At moments of great uncertainty, many great leaders like Swami Vivekanand, Mahatma Gandhi, and Dr Abdul Kalam always found comfort and wisdom in one of the great scriptures of Hinduism: the Bhagavad Gītā, the Song of the beloved.
In Young India, Gandhi writes: ‘When misfortune hits me full in the face and I, lonely and alone, can’t detect a glimmer of light anywhere, I resort to the Bhagavad Gītā. I read a verse here, a verse there, and immediately a smile appears on my face in the midst of the overwhelming dramas – and I can assure you that my life was full of dramas – and if they did not leave a visible and permanent scar on me, it is only because of the teaching of the Bhagavad Gītā’.
The Bhagavad Gītā is the dialogue between the Bhagavān (God) Kṛṣṇa and Prince Arjuna, in response to Arjuna’s despair about the coming battle for the kingdom. It is up to him to give the go-ahead, after which the war will break out, but he does not know what to do. Everything that is dear to him – even the enemy is made up of relatives. Finally, everyone will lose. It is therefore said that Arjuna’s choice is preceded by a completely different battle, one that takes place in the heart. Therein lies the greatness of the Bhagavad Gītā. Kṛṣṇa speaks to all of us.
I too often browse through the Gītā these days. These are indefinable times, as the coronavirus spreads throughout the world. In and around myself, I sense insecurity. The laconic attitude has disappeared. I don’t know how to relate to this threat that is all around me and invisible at the same time. It is unclear how it continues. We are being thrown back upon our own selves. Where can we find a helping hand?
In the second chapter, the Yoga of Knowledge when Arjuna has presented his doubts to Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa abruptly gives him a completely different view. He points out to him his deepest essence, the Ātmā (Self). This Ātmā permeates everything and yet it remains outside, undisturbed. It resides in the heart of every creature. ‘Weapons cannot strike it. Fire can’t make it burn. Water doesn’t make it wet. The wind doesn’t make it dry.’ (II.23) And corona can’t make it sick, I think.
What Kṛṣṇa does is that he greatly magnifies Arjuna’s perspective and removes its everydayness. ‘Both he who thinks this Ātmā is a killer, or he who thinks it will be killed, are mistaken. This Ātmā does not kill, and it is not killed.’ (II.19). I feel comfort when I read this. I see the sky, how empty it is without the airplane stripes. She seems undisturbed by everything, she will always exist. The forest also seems to carry a different kind of silence, as if it exists more in itself.
Restlessness is not a good counsellor
I notice this has a good impact on me when I’m finding the silence. It is not so that the outside world leaves me untouched, certainly not, but I feel the need to turn inside, towards a healthy inner attitude. I don’t need to be perfect and wise, but restlessness is not a good counsellor. Gandhi, that great, humble man, set an example. He knew when something surpassed him. Then he took up the Gītā and read a verse here and there. At peace with himself, he then, to the best of his knowledge, took the next step, humble, consciously vulnerable, but determined.
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