Gita 02.35 – The variance between our intention and people’s perception causes mortifying misconception
bhayād raṇād uparataṁ
maṁsyante tvāṁ mahā-rathāḥ
yeṣāṁ ca tvaṁ bahu-mato
bhūtvā yāsyasi lāghavam (Bg. 2.35)
Word-for-word:
bhayāt — out of fear; raṇāt — from the battlefield; uparatam — ceased; maṁsyante — they will consider; tvām — you; mahā-rathāḥ — the great generals; yeṣām — for whom; ca — also; tvam — you; bahu-mataḥ — in great estimation; bhūtvā — having been; yāsyasi — you will go; lāghavam — decreased in value.
Translation:
The great generals who have highly esteemed your name and fame will think that you have left the battlefield out of fear only, and thus they will consider you insignificant.
Explanation:
In this verse, Kṛṣṇa explains to Arjuna why he should not give up the fight and warns him about the dishonor he will face.
Arjuna may argue that he will not be dishonored because he is renouncing the fight out of compassion. His action, he believes, is noble—he is considering his elders, such as his guru and grandsire, as his venerable superiors. Out of respect for them, and out of a noble willingness to relinquish his kingdom despite having both the right and the competence to claim it, he chooses to step back. Therefore, he may reason that his action will be seen as honorable.
However, Kṛṣṇa points out to Arjuna the sobering reality that public perception often differs from private intention. Arjuna’s personal intention may be noble, but public perception will not align with it. The public will see his withdrawal as an act of fear:
bhayād raṇād uparataṁ: Having withdrawn from battle out of fear.
The word ‘uparataṁ’ means ‘to stop’. When Kṛṣṇa speaks about samādhi in Chapter 6, verses 20 to 23, he says: yatroparamate cittaṁ—the mind completely ceases activity. Similarly, in this war, if Arjuna stops fighting,
maṁsyante tvāṁ mahā-rathāḥ: the great warriors will think he fled the battle out of fear.
yeṣāṁ ca tvaṁ bahu-mato: those who once held him in high regard
bhūtvā yāsyasi lāghavam: will consider him insignificant.
There is laghimā-siddhi, which means the ability to become lighter than the lightest. Hence, lāghavam means to be considered light, frivolous, childish, infantile, or cowardly.
If someone gets a case of nerves and flees, that is bad enough. But if someone actually becomes cowardly and retreats while trying to rationalize their cowardice, it is even worse.
Here, it is important for us to recognize the difference between our intentions and how others perceive them. We cannot simply say that we do not care about others’ perceptions, because we live in an interdependent world. Even if we are practicing spiritual life and have spiritual goals, we still exist in the material world. While living in this world, we must interact with society, and we cannot maintain a constantly adversarial relationship with others.
An adversarial relationship means seeing others as enemies while they, in turn, see us as theirs. However, the whole concept of ‘we’ versus ‘they’ is based on a misconception. It is not ‘we’ and ‘they’—rather, all of us are ‘we.’ Even ‘they’ are ‘we.’ They, too, are parts of Kṛṣṇa—they are also His beloved children. Unless we cultivate this vision, we cannot truly be compassionate. If we are overly judgmental, our hearts will have no room for compassion.
People form perceptions based on actions, as they usually cannot see our intentions. Therefore, it is important to clarify our intentions. Whenever possible, if we must take actions that are likely to be misunderstood, we should explain what we are doing. Furthermore, if certain actions are highly likely to be misinterpreted, we may need to avoid them—even if our intentions are not wrong.
This means there are three aspects to consider—the intention in our heart, the action we perform in the world, and the perception that people form in their minds.
Our intentions drive our actions, but it is our actions that shape people’s perceptions, conceptions, and opinions. Others do not know what is in our hearts—they cannot see our inner motivations. They can only observe our actions and, based on those, interpret our intentions through their own experiences and frame of reference. Sometimes, this can lead them to ascribe incorrect motives to our actions.
For example, if a young boy decides to become a brahmacārī, people often wonder why he would leave behind a promising career. They may assume, “Oh, he must have faced disappointment in a romantic relationship, or perhaps his parents didn’t love him, or maybe he was a failure in his career and, unable to succeed, chose to become a monk instead.”
Essentially, people observe an action and interpret it within their own frame of reference. To them, spiritual life may seem like an escape—a negative refuge rather than a positive achievement. They see progress only in terms of material success, particularly career advancement. However, the devotee may actually be inspired by a deep desire to selflessly, vigorously, and wholeheartedly share Kṛṣṇa’s message. That may be his true motivation for dedicating his life to Kṛṣṇa—but that is not how the world perceives it.
Therefore, sooner or later, some form of communication is necessary. In ISKCON’s history, as devotees began joining temples, shaving their heads, and dancing on the streets, their actions seemed so radical to mainstream American society that people struggled to understand what was driving them. Around the same time, there were pseudo-spiritual teachers who were actually brainwashing people.
One such figure was Jim Jones, who led a group into a cloistered community and eventually convinced over a thousand of his followers to commit mass suicide. He told them that if they had faith in him, they should take their own lives, promising they would be delivered. Tragically, they obeyed. This horrifying event triggered a widespread ‘cult scare’, making society even more suspicious of new religious movements.
Many times, the public began ascribing devotees of being brainwashed, assuming that was the reason behind their actions. People feared that devotees might also end up doing something extreme, like those in dangerous cults. As a result, some took it upon themselves to “save” devotees by attempting to ‘deprogram’ them.
Often, the parents and relatives of devotees believed they were doing something valuable by arranging for deprogramming, thinking they were helping their loved ones. At one level, devotees had to fight legal battles to defend their right to practice bhakti. One approach could have been to simply demonize the deprogrammers and those opposing them. However, it was important to recognize that their perception was shaped by their experiences and frame of reference.
From their perspective, what the devotees were doing was not only incomprehensible but also seemed dangerous. To address this, devotees collaborated with respected scholars, who wrote books explaining that Kṛṣṇa consciousness is an ancient and respectable tradition with roots dating back thousands of years in India. Devotees then distributed these books, helping to educate the public and dispel misconceptions. Through these efforts, they were able to overcome the cult scare.
That was a large-scale issue that took place several decades ago. However, in our personal lives—when interacting with relatives, colleagues, or others—we may face similar challenges when following devotional principles. If our actions are likely to create misunderstandings, we need to address them appropriately.
We can do this in two ways—either by avoiding actions that might lead to unnecessary misconceptions or by providing clarification so that people understand what we are doing. Even if they do not agree with our choices, at the very least, our actions should be intelligible to them.
There is a difference between ‘acceptability’ and ‘intelligibility’. Acceptability means that others are okay with and accept what we are doing. Intelligibility, on the other hand, means that while they may not agree, they at least understand where we are coming from.
We need to consider public opinion for many reasons. Otherwise, we may face unnecessary hostility in our own practice of bhakti and unnecessary obstacles in our outreach to share bhakti with others.
Recognizing this, we should establish proper channels of communication and acknowledge that people’s perceptions shape their reality. If their perceptions are mistaken, it becomes our responsibility to correct them.
Here, Kṛṣṇa warns Arjuna that people will perceive him as a coward, and even those who once honored him will begin to dishonor him. Given the vast army of millions assembled on the battlefield and the widespread nature of Arjuna’s fame, he will not have the opportunity to explain himself to everyone.
Therefore, Kṛṣṇa implores Arjuna not to act in a way that would give people reason to believe he had withdrawn out of fear.
Thank you.
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