The story of Vishvamitra – part 2 – Overcoming anger and arrogance

Hare Krishna!

So, in America right now, there is a Sadhusanga festival happening. Every year, it takes place during the long weekend. Many devotees gather there and engage in hours and hours of Kirtan.
I was just talking to one devotee who had been inviting me to attend the Kirtan festival. I told him, “Right now, I’m in my own Kirtan festival.”
It’s wonderful to see all of your enthusiasm for Harinam and Harinam Sankirtan.

Now, I’ll quickly recap what I was talking about yesterday regarding the story of Vishwamitra. I’ll summarize the key points we covered, and then we’ll move forward.
We are exploring how we can learn from scriptures about the challenges we will face in life and how we can handle them. Some people ask, “Scriptures were written thousands of years ago—are they really relevant today?”
Yes, it’s true that our situations may differ greatly from those of the past, but more than the external problems we face, what truly defines our life are the internal challenges.

Today, we see people with phenomenal material comforts still experiencing alarming levels of unhappiness. If you were to describe modern society in two words, it would be “comfortably miserable.” We are far more comfortable than people were in the past, yet we are still miserable. So, if we focus only on improving the external aspects of our lives—whether in the world of today or the world described in scriptures—it may seem like there is a difference, and indeed, there is. But the internal world remains the same.
Just as it doesn’t matter whether we’re flying by plane or walking on foot, the sky is illuminated the same way, with the same sun and moon, whether we’re traveling in one way or another. Similarly, scriptures offer timeless truths. While there may be specific variations that don’t apply to us today, the core principles still hold.

We’re looking at Vishwamitra’s story through the lens of the timeless journey that each of us must go through.
Yesterday, I spoke about how Vishwamitra, when he was a powerful king, became increasingly power-hungry. The nature of power often leads people to crave more. He wanted to seize the source of Vasistha’s power, which was the Surabhi cow. When his efforts were thwarted twice—first by the cow, which produced an endless army of soldiers, and then by Vasistha, who used a mystical staff to counter his weapons—Vishwamitra was stunned.

There are multiple stages to this story. Initially, Vishwamitra tried to overpower Vasistha through Kshatriya means. Normally, if one Kshatriya warrior cannot defeat another, they might seek better weapons. So Vishwamitra performed austerities to please Shiva and gained a whole arsenal of celestial weapons. But when he used them against Vasistha, Vasistha countered them effortlessly with his staff. Vishwamitra was shocked. He realized that Kshatriya power could not match Brahminical power. So, he decided to perform even more austerities to gain Brahminical power, not just to gain more weapons, but to access spiritual power.

During his austerities, he was first tempted by desire. I spoke about Menaka’s arrival, and how even the most disciplined among us can be distracted by desire. Everyone has goals, and even material pursuits often require discipline. I talked about how impulses can distract us. When Vishwamitra resisted that temptation and transcended it, the next challenge that came to him was anger. Desire and anger are often connected. In the Dharmic tradition, it’s said that krodha (anger) is the younger brother of kama (desire). Anger outwardly manifests as aggression, and inwardly, it manifests as depression. When we’re depressed, we’re often just angry with ourselves—“Why am I not good enough?”

In today’s world, we see both of these forms of anger. Sometimes, they manifest as frustrated desires. Vishwamitra was not immune to this either. During his austerities, Indra, feeling insecure, sent another apsara—Rambha. Vishwamitra was now alert and determined not to fall for the same temptation. However, what often happens is that when we gain some level of self-control, we develop the subtle notion that we are the controllers.

When we succeed in controlling our senses, we may begin to think we are in control of everything. This is a dangerous trap. If we cannot control ourselves at all, we don’t have a strong sense of being the controller. But once we start gaining some self-control, the illusion that we are in charge can grow stronger. And when this sense of control is disturbed, it can lead to overreactions. Self-control is important, but when we become attached to the idea of being the controller, we can become intolerant of anything that disrupts our sense of control.

This is why sages who practice spirituality without connecting to the Supreme Lord can be vulnerable to anger. Of course, we should practice self-control, but the purpose of self-control is not to dominate the external world. The purpose is to serve Krishna better. The goal of self-control is to offer our will to the Supreme Controller.

When Rambha came before Vishwamitra, he did not succumb to desire. But when his sense of control was disrupted, his anger flared up. He was determined to succeed, and he couldn’t tolerate any temptation. His anger burst out, and he cursed Rambha. Sometimes, this happens to us too—when we are so controlled that we become hard-hearted. We dismiss all emotions as sentimentality, and this can lead to harshness. Vishwamitra’s curse transformed Rambha into a stone.

Of course, since she had come on Indra’s behalf, he eventually rescued her.

But at this point, what happened? Whenever anyone performs austerity, they gain certain powers from that. However, the nature of power is that, just like Lakshmi is fickle—wealth comes and goes—some people say money talks. If someone arrives in a fancy car or wearing expensive clothes, everyone takes notice. Money talks, indeed, but money talks and walks away while it’s talking. What this means is that the more we display our wealth, the more we spend to show it off.

It’s similar when we focus on showcasing our power. Eventually, if we don’t use it wisely, it will be lost. This is true for any form of power. When Vishwamitra used his mystic power to curse Rambha, what happened? He lost that power and fell back.

Now, what do we mean by “losing power”? Power here is not like a bank account where you can see a withdrawal. It’s not literal. But you can consider that consciousness is our most important resource. When we are distracted, we are disempowered. Whatever we want to do in life—whether it’s studying, speaking, or anything else—good memory, analytical skills, and articulation are helpful, but all these things are effective only if our consciousness is in control. If we are distracted, nothing works. So, consciousness is our most fundamental resource.

When we focus, our consciousness becomes concentrated and purposeful. But when we allow it to get misdirected, we lose that focus, that power. When Vishwamitra gave in to anger, he became frustrated again, losing his focus. He didn’t want to be distracted anymore.

Now, what should we do about anger? We all get angry sometimes. When we feel angry, sometimes our devotion might even justify it. We might say, “My anger is like Hanuman’s anger when he burned Lanka.” But even Hanuman regretted his anger after burning Lanka. He wondered if he had burned the Ashoka Vatika and whether Sita had been harmed. When he realized Sita was safe, a celestial voice reassured him.

The point is, Hanuman didn’t celebrate his anger, but he used it in the service of Lord Ram. Anger, in this sense, can go off course if not controlled. Managing anger is a big topic, but generally, we need to develop our “pause button.”

When we experience emotions like anger, we need to process them. The pause button works by two things: changing the situation or changing our perspective. If the situation is triggering us, we may need to move away from it. If we are in a provocative environment, staying in it may just fuel the fire. We’re all inflammable to varying degrees. Changing the situation can help avoid worsening things.

Alternatively, changing perspective means looking at things in a new light. This is where Krishna consciousness comes in. When anger arises, chant Hare Krishna. Chanting Hare Krishna isn’t just a ritual; it’s a mood where we surrender to Krishna, asking to serve Him.

We must find out which pause button works best for us. For some, chanting may work. For others, recalling verses from scripture or remembering how destructive anger can be might help. For some, just shifting our thoughts—by listening to soothing kirtan music or thinking of Krishna—can calm us. We need to discover our own pause button because, without it, we will be overwhelmed by our emotions.

As Vishwamitra progressed, he gained more and more power. However, as he grew powerful, more people started recognizing him as a great sage. This introduces a different aspect: competition. Competition can be constructive or destructive. Destructive competition is about pulling others down to elevate ourselves, which is unhealthy. Vishwamitra was driven by the desire to prove he was greater than Vashistha. This “other-centered” thinking never leads to peace or satisfaction.

Attachment is usually seen as undesirable because it distracts us from our true purpose. However, aversion can be just as distracting. When we’re averse to someone, we might spend the entire time looking around for that person, wondering if they’ve arrived, just as someone might constantly check for the person they’re attached to. So, aversion can be as distracting as attachment.

Vishwamitra, though, was still other-centered. He wanted to prove that he was greater than Vashistha. He wasn’t concerned with his own growth but with defeating someone else. This leads to unhealthy competition.

One such story involves King Trishanku. He desired to go to heaven while still in his body. Normally, people go to heaven after they leave their body, provided they have lived piously. But Trishanku didn’t want that. He wanted to ascend to heaven with his earthly body. This is where he differed from the norm, thinking that if his body went to heaven, he would achieve immortality.

He went to Vashistha, who told him it was impossible, and Trishanku, dissatisfied with the answer, sought out another solution. He went to Vishwamitra to fulfill his desire.

As soon as Vishwamitra heard that Trishanku wanted to go to heaven in his body, he was about to say no. But Trishanku explained that he had already asked Vashistha, who told him it was impossible, and now he wanted to know if it was possible for Vishwamitra.

As soon as Vishwamitra heard this, he felt an opportunity to prove his power. This is a good example of how questions can be framed to influence the response. For example, if a naïve car salesman simply asks, “Would you like to buy this car?” a more experienced salesman might ask, “Which car would you like, the red one, the green one, or the yellow one?” By phrasing the question this way, the buyer doesn’t even have the option to decline buying a car.

Similarly, Trishanku’s question was framed to manipulate Vishwamitra. “If Vashistha can’t do it, can you?” The question was designed to create a sense of competition and challenge. Trishanku knew that Vishwamitra’s ego might be triggered, and he was right. Vishwamitra, feeling challenged, agreed to take on the task.

Vishwamitra began performing a sacrificial ritual and used his mystic power to send Trishanku upwards. As Trishanku began rising, Vishwamitra noticed he was ascending, higher and higher, eventually reaching the heavens. But this ascent wasn’t simply geographical; it was karmic.

In the Vedic cosmology, “up” doesn’t just refer to physical direction. It refers to a state of spiritual or karmic elevation. Just as a data entry operator has limited access to a computer, a powerful person may have access to different levels of spiritual or karmic realms. Trishanku’s ascent was an elevation of his karmic position, not just a physical one.

As Trishanku rose, the alarms in Swarga (heaven) went off. Indra saw what was happening and used his celestial powers to bring Trishanku back down. Vishwamitra, undeterred, used his mystic powers to send Trishanku back up, but Indra intervened again, sending him back down. This back-and-forth went on for a while, with Trishanku becoming like a tennis ball bouncing between the two.

Frustrated, Trishanku asked Vishwamitra what was happening. Vishwamitra, feeling bound by his word to help, decided to create a new heaven for Trishanku. This heaven would be a temporary one, created using his mystic powers. However, this was not a perfect solution, as creating and sustaining such a place required an immense amount of energy and power.

It’s like someone buying a plane and flying it around, only to realize that the fuel is running out. Vishwamitra’s karmic power began to get exhausted as he sustained the new heaven for Trishanku. This is a reminder of how our ambitions can be driven by ego.

Sometimes, people pursue things just to demonstrate their greatness to the world. I once met someone on a train who had been growing his nails for seven years to set a Guinness World Record. After winning the award, he had to cut his nails, only to find that his hand had atrophied from lack of use. This is an extreme example of how pursuing something for the sake of ego can lead to unintended consequences.

Ambition is natural; we all want to grow in different areas of life. But the key is to grow in a balanced and healthy way. Just as cancer is uncontrolled growth in the body, excessive or misguided ambition can be harmful. Some people, for instance, become workaholics, sacrificing their health and relationships to work. Later, they spend all their wealth trying to regain their health. Similarly, unchecked ambition can lead to destruction.

Vishwamitra had immense power, but his journey was sidetracked by desire, anger, and arrogance. He wanted to prove how great he was to the world, which led him to create a heaven for Trishanku, but at a great cost. This is a lesson that we, too, must be mindful of in our spiritual journey—our purpose is not to demonstrate our greatness to the world, but to deepen our connection with Krishna. If we focus on our spiritual growth, that will be enough, and the rest will follow naturally.

We will be absorbed in Him and we will attain Him.
Finally, after all this happened, as the heavenly planet started crumbling down, Trishanku cried out, “Help, help! Whom should I pray to now?” He began fervently praying to Lord Vishnu, saying, “Oh Lord Vishnu, please help me, help me!”
He was a sage with scriptural knowledge and offered sincere prayers. Upon hearing his fervent prayers, Vishnu appeared before him.

Vishnu, seeing the situation, spoke to Trishanku: “Your desire is unhealthy. It is a disharmonious desire. By satisfying it, you have created disharmony in the universe. You may want to please or satisfy someone’s desires, but it is not just about fulfilling any desire of those we love. Sometimes, love also means saying no to someone.”

For example, if parents pander to every desire of their children, the children might ask for something harmful, like eating a hundred chocolates in one day. Parents, in an effort to satisfy their child’s desire, might inadvertently harm them. In the same way, Vishnu told Vishwamitra, “Don’t pander to these immature desires. Don’t lose your power like this.”

Vishnu also pointed out that even though Trishanku’s desire had been manipulated, the results had been disruptive. Finally, Vishnu declared that Trishanku would be suspended in between heaven and earth, neither here nor there. This state came to be known as the “Trishanku state”—a symbol of something suspended in between.

However, Trishanku’s contact with Vishnu purified Vishwamitra. He continued his austerities, and his power became so strong that fire emanated from his body. The gods looked at each other, worried that they might not be able to control him anymore.

When a problem becomes too big, it’s common to escalate it. A child might first go to an elder brother, then to the parents, or even the school principal. In this case, the gods, realizing they couldn’t control Vishwamitra, went to Brahma. Brahma appeared before Vishwamitra and said, “Your austerities and perseverance have earned you the merit to be a sage. You are now a Brahma Rishi.”

Vishwamitra heard this, but still, his heart wasn’t satisfied. He longed to hear this acknowledgment from Vashistha, his rival. So, Vashistha, a descendant of Brahma, came to Vishwamitra and declared, “You are a Brahma Rishi.” The moment these words were spoken, Vishwamitra felt a deep inner satisfaction, and all the anger, resentment, and competitive mentality within him disappeared.

This moment shows that we may begin our spiritual journey for any motive, but if we persist and connect with the Lord, that connection purifies us.

After attaining the Brahma Rishi status, Vishwamitra realized there was something more—devotion. He deeply longed for a connection with Vishnu. This desire, rooted in sincerity, led him to play a crucial role in the story of Lord Ram in the Ramayana.

The sage Shatananda, the priest of King Janak, narrated Vishwamitra’s story. Shatananda served the dynasty of King Janak, the father of Sita. Vishwamitra’s story exemplifies how a seeker, though reaching the status of Brahma Rishi, might seek something greater—devotion to the Lord.

When Lord Ram incarnated in this world, Vishwamitra was granted the opportunity to be his teacher. Though not a Diksha guru, Vishwamitra became Ram’s Shiksha guru, teaching him martial arts.

One day, Vishwamitra visited the palace of King Dashrath. Normally, kings would visit sages, but when a powerful sage like Vishwamitra arrived, it raised curiosity. Vishwamitra explained that demons were troubling the world and that he needed Ram, not Dashrath’s army, to deal with them. Dashrath was concerned because Ram was just a child, inexperienced in war.

Vishwamitra, however, was insistent. His anger flared up, and his eyes turned red. He said, “You promised to fulfill my wish. Will you dishonor your word?”

At this point, Vashistha intervened and reassured Dashrath that Vishwamitra could handle the demons himself but wanted Ram to fight alongside him. Vashistha explained that Ram was no ordinary child—he was the Supreme Lord Himself incarnate. For those close to the Lord, like Dashrath, the knowledge of his divinity was secondary to the love they felt.

Convinced by Vashistha’s words, Dashrath allowed Ram and his brother Lakshman to go with Vishwamitra. Vishwamitra taught Ram the Atibala and Atibala mantras, granting him supernatural strength. Though young, Ram defeated the demons Subahu and Tataka, and sent Maricha flying far away using the airways. Ram’s victory over these powerful demons was a spectacular display of divine strength.

There are different ways we can glorify someone. One way is to simply speak the glories of a person. Vishwamitra, being an elder sage and Ram being young, didn’t directly glorify Ram in that particular service. One way of glorifying someone is to praise them, but another way is to provide them with a platform where their glories can be manifested.

For example, the devotees would glorify Srila Prabhupada by speaking his praises and also by organizing big programs where Prabhupada would speak and attract people’s hearts. In the same way, Vishwamitra’s service to Ram was not merely to praise him, but to provide opportunities for Ram’s glories to be revealed.

The first way Vishwamitra glorified Ram was by guiding him to overpower great demons at a young age. But Vishwamitra also desired to reveal Ram’s glories to the entire world. To do so, he took Ram to the place where all the great kings had assembled: the Swayamvar of Sita in Janakpuri. There, they had a massive bow of Lord Shiva, which was so heavy that nobody could lift it.

Applause can be for appreciation, or it can be for the conclusion of an event. As the Swayamvar began, many great warriors had assembled, and the bow of Shiva, called the Trambak Bhanjaka, was displayed. It was so powerful that no one could even lift it. When Sita, as a young girl, approached it, she effortlessly lifted the bow to clean it, surprising everyone around her. The maids fainted, and when one ran to inform King Dashratha, he was astonished.

Dashratha, realizing Sita’s immense power, thought to himself, “If Sita has such power, her husband must be powerful enough to handle her strength.” Sita’s future husband had to be able to at least string the bow. This was because to string the bow, immense strength was required. It wasn’t just about lifting the bow; it had to be bent and strung with tremendous force.

When the kings gathered to try to string the bow, they all failed, even Ravana. Then, Ram came forward. He circled the bow, folded his hands in respect, and effortlessly picked it up. A hushed silence fell over the assembly as he took the string and pulled it with such force that a thunderous sound filled the air, causing everyone to faint. As they regained consciousness, they were stunned by what had just happened.

Vishwamitra stood proudly, watching his student Ram, knowing he wasn’t just a student—he was the Supreme Lord. When Sita approached and offered the garland to Ram, Vishwamitra was honored to be a part of this intimate service—uniting Sita with Ram, or Lakshmi with Narayan.

This, in essence, was the ultimate success of Vishwamitra’s spiritual journey. The purpose of bhakti is to unite the resources of this world (symbolized by Sita and Lakshmi) with their source, the Supreme Lord. Our success in devotion comes when we, like Vishwamitra, persevere on the spiritual path and ultimately serve the Lord.

Vishwamitra’s journey exemplifies how, despite starting with impure motives, one can eventually be purified through perseverance and devotion. His story shows that even if we come to the spiritual path with mixed desires, we can gradually purify our hearts and ultimately attain the highest perfection in our lives.

To summarize, I spoke about Vishwamitra’s journey today, highlighting how scriptures guide us with timeless truths. While external situations may change, our real challenges are internal, such as weaknesses and distractions. The scriptures help us overcome these and provide eternal wisdom.

Vishwamitra’s search for power and recognition led him to first seek Kshatriya weapons, then Brahminical powers, and eventually spiritual power. But initially, his desire for spiritual power was driven by material motives. Over time, however, he encountered distractions such as lust, anger, and arrogance. These obstacles were purifying for him as he overcame them through perseverance.

In the end, Vishwamitra realized that material achievement was insufficient. His contact with Vishnu purified him, and even after achieving the status of Brahma Rishi, he realized there was something more—he sought pure devotion (bhakti). His sincere desire led him to participate in the pastimes of Lord Ram, ultimately uniting Ram with Sita.

Vishwamitra’s story teaches us that, no matter what our initial motivations are, if we persevere on the path of devotion and purify our hearts, we can achieve the supreme perfection in life. Like Vishwamitra, we too can serve the Lord in whatever way we are capable, and in doing so, we achieve the ultimate success in our spiritual journey.

Similarly, the ultimate purpose of our spiritual journey is to unite all the resources we have with the source of everything. This is something we can all draw inspiration from in Vishwamitra’s journey. Whatever distractions come our way, we must stay alert to avoid being diverted. But even if we do get distracted, we must recover and resume our journey until we attain perfection.

Thank you very much. Hare Krishna.

Any questions or comments? Hare Krishna.

Question
So, thank you again for a fascinating class. Very inspiring. The question is a two-part question, if that’s okay.

Answer
Yes, please.

First Question
How do we understand the Trishanku pastime, where he tried to go with the same body to the heavenly kingdom, compared to the pastimes we read from the Srimad Bhagavatam, where kings like Muchukunda, Kathwanga, and even the grandson of Vishwamitra go and fight for the demigods in the heavenly planets? Do they get different bodies and then come back?

Answer
The whole point is that there is a cosmic hierarchy, and within that hierarchy, there are certain authorized ways for one person to go from one level to another. For example, if we think of levels of access in a computer system, one way for a data entry operator to get access to confidential files is by growing in position to become a manager. Another way is if the manager specifically allows that data operator to access the files, which is a special privilege.

Similarly, Arjuna could go to heaven, not only visiting but even sitting on Indra’s throne because Indra treated him like a son. Arjuna himself credited his access to heaven to Krishna’s grace, saying that without Krishna’s help, he wouldn’t have attained that position. So, the demigods can grant special permission for someone to go to heaven temporarily and even provide them with power. But it’s not by one’s own force that they can get there.

Second Question
Indra seems to make mistakes again and again. In various pastimes, such as the Govardhan Leela, he seems impulsive and childish. Why does this happen?

Answer
Indra is indeed a very respectable personality, especially in the Rig Veda and other Vedic literature, where he is considered the embodiment of success through the Karmakanda (ritualistic) path. He is a great position, but in the path of bhakti, the literature primarily emphasizes bhakti itself. To glorify bhakti, it often contrasts it with the successes of the path of karma, showing that even the greatest karma yogis, like Indra, can still make blunders.

Indra’s mistakes are not to diminish his greatness but to show that even the greatest karmis can falter in the presence of illusion. The Bhagavatam highlights bhakti as superior because it emphasizes humility, devotion, and surrender to Krishna. Indra’s blunders are meant to show that even the most powerful beings are subject to the influence of maya (illusion) and that bhakti, which is free from such pitfalls, is superior.

Additional Question
Sometimes, the big personalities like demigods are placed in certain situations by providence, which might seem unfavorable from a normal bhakti perspective, but the situation is created for a specific lesson. For example, in the Mohini Murti pastime, Lord Shiva was captivated by Mohini Murti, and from our point of view, that might seem like a fall. However, the purpose was to teach the sages a lesson. Could you elaborate?

Answer
Yes, that’s an excellent point. In the Mohini Murti pastime, when Lord Shiva chased after Mohini Murti, he passed through the hermitages of various sages. The sages observed this and were taught a lesson. While Lord Shiva is considered to be beyond illusion, he was temporarily captivated by Mohini Murti, which served as a lesson for the sages.

What is important to note is that despite this “fall,” Shiva’s consciousness remained focused on the Lord. After being momentarily captivated, he doesn’t feel humiliated or embarrassed; instead, he feels honored that only Vishnu could have captivated him in this way. Shiva’s focus immediately shifts to glorifying Vishnu, demonstrating his devotion and humility. This lesson shows that even if we fall temporarily, we should rise again with humility and gratitude, focusing on Krishna.

The key takeaway here is that Krishna consciousness includes both success and failure. If we fail, it should not make us lose hope or cause us to leave the path; rather, it should make us more humble and prayerful, calling out to Krishna even more. To fail in Krishna consciousness is okay as long as we don’t fail out of it. Failure should not deter us; it should only deepen our devotion.

Shiva’s fall illustrates how even the greatest beings can be subject to illusion, but their ability to recover and glorify the Lord afterward demonstrates the ultimate success in Krishna consciousness.

But Shiva is also so great that even after falling, he is not conscious of his own fall or humiliation. He is conscious of the glory of Vishnu, who made him fall. He falls in Krishna consciousness, not out of Krishna consciousness.

Thank you.

Yes, Paramahamsa.

So, regarding the pastime of Trishanku Swadhaka, how does it fit in the normal cosmic arrangement? It’s not like Vishnu sustains it forever. Does that mean it’s a part of our universe? After death, what is the desired realm where human beings go and what happens to their bodies?

Okay. Is Trishanku a particular level of existence that all souls or humans go through?

Not necessarily. Certain exceptional situations might be created for particular purposes, but that doesn’t mean it becomes a standard for everyone. The way to describe Trishanku’s state is not as a very comfortable one. He is in a state of suspended animation, and how long he remains there depends on his karma. Eventually, he will be elevated. It’s an emergency arrangement created because Vishwamitra prayed to Vishnu to sustain it for Trishanku, but it is not for everyone.

Thank you.

Another question?

Okay, any other questions or comments?

Yes, please.

Question:
My question is, are these understandings that you’re presenting here all substantiated by the commentaries of the acharyas, or are they modern-day understandings? For instance, I like the fact that you give practical examples, such as from cricket. But sometimes, other commentators tend to give more allegorical interpretations. This can sometimes diminish how the original teachings might be understood. So, I’m trying to understand this and playing the devil’s advocate a bit.

Answer:
There are quite a few questions there, but let me try to clarify.

Madhvacharya, in his Brahmasutra Bhashya, states that the Itihasas (like the Ramayana and Mahabharata) can be understood on three levels: literal, ethical, and metaphorical.

Literal means this is what actually happened. Just by hearing it and reciting it, one can purify themselves. For example, reciting the Ramayana is purifying, even if one just repeats the words without fully understanding them.

Now, the word “literal” might be equated with “historical” in modern terms. However, we should understand that the concept of history has evolved. In ancient times, history was not necessarily about precise recapitulation of events. Rather, it was more about imparting wisdom or moral lessons. In the past, whether it’s the Ramayana or even Homer’s Odyssey, the purpose of history was not merely to give a factual account but to teach something worthwhile, to inspire and to edify.

Take, for instance, a historian like Will Durant, who famously said that “what we learn from history is that we don’t learn from history.” The focus of history in modern times is on facts. But in ancient traditions, including Vedic literature, the focus was often on learning moral lessons, wisdom, and insights from the past.

So, are the scriptures historical? Yes, absolutely. But we must recognize that they are not history in the same sense that we understand it today. While modern history is focused on recapitulating facts, ancient history was about learning lessons. Even if the stories aren’t exact replicas of every event, their core teachings and spiritual truths are what matter most.

Regarding allegorical interpretations, yes, there is room for figurative speech in scriptures. For example, in the Bhagavad Gita (2.69), it states, “That which is night for all living beings is day for the self-realized, and that which is day for all living beings is night for the self-realized.” Now, if we take this literally, it would imply that self-realized people are only found in India and materialistic people in North America. Clearly, this is not meant literally. Day and night here are metaphors for knowledge and ignorance, or the areas in which a person is active.

So, while the scriptures are historical, they are also poetic. There is artistic license, and the intent is not always to provide a literal, factual account of events but to impart wisdom and spiritual teachings. As Chaitanya Mahaprabhu mentions in Chaitanya Charitamrita, the great poets glorify Krishna using figures of speech like hyperbole.

This doesn’t mean that everything in scripture is allegorical, but it does mean that scripture uses artistic methods to teach profound spiritual truths. The scriptures aren’t just about giving a dry historical account—they are intended to teach us deeper spiritual lessons.

So, in summary, while the scriptures are historical, they also contain metaphors, allegories, and artistic elements that help us understand spiritual concepts more deeply. This is the key difference between how history was understood in ancient times and how it is understood today.

And poetry includes hyperbole, but that is for a poetic purpose. So, that’s the first point. When we say that it’s historical, it’s not history in the modern sense. Getting caught up in pedantic debates—whether it’s like that or not—is not the focus.

In the first canto of the Shrimad Bhagavatam, it says that Krishna returned from Hastinapur to Dwarka. The Bhagavatam describes the path he took, passing through various kingdoms. Some historians might try to retrace the path of Krishna. However, the earth’s surface is constantly changing due to geology, so retracing the path can be quite a difficult task. As far as we are concerned, we are simply satisfied that Krishna reached Dwarka and is going to perform pastimes with the devotees there.

Prabhupada’s focus is not to deny the importance or validity of research into Krishna’s historicity, but to keep things in perspective. That research is secondary. The primary focus in studying the Ramayana and Mahabharata is to learn the devotional and ethical values that help us remember the Lord.

So, I am presenting it from a literal or historical perspective, if you want to use the term “historical,” but it is not historical in the modern sense. There are ethical lessons, and the primary purpose of history in the past was to teach us what to do and what not to do. And beyond that, because it is poetry, some metaphorical elements may also be present.

What is of concern, especially for Srila Prabhupada, is when the metaphorical is used not to supplement the historical but to supplant it—to replace it. For example, if someone says the Kurukshetra war never took place and that Kurukshetra only represents the body, that’s a problem. It’s fine to say Kurukshetra represents the body, and you can say the Kauravas represent our unholy desires and the Pandavas represent holy desires. But when someone uses that to claim that Kurukshetra is not historical at all, that was a serious concern for Prabhupada.

Prabhupada himself has used metaphorical explanations in his works. For instance, he has spoken of how Devaki’s womb represents our heart and how the first six children were killed, symbolizing the removal of six anarthas (undesirable qualities). Balram, as the Guru, comes in to cleanse the heart, and then Krishna appears. We shouldn’t be paranoid about metaphorical explanations, but we shouldn’t turn everything into metaphor either. Some parts of scripture are definitely metaphorical, but we must be careful not to metaphorize the entire text.

As for those who say that the scriptures are just poetic myths, we don’t need to immediately engage in confrontation with them. We understand where they are coming from. Second, while poetry can include exaggerations, not everything in scripture should be seen as exaggeration. Ultimately, our goal is to help them accept the wisdom in the scripture.

For instance, if someone says, “I can’t believe demons exist,” we don’t tell them that they have to accept the existence of demons before chanting Hare Krishna. Instead, we encourage them to chant, and through purification, they will gradually come to understand deeper truths.

Prabhupada once asked a devotee in Hawaii, who was concerned about how scholars laughed at the idea that King Ugrasena had thousands of bodyguards. They wondered, “Where did they all live? Where were their houses and toilets?” Prabhupada didn’t respond by saying Krishna can do anything. Instead, he asked, “Did you find only that verse to talk about with the scholars?”

Prabhupada’s approach was always to focus on what’s most important in our limited time with others. Our goal is to give them the most essential message, not to engage in endless debates about the historicity of every detail.

Even if someone isn’t ready to accept that everything in scripture is historical, we can help them appreciate the principles and teachings. As far as the explanations I gave, they depend on what we’re discussing. Generally, Prabhupada said that realization means presenting things in a way that is interesting and relevant to the audience. For example, the concept of a mainframe computer may not be in scripture, but using it as a metaphor can help make the teaching more accessible.

Scripture is not just about being correct, but also about getting the message across. If someone gives a perfect class in Sanskrit but no one understands it, they’ve achieved nothing in communicating the message. Prabhupada’s emphasis was always on communicating the essence of the teachings in a way that is understandable to the audience.

For example, in the Bhagavad Gita (15.6), the literal translation says that the spiritual world is not illuminated by the sun, moon, or fire. But Prabhupada adds “electricity” in his purport. A literalist might question where electricity fits into the spiritual world. But the point is to convey that the spiritual world is self-effulgent, not dependent on external sources of light, as is the case in the material world. Since most people today live in a world dependent on electricity for light, Prabhupada used “electricity” to make the point clearer to modern audiences.

The point is that it’s not just about getting everything right, but about getting the message across. Prabhupada emphasized that the purpose of presenting scripture is to increase people’s interest in Krishna Bhakti. As long as contemporary examples help people understand and practice Krishna Bhakti, they serve the purpose.

Thank you very much.