गाण्डीवं स्रंसते हस्तात्त्वक्चै व परिदह्यते |
न च शक्नोम्यवस्थातुं भ्रमतीव च मे मन: || 30||
gāṇḍīvaṁ sraṁsate hastāt tvak chaiva paridahyate
na cha śhaknomy avasthātuṁ bhramatīva cha me manaḥ
gāṇḍīvam—Arjun’s bow; sraṁsate—is slipping; hastāt—from (my) hand; tvak—skin; cha—and; eva—indeed; paridahyate—is burning all over; na—not; cha—and; śhaknomi—am able; avasthātum—remain steady; bhramati iva—whirling like; cha—and; me—my; manaḥ—mind;
Translation:
The bow Gāndiva slips from my hand and my skin is on fire. I cannot hold myself steady; my mind seems to whirl. O Keśava, I see omens of evil.
Arjuna’s limbs have become weak, and his mind has left him. His bow has fallen from his hand, and he seems so frail that he wonders if he even has the strength to sit on his chariot. At this moment, it is important to understand a few key points.
First, the body is a mere reflection of the mind. Whatever happens deep within the mind is reflected in every part of the body. Arjuna, who was so strong, has suddenly become so weak that even sitting on the chariot seems difficult. This transformation did not occur a moment ago. He did not become ill, his body did not weaken, nor did he age in an instant. So, what happened in this moment?
Only one event took place: his mind became weak; it became feeble and divided into self-contradictory parts. When the mind is divided, the body immediately becomes sick and miserable. Conversely, when the mind is united in harmony, the body becomes healthy and whole. The falling of his bow, the trembling of his limbs, and the standing of his hair on end are all indicators that the body is nothing more than a shadow of the mind.
Previously, the prevailing belief was different. Scientists claimed that the mind was merely a shadow of the body. Philosophers like Brihaspati, Epicurus, Karl Marx, and Engels all shared this view, asserting that consciousness is merely a by-product of the body. They believed that the mind was nothing more than a reflection of the body, like a mirror.
Two American psychologists, James and Lange, proposed a theory that was accepted for years, known as the James-Lange Theory. They argued that we have always believed that a man runs away because he is afraid. However, they claimed this is incorrect. If the body is primary and the mind is a mere by-product, then the truth must be the opposite: a man feels fear because he runs away.
We have always thought that when a person is angry, their fists clench, their teeth grit, blood rushes to their eyes, and their breathing quickens in preparation for an attack. But James and Lange argued the opposite: because a man clenches his fists, grits his teeth, and experiences a quickening of blood flow and breathing, anger arises.
They attempted to prove this through logic, illustrating how logic can sometimes lead to erroneous conclusions. They suggested that if anger cannot occur without these physical symptoms, then anger must be nothing more than a combination of these symptoms. But they overlooked the fact that the opposite can also be true. An actor, for example, can display all the physical signs of anger without feeling any anger inside. Similarly, an actor can express love convincingly, but there may be no love in his heart.
Arjuna’s experience contradicts the James-Lange theory. James and Lange would argue that because Arjuna’s bow is falling, his hair is standing on end, and his body is weakening, he must be feeling anxious. However, Arjuna’s anxiety arose first, and there is no external reason for his body’s symptoms. Nothing has changed in the outside world, yet everything has changed within him.
In Tibet, students at Lhasa University were required to practice a form of yoga known as heat-yoga. This practice involved generating heat within the body through the power of the mind. It was said that students could stand naked in the snow and sweat, simply by focusing their minds. Western doctors who observed this were stunned, as it defied the James-Lange theory. While the doctors shivered in their cloaks, the students stood naked in the snow, generating enough heat to dry wet clothes on their bodies.
What happened to Arjuna was the result of the turmoil in his mind manifesting in his body. In our lives, most disturbances originate in the mind and affect the body, yet we often focus solely on the body. If Krishna had possessed what we call “scientific intelligence,” he might have diagnosed Arjuna with the flu or a hormone deficiency and sent him to a hospital. But instead, Krishna focused on addressing Arjuna’s mind, understanding that true change must come from within.
There are two processes in the world: changing the body or changing consciousness. Science focuses on the body, while religion focuses on consciousness. This is why religion is a deeper, more profound science. It begins at the center, recognizing that damage to the roots will inevitably affect the leaves, while damage to the leaves may not reach the roots.
Krishna, seeing Arjuna’s condition, chose to address his consciousness rather than his body. Had he focused on the body, the Gita would have been a book of physiology or physics. Instead, the Gita became a work of psychology, a study of the mind. Krishna did not check Arjuna’s pulse or use a thermometer; he focused on what was happening in Arjuna’s consciousness.
Even today, humanity is affected by the same consciousness that troubled Arjuna. But our treatments often start with the body, leaving the underlying issues unresolved. Arjuna himself admits that his mind is leaving him and that he has become impotent and powerless. The strength of the body remains unchanged, but the strength that comes from determination has vanished.
Determination is born from a focused mind, but when the mind is conflicted, determination is lost. Arjuna’s dilemma is the same dilemma faced by many people. The Gita’s value lies in its focus on psychology rather than theology. It addresses the mind’s conflicts and seeks to make it whole and integrated.
If I could, I would call Krishna the father of psychology. He was the first to attempt to heal a troubled mind, to synthesize its fragmented parts, and to make it whole. Krishna is not merely a psychoanalyst like Freud; he is also a synthesizer, seeking to unify the mind and bring it to a state of wholeness.
Arjuna’s state of mind is one we all experience, though perhaps not as intensely. Our crises are often lukewarm, allowing us to endure them. But when a crisis is dramatic, as it was for Arjuna, it forces us to confront our weaknesses and seek wholeness.
I once heard of an experiment where a psychologist placed a frog in a bucket of boiling water, and the frog immediately jumped out, recognizing the danger. But when the frog was placed in a bucket of cold water that was slowly heated over 24 hours, it adjusted to the gradual increase in temperature and eventually boiled to death without ever jumping out.
Arjuna’s situation is like the frog in boiling water. The crisis is so intense that he cannot simply adjust; he must take action. Most people, when faced with such a crisis, choose to run away, to escape. Arjuna, too, was tempted to run away, to retreat to the forest and renounce the world. But Krishna told him to stay and face the truth of life.
Running away from life does not lead to God. Those who run from life’s challenges cannot realize the divine. Life is a preparation for encountering the ultimate truth, and Arjuna was running away from a small aspect of life. If Krishna had allowed him to flee, Arjuna would have become a sanyasi in the forest, but he would not have found peace. He would have eventually returned to his warrior nature, hunting animals and birds.
Sanyas, true renunciation, is not about escaping the world; it is about transcending it. It is the result of complete understanding and engagement with the world. Krishna’s goal in the Gita is to restore Arjuna’s determination, strength, and self-realization.