to make difficult decisions, even when the consequences were clear. His commitment to dharma was strong, but it did not always lead him to the ideal solution. In some ways, he was like someone caught in a situation where the right path was clear, but circumstances made it difficult to act as expected.

There’s a parallel between Bheeshma’s situation and the challenges faced by others who know what should be done but are constrained by duty, vows, or circumstances. In both cases, the ideal solution seems clear, but the path to it is fraught with challenges and sometimes tragic consequences.

This scenario of knowing what needs to be done but not being able to fully implement it speaks to the complexity of life and dharma. The struggle lies in reconciling what we know to be right with the actions we must take, and often, the process involves self-sacrifice and a deep commitment to duty.

Right? You know, it’s happening right now. We’re not able to do anything, and we question Bheeshma, asking why he didn’t do anything.

I think this is a metaphor that I’ve heard used many times in our moments as well. Something’s going on somewhere, and there’s a senior devotee there who doesn’t really take action. People wonder why they’re not doing anything, asking why they are like Vishnu while X, Y, and Z are acting. It’s possible that in this case, the metaphor doesn’t perfectly apply, but it’s not a straightforward comparison either because Bheeshma had a particular role.

For Bheeshma, it wasn’t weakness so much as a deep commitment to his fixed focus on dharma. His focus on one aspect of dharma led him to make decisions that might seem perplexing, but it was a matter of prioritizing his vows. Ultimately, these are great characters we’re talking about. When we analyze them, we should focus not so much on who was right but on what was right in their circumstances. We may not fully understand every judgment they made, but we can learn from how they responded to challenges.

After the pandemic, two significant things have happened. One is that there’s a growing recognition of the importance of images and narratives in shaping how we view history.

Another shift is that, as we adapt to these changes, it has become more important to see how historical wrongs were dealt with and how we’ve evolved in response. In the past, due to India’s violent partition and religious tensions, the government tried to sanitize history by avoiding incidents that could rekindle divisions. They tended to whitewash attacks or overlook contentious moments.

However, now, there are many writers and historians addressing these issues and bringing them into the open. Yes, we did lose battles and wars in the past, and some were devastating losses, but those losses have prepared us for the bigger battles ahead. In many ways, the formation of advocacy groups and increased awareness of historical bonds is a positive shift.

The question always arises: should we learn history to understand what happened, or should we learn it to prevent disruptions in the present? The problem with the second approach is that it can become biased, serving the interests of a particular group or agenda. Most of us have stayed away from politics, but the situation is changing now. These two shifts are significant, but overall, there’s a greater awakening to these issues, and that’s a positive development.

They’ll be held accountable, or at least the atrocities will stop. Sometimes when you enter a big system, you agree to turn a blind eye to certain things, or you simply ignore them.

Take Mahabharata, for example: that one incident shows the different shades of various characters. If that one event were removed from the Mahabharata, everyone would seem flawless, doing the right thing. It would be easy to glorify the characters, but that one evening, or morning—I’m not sure—completely changed the perception of almost every character, including the Pandavas, Bhima, Arjuna, Nakula, Sahadeva, Yudhishthira, Karna, Shakuni, Duryodhana, Dushasana, Vidura, and others. The question arises: is this becoming an excuse? Could we use it as an excuse tomorrow and say, “It could happen to me too”?

So, what lesson should we learn from the changing shades of these characters’ actions? Ultimately, our scriptures show that even vulnerable characters have made questionable decisions. But do we interpret these actions as lessons to follow? That’s the question.

Take Bheeshma, for example. Is Bheeshma’s silence the lesson we should learn from? Should we be silent, not just about external situations, but in our own lives as well? If we act like that, we might miss out on the deeper messages of the tradition.

My understanding is that sometimes, when wrong things are happening and some seniors stay silent, we might feel disappointed by their silence. But we must remember that they may have their reasons for acting the way they do. For us, as smaller individuals, it’s important to realize that we may not have the full picture.

That’s why we shouldn’t use their silence as an excuse to justify our own actions. Certainly, it’s not right to say, “Something bad is happening, but I can’t do anything about it,” as an excuse to remain passive. Sometimes, we may not have the power to change a situation, but that doesn’t mean we do nothing. We need to play the long game. Even when we see something wrong, we may not have the power to fix it right away. But by growing through service and sharing, we can eventually make a difference.

We grow in understanding and in position. Maybe later on, we’ll have the ability to fix some things. There are always bad things in the world, and it’s often difficult when these bad things are allowed by good people—or even done by good people. It’s a tough situation.

We could use this as a matter of meaning, I would say. When you’re reflecting on Arjuna, such a strong character, seeing his wife being dishonored, and witnessing his most respected grandfather right there, not acting, it’s hard to comprehend. Yet, despite everything, Arjuna still carried love and affection for his grandfather on the battlefield, as you mentioned earlier. The concept of honoring one’s word is something that’s difficult for many of us to truly grasp.

Does that mean that even Yudhishthira and the Pandavas should have stayed silent when Draupadi was being dishonored? Are they bound by their word? We could ask that question too. It seems that the actions of the characters in the Mahabharata, especially in this situation, are almost incomprehensible to us. In fact, it’s a bizarre situation where almost everyone’s actions seem hard to understand.

Sometimes, finding the cause of something can be a significant part of our service, and we try to do that. How far we go depends on two factors: our position and our disposition.

For example, if someone’s job is to do research, then they should continue that work in their position. In one sense, humanity’s search for knowledge doesn’t have to be abandoned. However, we need to maintain perspective: how much is this search costing us, and is the cost worth it? Like I mentioned earlier, can we learn from the past, or are we replaying it so much that we’re stuck in it, unable to move on? That’s a difficult thing to navigate.

I don’t think there’s a single answer to this. But for some people, if this search is their service, they should continue doing it. That’s their job, their service.

And for others, there’s this need to understand the forces that altered the course of world history. If Shakuni hadn’t been so influential, the Kauravas might have even gone on to rule the world. She’s the main reason everything the Kauravas wanted didn’t come to fruition.

Bhima took the blood off, and Draupadi had washed her hair. She never tied her hair again after that incident. The horrible event that happened might be true, but even then, the loss of her honor and the disappointment she must have felt were hard to bear. Of course, it was a difficult time, both for her as well as for those around her. Bhima took action, and in many ways, the whole expectation and outcome of that test seemed to alter their perspectives. This event changed their vision and the way they saw the world.

In a way, accepting that there is a bigger reality outside of this world is part of the process. This world is real, but there is a greater reality beyond it. The story of life does not end here, and sometimes justice does not manifest in this life. When bad things happen, it’s very difficult to understand and compare them to anything else.

As far as Draupadi goes, from what I’ve read and discussed with others, there were moments when she was angry. But it’s not that her relationship with the Pandavas was permanently broken. That didn’t happen. In fact, Yudhishthira, who took part in the gambling, tried to play by the rules set by those who compelled him to participate in the game. He stayed with his brothers during that time. Later, in the forest, he was under even greater pressure to refuse the offer, but he continued the gamble.

His mindset was that he thought his cause was right. Even when he lost, he believed the next bet would go his way. He had this sense of determination, thinking that his efforts were justified. Yet, at some point, the reality of the situation began to settle in. Despite his efforts, things weren’t turning out as planned, and he had to adapt.

He later sent a message to Sanjay, offering his best wishes and acknowledging that everything in life is temporary. Rationalizing what happened, he accepted the agreement that was made, and in doing so, he learned the hard way.

So, did justice happen for Draupadi? Not really. But was it unfair? Adversity comes to everyone, no matter who we are, how good we are, or how powerful we are. The important thing is that adversity is a part of life.

I’ll speak to this in one aspect: How many people have the opportunity to ask such questions and even get answers? Just think about it. I’ve spent 48 years of my life, and how many people have the audacity and confidence to ask these questions and seek answers?

And the answers come at different levels. The key is to increase our faith that Krishna is always there. That’s the whole point.

So Ravi is here for the next 9 days in Optus. I’m not sure about the exact schedule, but he’ll be here for more than just the next few days. Sometimes, Mahabharata is seen as a story, like a fictional tale, but that’s a different way of looking at it. Ravi will be explaining it in the coming days, starting Monday morning, then continuing on Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, and next Monday, as well as Sunday, February 2nd. He’s going to continue sharing these marvelous teachings.

Don’t think that your questions haven’t been answered yet because Ravi will discuss what Arjuna went through in the coming week. This week is specially designed for each of us who are here, gathered in this moment. Somehow, in this lifetime, we have all come together, virtually, to hear these answers.

And I would personally encourage you to ask your questions, question by question. Let’s strive to get the answers we need. Let’s be eager for those answers and focus only on the questions that really matter to our lives. Even the great saints sometimes cannot answer every question. I’ve learned this from ancient teachings — sometimes, a guru will just look at the questioner and move on, because the question isn’t something that will change their life.

So, why don’t we jot down our questions for the next 6 or 7 days? Let’s make sure they’re questions that will help us become more dedicated, more surrendered, and better aligned with the divine mission. Let’s focus on questions that will make a real difference in our lives. We should come back with that mindset tomorrow and in the days ahead. And let’s thank Prabhuji for his insightful answers and his enthusiasm to continue sharing these teachings with us.

Thank you all. Let’s express our gratitude. And here is an amazing, beautifully written book. Many of you may already have it, but if not, you can take one and even gift it to your friends. I’ve gifted it to my boss, and he really liked it. It’s a beautifully designed book, printed by HarperCollins, and it’s professionally done with a great font and layout. It’s a fantastic gift for anyone’s birthday.

Right? So why don’t you get it signed? When I gave it to my boss — actually, my customer — I showed him the book and also had his name written by Prabhuji. I told him, “Why don’t you come?” He was supposed to come here to Liberty.

Thank you, Madhuri and Drowsy. Also, there’s a request: today, there is a plan for Jelanath and Goranath. While the Aarti is being offered, you can make a quick line.

You can form a quick line, with 5 people at a time. Go one by one. It won’t take much time. Just take the Ashman there, and you can come up like this to do your part.

The rest of you can come up and take your book for signing afterward.

Adi Krishna, hello! Would you like to say a few words?

Thank you, Krishna. And thank you to everyone joining online. We’ll continue tomorrow. Please join us for the remaining sessions. We have 6 more sessions on Mahabharata and its characters.