Gita 01.22 – A last sight of the battling brethren

 

Audio link 2: https://www.thespiritualscientist.com/gita-01-22-a-last-sight-of-the-battling-brethren/

 

kair mayā saha yoddhavyam

asmin raṇa-samudyame

 

Word for word:

kaiḥ — with whom; mayā — by me; saha — together; yoddhavyam — have to fight; asmin — in this; raṇa — strife; samudyame — in the attempt.

 

Translation:

Arjuna said: O infallible one, please draw my chariot between the two armies so that I may see those present here, who desire to fight, and with whom I must contend in this great trial of arms.

 

Explanation:

In this verse, Arjuna is speaking to Kṛṣṇa, requesting Him to take his chariot between the two armies.

 

Sometimes, the Gītā verses are not symmetrical in their length, as the verse structure depends on how the thought content is divided. If we examine some of the later verses, we will notice that some have more lines. For example, Bg 1.26 has six lines in English but only three lines in Sanskrit. Typically, a verse has two lines in Sanskrit and four lines in English, because a single verse usually expresses one thought and is grouped accordingly.

 

The overall length of the Gītā remains consistent, but sometimes verses are divided according to the thoughts they convey, leading to variations in line counts. For instance, because verse 1.26 expresses a single, cohesive thought, it is presented as one verse, though it has six lines instead of the standard four.

 

In contrast, verse 1.22 conveys a distinct thought, and although it has only two lines, it stands as a separate verse. This distribution maintains a balance across the text—where one verse may have fewer lines, another may have more, ensuring that the overall structure remains balanced.

 

Here, in this verse, Arjuna is asking Kṛṣṇa:

kair mayā saha yoddhavyam—In this war, with whom am I fighting?

asmin raṇa-samudyame—I would like to know that.

 

Arjuna’s question here reflects his concern. As we proceed further, Arjuna’s qualities will become evident. On one hand, he has a ruthless streak—not due to cruelty, but because it is the duty of a warrior to fight against enemies. However, alongside this ruthlessness, Arjuna possesses a compassionate core that makes him reluctant to engage in violence.

 

People sometimes question how a book that calls upon a person to fight in a ghastly war can be considered sacred. However, there are times when the unrighteous, malicious, and vicious people rise to power. If such individuals are allowed to remain in control, they will bring ruin to society and the world at large. Allowing them to stay in power is an act of cruelty toward the citizens and the state. To counter such cruelty, a warrior may sometimes need to fight and kill, but these are exceptional situations. In general, warriors strive to resolve conflicts peacefully.

 

In the case of the Pāṇḍavas, they did their utmost to avoid conflict, despite being the afflicted, aggrieved, deprived, and exploited party. They had every reason to be furious about the injustices inflicted upon them. Nevertheless, the Pāṇḍavas gravely maintained their tolerance and desire for peace. They worked diligently to ensure that no unnecessary violence occurred, which is why they made multiple efforts to seek a peaceful resolution.

 

Despite being dishonored and cheated—losing their kingdom and seeing their wife dishonored—they refrained from fighting. Instead, they agreed to go into exile, even enduring the humiliating one-year agyātavāsa (incognito exile), during which they had to conceal their identities and live as servants.

 

Even after enduring all this, when the Kauravas refused to return their kingdom, the Pāṇḍavas still sought peace. They first sent a brāhmaṇa, Drupada’s chief priest, as a messenger to offer sound advice to the Kauravas and pursue a peaceful resolution, albeit without success.

 

Sañjaya’s efforts to mediate were also unsuccessful. Acting on behalf of Dhṛtarāṣṭra, he tried to weasel out an agreement that would have perpetuated the exploitation of the Pāṇḍavas. Essentially, he told them to be satisfied without their kingdom. This was not only an unreasonable request but an outrageous one.

 

It’s like being in the final of the World Cup and having one team’s representative approach the other, saying, “We don’t want any animosity in this match, so just accept defeat before it begins.” While it’s true that no one wants animosity, the solution is not passive surrender but maintaining cordial relations while still competing fairly.

 

Thus, it was a ridiculous and outrageous request. Yet, the Pāṇḍavas responded with great patience and courtesy. Afterward, Kṛṣṇa himself went to petition for peace. The Pāṇḍavas were so conciliatory that they even said, “If you don’t wish to return our kingdom, at least give us five villages, and we will rule over them.” They were willing to be satisfied with just those five villages.

 

However, Duryodhana was so adamant that he refused to grant even as much land as could be pierced by the tip of a needle. He insolently rejected Kṛṣṇa’s peace proposal. Not only did he summarily rebuff Kṛṣṇa’s kind overtures, but he went so far as to attempt to arrest Kṛṣṇa. At that point, it became clear that Duryodhana had no intention of seeking peace in any form and the war became inevitable.

 

The Pāṇḍavas would have much rather preferred to avoid such terrible warfare, which would cause unnecessary bloodshed, especially among family members. They did everything they could to prevent it, but the Kauravas were unwilling to listen.

 

Now, Arjuna is confronting the inevitability of this fratricidal war. He wants to see who the warriors are—those with whom he must fight. It’s not that Arjuna is unaware of who his opponents will be, but rather, he seeks to create a final memory before the war begins. In a way, it is similar to when someone knows a relative is about to pass away, and they want to see that person one last time—not because they haven’t seen them before, but to hold on to a lasting memory. For Arjuna, this is a grim, even painful, last memory, but a memory nonetheless.

 

Arjuna knows that a formidable war is imminent, and by the time it ends, one of the two sides—either the Kauravas or the Pāṇḍavas—will not return alive. This is an emotionally wrenching conflict for him. First, because the war constantly reminds the Pāṇḍavas of the great insults and injustices they, and their wife, had endured. And second, because now they must fight against their own loved ones.

 

While there was no love lost between the Pāṇḍavas and the Kauravas, the Pāṇḍavas were still cognizant that these were family members. Yudhiṣṭhira, in particular, kept this in mind, and the other Pāṇḍavas, to some extent, did as well. Arjuna, being conscientious, also reflected on this. However, it wasn’t just the Kauravas he was concerned about; there were also venerable elders like Bhīṣma, Droṇācārya, and Kṛpācārya—figures he deeply respected. Arjuna, in this moment, wanted to see who exactly he was about to face in battle.

 

The Pāṇḍavas had vigorously prepared for the war, knowing it was inevitable. Yet, with equal determination, they also made efforts, especially in the last few months before the conflict, to prevent it. This is described in the Udyoga Parva, which precedes the Bhīṣma Parva, where the Bhagavad-gītā is spoken. In the Udyoga Parva, both aspects are described—how the Pāṇḍavas sought alliances in preparation for the war, and how they pursued negotiations in an attempt to avoid it.

 

It is often said to hope for the best while preparing for the worst. The Pāṇḍavas embodied this saying as they formed alliances to prepare for the worst in case war erupted, all while hoping for the best by engaging in negotiations repeatedly to avoid conflict.

 

However, all negotiations had failed, and the hope for a peaceful reconciliation was now irreversibly lost. War had become inevitable. Recognizing the gravity of the impending fratricide, Arjuna wanted to take one last look at the warriors he was about to face.

 

From his position, he could see the Kaurava warriors, albeit not clearly. By moving to the center of the battlefield, he would be able to see both the Pāṇḍavas and the Kauravas. This emotionally wrenching reality of fighting against relatives would become starkly apparent when he saw both sides, and that was something he felt compelled to witness.