Bhishma’s Vows, Krishna’s Vision

“Why aren’t you killing the Pandavas, Pitamaha? You have always loved them and hated us, Kauravas! You’re my army commander, but where does your loyalty lie?”

Stung by Duryodhana’s accusations, Bhishma declared:

“I will kill all five Pandavas tomorrow!”

He took five arrows, marked each with the name of a Pandava, and infused them with the tapas he had accumulated through a lifetime of brahmacharya.

Duryodhana was thrilled. But what if the old man changed his mind?

“I’ll keep the five arrows tonight and give them to you tomorrow morning.”

A little later, a veiled woman entered Bhishma’s tent noiselessly and fell at his feet.

Hearing her bangles jingle, the grandsire uttered the customary blessing for a married woman:

“Deergha Sumangali Bhava!”

As the woman rose, her veil slipped, revealing Draupadi!

Bhishma was stunned. He had just blessed with a long and auspicious married life, the very woman, whose husbands he had vowed to kill tomorrow.

“Who brought you here?” he thundered, rushing outside.

One glimpse of that familiar Pitambara, and he knew.

“Very well, Krishna! If you have made me break my vow, I shall make you break yours!”

Krishna smiled.

His task was only half done.

A hooded figure entered Duryodhana’s tent, startling him.

“You! How did you get here? Why have you come?”

“I have come to claim the boon you promised me,” replied Arjuna.

Duryodhana’s face paled. The memory of that incident still rankled.

During their vanavasa, Duryodhana had camped near the Pandavas, hoping to insult them. Instead, he was the one humiliated when the Gandharvas captured him. The righteous Yudhishthira had sent Arjuna to rescue him. Grudgingly, Duryodhana had offered Arjuna a boon for saving his life.

Arjuna had declined, saying he would ask for it later.

How had Arjuna remembered that boon now?

“What do you seek?”

“I want the five arrows Bhishma has empowered with our names.”

Bound by his own word, Duryodhana had no choice but to hand over the arrows.

Disaster was averted.

As the war raged on, Bhishma inflicted enormous damage on the Pandava army. Arjuna still hesitated to strike him.

Krishna could take it no longer.

“Arjuna, it seems you are unwilling to fight your Pitamaha. I will have to do it myself!”

Leaping from the chariot, His uttariyam (upper garment) trailing behind Him, Krishna picked up the wheel of a broken chariot, and charged towards Bhishma.

Bhishma immediately laid down his bow and folded his palms.

“I welcome death at Your divine hands, O Puṇḍarīkākṣa!”

Arjuna rushed and caught hold of Krishna, pleading:

“Krishna! Remember Your vow not to lift a weapon during the Kurukshetra war! How can You break Your own word? Come back!”

Krishna smiled. He is Śāntaḥ (शान्तः), the One who is eternally tranquil.

Bhishma had vowed to make Krishna break His vow.

Such is the compassion of the Lord that He is willing to break His own vow to uphold that of His bhaktas!

The battle continued, but Arjuna could not bring Bhishma down.

On the night of the ninth day, Krishna led the Pandavas to Bhishma’s tent.

With folded hands, Yudhishthira asked:

“Pitamaha, tell us how to defeat you.”

“I have a longstanding vow. I will not fight anyone who was born a woman or appears to be one. Let Arjuna stand behind Shikhandi and aim his arrows at me. I will not resist.”

Shikhandi was Amba in a previous birth and had taken an oath to destroy Bhishma.

And so, on the tenth day of the war, the grandsire finally fell, his body pierced by Arjuna’s arrows, decisively changing the course of the war.

Three different situations. Three different solutions. All orchestrated by One Protector of the Pandavas.

The Pandavas had to face danger. Arjuna had to fight. Difficult choices had to be made. But Krishna guided and delivered them from each crisis.

God’s protection does not always come as a miracle that makes every difficulty disappear. Sometimes, it comes as wisdom when we are confused, a timely reminder when we have forgotten, or a way forward when every path seems closed.

The question is – are we prepared to trust Him completely and surrender to Him, like the Pandavas did?

The Unbroken Yawn

https://youtu.be/l6184L76vGA

A Father, a Son, and a Test of Dharma

Kesini's swayamvara was approaching. Two suitors sought her hand: Virochana, the Daitya prince, and son of the famous devotee Prahlada, and Sudhanva, a Brahmana.



In the assembly, when Virochana invited Sudhanva to share his golden seat, Sudhanva refused.

Virochana declared himself superior and ridiculed Sudhanva, saying that a mat of grass was more fitting for him than a seat beside a prince.

The conversation soon turned into a contest of pride. Who was greater — the Daityas or the Brahmanas? Who deserved the higher place?

Sudhanva would not accept the insult. He insisted that wisdom and knowledge was far more important than the power of the sword. Words led to arguments and the two men were ready to stake their life itself on the outcome.

But who could judge such a contest fairly?

Virochana refused to approach either the gods or human beings. Sudhanva proposed an unexpected judge — Virochana's own father, Prahlada!

How could he trust the father of his rival?

Because Sudhanva believed that Prahlada would never speak an untruth, even to protect his own son.

The two approached Prahlada and explained their dispute.



Prahlada now faced a terrible test that no father would ever wish for. One contestant was his own son. The other was the man whose claim he had to judge. A false verdict might protect Virochana, but at what cost?

After some time in thought, Prahlada the judge, declared his verdict.

“Sudhanva is superior to Virochana.”

But the next moment, Prahlada the father turned to Sudhanva, to make one final appeal: “Spare my son's life.”



Sudhanva relented. “Prahlada, you have chosen virtue even at the cost of your own son. I therefore grant him his life.”

Thus, truth prevailed, and mercy followed.

In the Vidura Neeti part of the Udyoga Parva of the Mahabharata, Vidura narrates this story to King Dhritarashtra. His intention is to hold up Prahlada as a role model, and to warn the king against letting his attachment to Duryodhana to override Dharma.

What’s the lesson we can learn?

Prahlada upheld the truth even when his own son's life was at stake. This teaches us that we must not excuse wrongdoing just because it is done by a loved one. The real test of how dharmic we are comes when truth conflicts with our self-interest. If a loved one is doing wrong, will we still show the courage to stand by dharma?

Why Did Dharmaraja Gamble?

“How could Yudhishthira be called Dharmaraja when he gambled away his kingdom, his brothers and even his wife? Wasn't it adharmik of him to gamble?”

Many people ask this question. 

After the Rajasuya Yagna was completed, Vyasa Maharishi blessed Yudhishthira. But he also gave him a terrible prophecy.

“A great war will take place in the future. The entire Kuru race will perish, except for the five Pandavas. And you, Yudhishthira, will be responsible for this calamity.”

Yudhishthira was devastated.

That very moment, he took a vow.

“I won’t allow this to ever happen! From now onwards, I will never speak harshly or refuse any request or do anything at all to displease anyone, especially the Kauravas! I will be even more alert in following the Kshatriya code of conduct.”

Some time later came the invitation from Dhritarashtra to play the game of dice.

Yudhishthira accepted it - because it was against the Kshatriya code to refuse an invitation, and equally, because of his vow.

The game began.

Yudhisthira did not question the terms of the game.

He didn’t object to Shakuni throwing the dice on Duryodhana's behalf.

He didn't protest against the outrageous stakes. 

Why?

Because his whole focus was on not antagonizing the Kauravas. 

He was desperate to prevent the calamity that Vyasa had foreseen.

Yudhishthira was trying to control the future. He believed that if he acted carefully enough, he could prevent the prophecy from coming true.

He had taken doership upon himself.

His intention was to avert a catastrophe. But in trying to control what might happen tomorrow, he lost sight of what he should do today.

In trying to protect the Kuru race, he neglected the welfare of his own brothers and wife who were his responsibility!

What could he have done differently?

Instead of taking the onus on himself, maybe he could have sought counsel?

He could have turned to Krishna for guidance?

We also often behave in this way. In the sense that we try to control every outcome in our life only by our own efforts.

We compromise on what is right because we fear what might happen if we don't.

We say we are being wise, when it is actually fear that drives our decisions.

Like Yudhishthira, we become so preoccupied with preventing an unpleasant future that we fail to see the harm we are causing in the present.

The Bhagavad Gita teaches us the best way out – do what is right, recognize the limits of your own control, and surrender the outcome to the Lord.

Seven Days to Live

Sant Tukaram’s wife Avali was known to be short-tempered and critical of the way he spent all his time in devotion to Vitthal.

A young man once approached Sant Tukaram and asked him:

“Maharaj, how is it that you are always so peaceful despite your wife’s argumentative nature? You never seem to lose your temper. You treat everyone with love. What is the secret of your calm?”

Tukaram replied, “Forget that, but I know a grave secret about you.”

“What is it, Maharaj?” the young man asked.

“You have only seven days left to live.”

Stunned, the young man went away.

On the seventh day, he returned to Tukaram.

“Maharaj,” he said, “my time is almost over. I have come to seek your blessings.”

Tukaram asked, “During these seven days, did you quarrel with anyone? Did you lose your temper or hold on to anger?”

“No, Maharaj,” the young man replied. “How could I? Because I had so little time left, I tried to spend it peacefully with my loved ones.”

He explained how he had stopped shouting at his mother when the food had less salt or more spice. He had given up arguing with people over small things, trying to prove himself superior. He no longer got triggered by whatever people said to him, or how they behaved with him.

Tukaram smiled.

“Remember the question you asked me, about how I stay peaceful always? Now you know the answer. I live everyday with the awareness that death can come at any moment. Why waste the little time we have in anger, quarrels and resentment? Why not live with love and kindness instead?”

The young man understood.

Can we?

Amavasya With a Twist

“What is the best time?”

“The day after tomorrow, on the day of Amavasya. Get your royal elephant to start marching. This will guarantee that victory is yours!”

This was the shocking conversation between Duryodhana and Sahadeva just days before the Kurukshetra yuddha.

Bheema entered just as Duryodhana left. He demanded to know why their arch enemy had come to their camp.

“Duryodhana came to consult to me regarding the most auspicious moment to begin the war.”

“I hope you told him the wrong time to ensure defeat of the Kauravas.”

Sahadeva was angry. “Of course not! How can I abandon the ethics of my profession as an astrologer? I told him the exact right time that will ensure his victory!”

Now it was Bheema’s turn to fume.

“The elder brother destroyed us by playing a game of dice, and the youngest one by being a righteous astrologer!”

At that very moment, Krishna entered and was apprised of the situation.

He had just one question for Sahadeva:

“What made you tell the truth to Duryodhana?”

“The courage that You are with us, O Krishna, and that You always protect those who follow dharma!”

Krishna smiled. The ball was now in His court.

The next afternoon, Krishna went to the riverside spot where Duryodhana was sure to see Him. He began performing the tarpana – the customary oblations offered to ancestors on the day of Amavasya.

Duryodhana was perplexed.

“Why are you doing the tarpana today, Krishna? Amavasya is tomorrow!”

Krishna laughed, “Who told you that, Duryodhana? Today is Amavasya!”

Duryodhana was aghast. He ran to march the royal elephant, for that was what Sahadeva had advised.

Watching this, the deities descended from Swarga.

Chandra and Surya came forward, and asked Krishna why He was doing tarpana a day before Amavasya. He laughed and asked them a simple question.

“Define Amavasya.”

“It is when the Sun and the Moon are aligned together!”

“Well, just look at your positions right now!” quipped the Lord.

Surya and Chandra were in perfect alignment!

“Till now it wasn’t Amavasya, but now it definitely is!” laughed Krishna.

Duryodhana finished marching the royal elephant and was relieved. Victory, he thought, was now assured. But inwardly, he was fuming at the treachery of Sahadeva, who had given him the wrong day for Amavasya.

As he rushed back, he encountered the grandsire Bhishma.

“Where are you rushing in such a black mood, Duryodhana?”

“I’m going deal with Sahadeva. He told me that tomorrow in Amavasya, and marching the royal elephant would guarantee me victory! The liar! I won’t spare him!”

Bhishma was confused.

“But tomorrow IS Amavasya! Sahadeva didn’t lie!”

“I knew it, Pitamaha! You’ve always been a supporter of the Pandavas, and hated us Kauravas! You’re also lying now!”

Unperturbed, Bhishma asked Duryodhana,

“Who told you that today is Amavasya?”

“Of course today is Amavasya! Go and see for yourself! Krishna is sitting by the riverside, performing the Amavasya tarpana!”

The next question from Bhishma made Duryodhana realize his folly.

“For whom is Krishna performing tarpana?”

Duryodhana had totally missed this point. Tarpana is performed for departed parents and ancestors. Krishna’s parents Vasudeva and Devaki were both alive and well in Dwaraka!

Duryodhana was now full of rage. Rage born out of despair. He had hastily moved the royal elephant the day before the actual Amavasya. That cowherd Krishna had outwitted him. Victory had slipped away from him!

He reached the riverside. Krishna had just finished the tarpana ritual and was standing up. Sarcastically, Duryodhana asked,

“Who is that fortunate soul for whom you performed the tarpana?”

Krishna had a hard look on His face.

“It was for you, evil Duryodhana! Your destruction in the Kurukshetra war is inevitable, so I performed the tarpana in advance!”

Yet again, Krishna had saved the Pandavas who had unconditionally surrendered at His lotus feet!

What lessons can we learn from this story?

1. Sahadeva knew exactly who was asking him for advice. He also knew what the consequences could be. Yet he did not manipulate his knowledge to favour his own side. He stuck to dharma.

Dharma means doing what is right even when it may be inconvenient for us.

2. Sahadeva did what was his duty, and left the outcome to Krishna. This, in a nutshell, is karma yoga.

3. Perhaps most important of all, this story teaches us:

यतो धर्मस्ततो जयः — Yato Dharmaḥ Tato Jayaḥ– where there is dharma, there is victory

Note: This story appears in the Villi Bharatam, a Tamizh adaptation of the Mahabharata authored by Villiputhurar in the 14th century. This narration of mine is largely based on the explanation of this episode by Dr. U. Ve. Thirukudanthai N. Venkatesh in his upanyasams.

This episode explains the origin of the Bodhayana Amavasya – the New Moon day observed one day ahead of the regular Amavasya.

It Started with Some Spoilt Bananas

“These bananas are spoilt.”

“Discard them, give them to some cow.”

“Where will we find a cow now?”

And, with that last, seemingly rhetorical question, I went and placed the bananas near the Tulsi plant.

If you’re thinking that it’s strange of me to be reporting this mundane conversation, wait till you learn of the stranger event that followed.

It was a normal relaxed Sunday morning.

I had just finished purchasing vegetables from the vendor who comes by my house, and was turning to go back inside.

Just then, a man leading a Basava (bull), began passing by. Even as I had the thought that I should offer some money to him, the guy called out,

“Akka, do pooja for Basava! Offer him a banana, at least!”

I agreed, went inside, brought a banana – a fresh one – and started to offer it while also extending the money towards the man.

He stopped me, saying,

“Give Basava some rice and jaggery also, Akka!”

As I turned to go inside again to get those items, the guy declared,

“Wait, Akka, I’ll bring Basava inside your house! You can do the pooja to him there itself!”

Now, I know that a cow entering your house is one of the most auspicious events that can happen. But I wasn’t too sure about whether that held true for a bull, too. But then, the Basava was carrying a vigraha of some deity, so I guessed it was good only.

The next moment, it struck me that the vigraha was adorned with 3 horizontal lines on the forehead - a direction that was obviously not in alignment with the 3 vertical lines of the sampradaya we follow!

And because of my relatively liberal upbringing, I didn’t know if this should be a cause for concern. But then, haven’t we often welcomed people with those same 3 horizontal lines on their forehead into our home, who have come asking for donations, and never sent them away empty-handed? Then, where’s the question of doubt now when their presiding deity is at the door?

Even as all these conflicting thoughts ran through my mind, the decision was made for me. The man started walking in through the gate, following me into the house, pulling Basava behind him.

I powdered some jaggery, mixed it with some rice in a plate and offered it to him. Then both me and my husband respectfully did pradakshina of the Basava, and the next moment, there was the gurgling sound of a holy outpouring from Basava.

“Don’t worry, Akka, it’s a blessing, only!”

The guy spoke pacifyingly, perhaps because he was worried about what these city people thought of such things, little realizing that if someone knows enough to let Basava enter, they know that this outpouring was a sanctification of the home, too!

Next, we offered some money and the man started leaving, tugging at the rope to get Basava to move out.

Was it a special kind of tug that Basava recognized as meaning “Stay, don’t move”? or was Basava really waiting for something else? I don’t really know the answer but Basava kept resisting the move.

Now the man told us that he was taking Basava to a place where a temple (of that deity on Basava’s forehead) was being constructed. And followed it up by saying that perhaps Basava wanted us to contribute money to that temple.

Now someone who has been willing to offer pooja for Basava is not likely to refuse this request, right?

So, some more daana was given and now, Basava walked out peacefully.

The entire episode was surreal, and left us in a kind of daze.

Because, remember the earlier conversation I reported about offering spoiled bananas to a cow?

Was that us tuning into the universe’s plan, or was the plan orchestrated by the Lord to let us fulfil our wish?

Either way, it feels like yet another occasion where the Lord has showered His ‘nirhetuka krupa’ – unmerited, unconditional grace – on us!