Gita 02.10 – Change in the seeker’s mood evokes change in the teacher’s mood
tam uvāca hṛṣīkeśaḥ
prahasann iva bhārata
senayor ubhayor madhye
viṣīdantam idaṁ vacah (Bg 2.10)
Word-for-word:
tam — unto him; uvāca — said; hṛṣīkeśaḥ — the master of the senses, Kṛiṣhṇa; prahasan — smiling; iva — like that; bhārata — O Dhṛtarāṣṭra, descendant of Bharata; senayoḥ — of the armies; ubhayoḥ — of both parties; madhye — between; viṣīdantam — unto the lamenting one; idam — the following; vacaḥ — words.
Translation:
O descendant of Bharata, at that time Kṛṣṇa, smiling, in the midst of both the armies, spoke the following words to the grief-stricken Arjuna.
Explanation:
tam uvāca hṛṣīkeśaḥ : The word ‘tam’ refers to Arjuna, the person being addressed. ‘Hṛṣīkeśaḥ’ refers to the speaker, Kṛṣṇa. In Sanskrit, words ending with ‘m’ generally denote the object of an action, while words ending with ‘ḥ’ typically signify the subject or doer of the action. In this context, Hṛṣīkeśaḥ is the doer (subject), and ‘tam’—Arjuna—is the receiver (object) of the action. Thus, the phrase conveys that Kṛṣṇa spoke to Arjuna.
prahasann iva bhārata: ‘Bhārata’ refers to Dhṛtarāṣṭra. Sañjaya is addressing Dhṛtarāṣṭra, drawing his attention by referring to him by name. Here, the narrative camera pulls back, and the most significant detail highlighted by this shift is Kṛṣṇa’s expression—prahasann iva. This phrase means “as if smiling,” which creates a striking contrast. Smiling is not the typical reaction one would expect from someone when the person next to them is crying.
In Bhagavad-gītā 2.1, it is described: taṁ tathā kṛpayāviṣṭam aśru-pūrṇākulekṣaṇam—Arjuna’s eyes were brimming with tears. When someone’s eyes are filled with tears, we do not expect another person to smile or laugh. Typically, we empathize with another’s grief, and laughing in such a situation could seem not only insensitive but also as if trivializing their suffering. Imagine a scenario where someone has died, everyone is mourning, and someone begins laughing—it would not only be inappropriate but deeply offensive.
In this case, while no one has died, the horrifying prospect of death looms over the battlefield. Arjuna, overwhelmed, is in tears. Kṛṣṇa, his dear friend, appears to smile, leading us to question—What kind of friend is Kṛṣṇa if, while Arjuna cries, he seems to smile?
The word ‘iva’ in prahasann iva bhārata denotes “as if” or “like,” implying that it was as though Kṛṣṇa was smiling.
senayor ubhayor madhye: The contrast mentioned earlier was something visible to all, as Kṛṣṇa and Arjuna were positioned in the middle of the two armies.
This phrase appears twice in the first chapter of the Bhagavad-gītā. The first occurrence is in BG 1.21, when Arjuna requests, senayor ubhayor madhye rathaṁ sthāpaya me ’cyuta—“Place my chariot between the two armies, O Acyuta.” The second instance is in BG 1.24, where it is stated, senayor ubhayor madhye sthāpayitvā rathottamam—“Having placed the excellent chariot in the midst of the armies.” Finally, the phrase appears again in this verse.
What is the significance of this phrase being repeated three times? The first occurrence is a simple call for action, akin to a routine request—“Take me to the railway station” or “Take me to a particular location.” At first glance, it may appear to be a straightforward instruction regarding geographical placement. However, its repetition emphasizes that this positioning in the midst of the armies holds deeper significance.
This entire display of Arjuna’s overwhelming grief and lamentation occurred in public view. While there are professional mourners, like Rudalis, who cry publicly as part of their profession and get paid for it, grief is typically a very private emotion. Most people prefer not to cry in front of others, and even though some may seek attention by displaying their emotions openly, such cases are exceptions. For kṣatriyas especially, shedding tears is exceedingly rare.
Arjuna became overwhelmed, spoke, and cried openly in the middle of the battlefield—a setting highly unusual for such an emotional outburst. The battlefield is hardly a typical venue for an introspective discussion. Yet, this unlikeliness of the setting is significant. The phrase senayor ubhayor madhye—”in the midst of the two armies”—underscores the universality of the message. The knowledge imparted was given in public view, symbolizing that it was meant for everyone.
However, not everyone could hear the conversation. It was a private exchange between two individuals on a chariot, while the two armies stood facing each other, ready for battle. The major combat in Kurukṣetra was conducted primarily with arrows, where adversaries were positioned at a significant distance from one another. Unlike sword fights, fistfights, or mace duels, where opponents are in close quarters, battles involving arrows occur from a considerable distance.
Hence, while others may not have been able to hear the conversation, they could perceive that something significant was unfolding. They saw Arjuna on the verge of tears, setting aside his bow, sitting down, folding his hands, and surrendering to Kṛṣṇa. It was clear that Arjuna, overwhelmed by his emotions, had turned to Kṛṣṇa for guidance, and now Kṛṣṇa had begun to speak.
What the rest of the army did during this time is not clearly mentioned by the ācāryas. Some people suggest that Kṛṣṇa expanded time to allow the conversation to take place. While this is certainly within Kṛṣṇa’s power, we do not need to invoke His superhuman abilities unless explicitly stated by the ācāryas.
Others explain that Bhīṣma raised his hand to signal a pause, and as long as Bhīṣma was the commander, both armies generally adhered to the principles of dharma, fighting virtuously. When Bhīṣma raised his hand, the warriors on his side halted. The Pāṇḍava warriors also stopped, as their foremost leaders were in the midst of the battlefield, not yet engaged in combat.
This pause allowed the recitation of the Bhagavad-gītā to take place. If recited fluently by someone well-versed in Sanskrit, the entire text can be delivered in less than an hour.
For us, reciting the Bhagavad-gītā takes three to four hours, depending on the speed of recitation. This suggests that the army remained paused for that duration, allowing the discussion to conclude.
Positioned in the middle of the armies, Arjuna was lamenting (viṣīdantam), which further emphasizes the stark contrast with prahasann iva—Kṛṣṇa’s demeanor as if smiling.
When one friend is lamenting, and the other is smiling, it naturally raises the question—what is happening? The ācāryas describe this as a dramatic shift in Kṛṣṇa and Arjuna’s relationship. A friend had suddenly taken the position of a disciple.
Viśvanātha Cakravartī Ṭhākura, in his deeply realized emotional vision, imagines an exchange between Kṛṣṇa and Arjuna. Kṛṣṇa asks, “Arjuna, why are you surrendering to me? You could approach Vyāsadeva or any of the great sages for guidance.” Arjuna replies, “No, I want to hear from you alone. You alone are competent to instruct me.”
This unexpected reversal, with a close friend suddenly becoming a disciple, is both surprising and amusing to Kṛṣṇa. It highlights how life can bring about sudden and drastic changes in relationships and roles.
But is Kṛṣṇa insensitive for smiling? Does He not care about Arjuna’s suffering? No, Kṛṣṇa is deeply concerned. It’s not that a doctor will smile when a patient is in pain. The term prahasann iva—”as if smiling”—indicates that Kṛṣṇa’s smile is not in response to Arjuna’s distress.
To illustrate, when a patient is sick, the doctor is concerned and wants the patient to be cured. However, as long as the patient clings to their own ideas about the illness and its cure, the doctor cannot help effectively. When the patient submits and opens himself to the doctor’s expertise, then healing can begin, and the doctor might smile—not at the patient’s suffering, but at the opening of the door to healing.
Similarly, Kṛṣṇa is not smiling because Arjuna is suffering, nor is He insensitive to his grief. Rather, Kṛṣṇa smiles because Arjuna is now ready to receive the wisdom that will alleviate his suffering. Kṛṣṇa’s smile marks the moment when He can offer Arjuna the timeless wisdom of the Gītā and provide the timely counsel needed to relieve his distress.
Kṛṣṇa felt like smiling at the dramatic change in Arjuna’s situation, but He restrained Himself because smiling in this moment would have been inappropriate. If a disciple goes to a guru with a problem and the guru laughs it off, the disciple’s heart would sink. For the disciple, the problem is very serious, and the guru must respond with the appropriate gravity, not frivolity.
Similarly, Kṛṣṇa, understanding the gravity of the moment, will assume a serious posture and mood and begin to speak profound philosophy that will relieve Arjuna’s grief completely and reinstate his determination.
This dramatic shift in the relationship, where a friend becomes a surrendered disciple, brings a smile to Kṛṣṇa’s face, but He holds it back, as His focus is now on freeing Arjuna—a dear devotee, a close friend, now a surrendered soul—from illusion. How He does this will unfold in the narrative of the Bhagavad-gītā, which we will discuss in future sessions.
Thank you.
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