My Gita Part 6

Arjuna, the wise know the body as a farm and the mind as its farmer. This body, your farm, is const.i.tuted by the five elements that make up your flesh, your notion of who you are, your intelligence, your emotions, your sense organs, your response organs and the pastures that your senses graze upon, and all that causes pain and pleasure, attraction and revulsion.-Bhagavad Gita, Chapter 13, verses 1 to 6 (paraphrased).

In the Upanishads, kshetra is seen as the third layer of deha. It is the outermost layer, known as the social layer (karana-sharira). Then comes the physical layer (sthula-sharira) and finally the mental layer (sukshma-sharira). Social body refers to property inherited at birth or earned through effort. Physical body, container of beauty, skills and talent, is the flesh, which is acquired at birth. The mental body comprises our sensations, our feelings and our ideas and, most importantly, how we imagine ourselves. The mental body is the resident-owner, dehi-kshetragna. When the mind outgrows its dependence on kshetra and deha, it discovers atma. When we die, the deha is cremated. We live behind kshetra. The dehi/kshetragna/atma move on to the next life if still dependent on deha and kshetra, else it breaks free entirely from the unending waves of rebirths and re-deaths.

Three Bodies In the Mahabharata, both Arjuna and Karna are talented archers. In fact, Karna has the distinct advantage of being born with celestial armour and earrings that cling to his body like flesh. But society respects Arjuna more than Karna, because Arjuna is seen as a prince of the Kuru clan and legal heir of Hastinapur, while Karna is seen as a charioteer's son, even after he is made a warrior and king by Duryodhana who admires his talent with the bow. For society, kshetra is more important than deha. No one cares about dehi.

So much value is given to the external that neither Arjuna nor Karna look within for ident.i.ty. Arjuna derives his ident.i.ty from his talent (archery), his inherited t.i.tle (Pandu's son) and the estate he cultivates (Indra-prastha). Karna also derives his ident.i.ty from his talent (archery), but he distances himself from his inherited t.i.tle (charioteer's son) and strives to earn new t.i.tles (Duryodhana's friend) and estates (Anga). Ident.i.ty based on what we have is aham, not atma.

The karana-sharira is an outcome of karma-past karma and present karma. What we attract naturally towards us is based on past karma. What we bring forcibly towards us is based on current karma. Arjuna's royal status is based on past karma, as is Karna's a.s.sociation with charioteers. Neither of them chose this. It was an accident of birth. Archery is their inborn talent that they inherited and honed with effort. Arjuna's a.s.sociation with Indra-prastha, and Karna's a.s.sociation with Anga, are the outcome of effort. Or are they? Were these properties supposed to come into their lives after a struggle? It is not easy to answer these questions. Karana-sharira remains mysterious. It travels with us from our previous lives into our next lives, gathering impressions of karma, keeping a record of debts that we are obliged to repay.

Two Types of Social Bodies Property and proprietors exist only in culture (sanskriti), not nature (prakriti). The divide between nature and culture, forest and field, is a consistent theme in Hinduism. In the Sama Veda, where hymns of the Rig Veda are put to melody, songs are cla.s.sified into two: songs of the forest (aranya-gana) and songs of the settlement (grama-gana). What applies to the forest does not apply to the settlement: in the forest, the rules of man are meaningless, not so in the settlement. The Pandavas realize this during their exile.

In the forest, Arjuna shoots a wild boar and discovers it has been struck by another arrow, that of a tribal, or kirata. As ent.i.tled prince, he claims the boar as his. But the kirata does not recognize him as prince, and demands that the two fight over it like two alpha males fighting over a territory or a mate: the winner takes the prize. In the forest, Arjuna realizes his social body does not matter. Only his strength and skill do.

In the final year of exile, the Pandavas have to hide, keep their ident.i.ties secret. As per the agreement with the Kauravas, if discovered in this year, they would have to go back to the forest for another twelve years. During this period, they take employment as servants in the palace of Virata, king of Matsya. They discover for the first time what it means to be a servant, when one has nothing to offer other than skills and so become the objects of constant abuse and exploitation.

The Pandavas as Princes and as Servants Without their t.i.tles or estates, the Pandavas had no value. To get back their kshetra from the Kauravas naturally became the purpose of their life. Krishna's conversation with Arjuna, however, is not to enable this. It is to teach Arjuna that while society may value him for his kshetra, while securing that kshetra for his family should be his purpose as property is vital for his family's survival, he must not derive his ident.i.ty from property. Ident.i.ty comes from within, not without: from kshetri, not kshetra, from dehi, not deha.

Source of human meaning

You may value me for what I have and what I do. But I am not what I have or what I do. If you love me, focus on who I am: my hungers and my fears, and my potential to focus on who you are.

You and I compare Animals and plants do not measure or compare. They fight for as much territory as they need to survive. But humans can measure the size of their property and hence compare. This ability to measure and delimit reality is called maya. Maya establishes the structures, divisions and hierarchies of society, in which we locate our ident.i.ty and the ident.i.ties of those whom we compare ourselves with. We can qualify these yardsticks as unwanted illusions, or necessary delusions, that imagination can easily overturn. While the word maya is used a lot in the Vedas and The Gita in the sense of the magical powers of the human mind, its role in measurement and construction of human perception was elaborated much later in the Vedantic tradition that flowered about a thousand years ago.

Kshetra demands clear demarcation of what is mine and what is yours. In the Mahabharata, the Kauravas do not consider the Pandavas to be theirs, which is why Dhritarashtra refers to his sons as 'mine', and refers to his nephews not as his brother's sons but merely as 'Pandu's sons'. He considers both Hastinapur and Indra-prastha as Kuru-kshetra, belonging to the Kauravas, and sees the Pandavas as intruders.

The Pandava brothers consist of two sets of brothers borne by Pandu's two wives-three sons from Kunti and the twins from Madri. During the gambling match, Yudhishthira first gambles away Nakula, the son of Madri, indicating that he considers his stepbrother a little less his than Arjuna and Bhima. Later in the forest, when his four brothers die after drinking the water of the poisoned lake, and he is given the option of bringing only one of his brothers back, he chooses Nakula over Kunti's sons, indicating a shift in mindset: he realizes that a good king is one who expands his boundaries and turns even half-brothers, cousins and strangers into relatives.

In the Bhagavata, Krishna never talks to Balarama as his half-brother. There is no division between them. He does not treat his biological parents, Devaki and Vasudeva, as different from his foster parents, Yashoda and Nanda. In the Mahabharata, however, Karna never identifies himself with his foster parents, as they are charioteers and he aspires to be an archer.

This ability to create a boundary, and shift boundaries, between what I consider mine and what I do not consider mine comes from maya, the unique human ability to measure, delimit and apportion. The word maya is commonly translated as illusion, or delusion, but its root 'ma' means to 'to measure'. Maya is the delusion when we look at the world through the filter of measurement.

Measurement helps us to label and categorize all things around us in order to make sense of the world. We organize the world into understandable units, such as the periodic table of all elements in chemistry, or the various taxonomies of plants and animals and diseases in biology. Measurement is key to science, to understanding nature. However, with measurement also comes judgement-we not only cla.s.sify, we also compare, create hierarchies, hence compete. This gives rise to conflict.

Mine and Not Mine The kshetragna cannot be compared to anything, as it is infinite and immortal. The atma within you is the same as the atma within me. But if you and I are not in touch with our atma, and we do not empathize with each other's hungers and fears and potential, we will compare our respective kshetras to locate ourselves in a hierarchy and give ourselves an ident.i.ty.

When value comes from what I have, then the more I have, the more valuable I become. And so I want to ensure that I have more than you. That is why in the Ramayana, conflict begins with comparison. Kaikeyi hates being junior queen. So she wants her husband, Dasharatha, king of Ayodhya, to crown her son as heir, so that as queen mother she can dominate over the senior queen, Kaushalya.

The Mahabharata also speaks of conflict generated by comparison. Pandu, king of Hastinapur, retires to the forest following a curse that prevents him from mating with his wives and fathering children. His two wives, Kunti and Madri, follow him to the forest and Kunti tells him of a way to bypa.s.s the curse. 'I have a mantra by which I can invoke a deva and compel him to give me a child.' Pandu does not use this way out until he hears that Gandhari, the blindfolded wife of his blind elder brother, who is now regent of Hastinapur, is pregnant. The compet.i.tive spirit kicks in. He tells Kunti to take advantage of her mantra. She calls upon Yama, Vayu and Indra and begets Yudhishtira, Bhima and Arjuna. Pandu asks for more sons, but Kunti says she cannot use the mantra more than three times. So Pandu begs her to share it with his second wife, Madri. Kunti does as advised but is quite irritated when, using one mantra, Madri begets two children by simply calling the Ashwin k.u.mars, who always come in a pair. She refuses to give Madri the mantra again as she wants to be the mother of more children than Madri. On learning of the birth of Pandu's children, Gandhari is so upset that she gets her midwife to strike her pregnant belly with an iron bar and force the child out. What she delivers instead is a ball of flesh, cold as iron. She divides and transforms this, with the aid of Rishi Vyasa, to get a hundred sons, ninety-eight more than Madri, ninety-seven more than Kunti, to establish her superiority, and hence her husband's.

Humans very instinctively evaluate and compare. In The Gita, when Krishna distinguishes between asuras and devas, we position devas as better than asuras. When Krishna speaks of the three yogas, we wonder which is superior: karma, bhakti or gyana. When Krishna speaks of the three guna, our minds position sattva as better than rajas and rajas as better than tamas. When Krishna speaks of the four varnas, we place Brahmins over Kshatriyas, Kshatriyas over Vaishyas and Vaishyas over Shudras. This is all because of maya.

Materialism In nature, there is a pecking order. But animal domination is not aspirational; it is necessary for survival. Domination ensures they get access to more food. Humans dominate to grant themselves value, and feel good about themselves. Social structures are designed to grant humans ident.i.ty. They are invariably based on comparsion of the social body, what we have: wealth, knowledge, contacts and skills. Kaikeyi, Gandhari, Kunti, Pandu, all compete on the basis of their sons. Who has more children? Whose children are stronger, or smarter? Whose son is king? I am better than you because what I have is bigger or better or faster or richer or prettier or cheaper or nicer or nastier than yours. By comparing our t.i.tles and estates we validate ourselves, make ourselves feel significant and relevant.

Arjuna, the veil of measurements and hierarchies deludes all those who try to make sense of this material world with its three innate tendencies, unless they accept the reality of me, who cannot be measured or compared. Those trapped in this delusion of imagined boundaries behave like demons.-Bhagavad Gita: Chapter 7, verses 13 to 15 (paraphrased).

Maya distracts us from infinity and immortality, from the feeling that the world can continue without us. Maya makes us feel important.

Measurement In the Puranas, there is a sage called Narada who travels from house to house comparing people's talents, t.i.tles and estates: his wife is more beautiful, his son is more talented, his daughter is married to a richer man, he has more followers, his kingdom is larger, she has more jewellery... This comparison evokes feelings of inadequacy and jealousy in people. It fuels ambition and ignites conflicts. Having created the tension, Narada walks away chanting, 'Narayana! Narayana!' But no one hears this. They are too consumed by Narayani (kshetra) to worry about Narayana (kshetragna).

Narada did not want to marry and produce children. He wanted to be a hermit. This annoyed his father, Brahma, who cursed that Narada would wander in material reality forever. This is why Narada spends all his time mocking householders who value themselves on the basis of Narayani, rather than paying attention to the Narayana within.

Once, Narada came to Dwaraka and tried to spark a quarrel in Krishna's house. Krishna's wives asked him what he wanted. 'I want you to give me your husband,' said the mischievous quarrel-monger. The queens said that they could not give their husband. 'Then give me something that you value as equal or more than him.' The queens agreed. Krishna was put on a weighing pan and the queens were asked to put something they valued equal to or more than Krishna on the other pan. Satyabhama put all her gold. But it made no difference; Krishna was heavier. Rukmini then placed a single sprig of tulsi on the pan and declared it to be the symbol of her love for Krishna. Instantly, the weighing scale t.i.tled in her favour and Narada had to be satisfied, not with Satyabhama's gold but with Rukmini's tulsi sprig, symbol of devotion.

This story does not make logical sense: how can a sprig of tulsi weigh more than Krishna? But it makes metaphorical sense. When the sprig is given meaning by human imagination, it becomes heavier than anything else. Human imagination can attribute any value to anything. A dog does not differentiate between gold and stone. But humans see gold as money and can turn a rock into a deity. This is the power of imagination. We cannot measure infinity, as Satyabhama realized when she tried to weigh Krishna against gold. But we can lock infinity in a symbol, as Rukmini did.

Measuring Krishna Arjuna, I am infinite and immortal and yet, respecting the ways of nature, I bind myself in finite and mortal measurable existence.-Bhagavad Gita: Chapter 4, Verse 6 (paraphrased).

Thus in temples, a rock (pinda, linga) or a fossil (shaligrama) can represent the formless divine. It is our imagination that gives value to things, purpose to an activity and ident.i.ty to a thing. We can give meaning or wipe it away. That is the power of maya. It is the power of G.o.d bestowed upon us humans. Maya is often called magic, for it has the power to make the world meaningful, transform every word into a metaphor, every image into a symbol.

Human Ability to Attribute Value Maya can divide and separate, cause conflict by comparison. It can also turn anything around, change reality for us, for our mind can give meaning to anything. For example, a hermit may see s.e.x and violence as horrible, while a householder may see s.e.x and violence as necessary, even pleasurable. Maya can divide the world. It can also unite the world, serve as the glue to a relationship, as we expand our boundaries to include whoever we wish. Duryodhana's inclusion of Karna, a charioteer's son, but exclusion of Arjuna, his royal cousin, is a case in point. That is why, in colloquial parlance, maya also means 'affection', that which binds relationships together.

When people say in Hindi, 'Sab maya hai,' it is commonly translated as 'the world is an illusion or a delusion'. What it means is that the world can be whatever we imagine it to be-valuable or valueless, fuelling ambition or cynicism.

In Vedanta there is a popular Sanskrit phrase, 'Jagad mithya, brahma satya!' It is translated as 'the world is a mirage and only divinity is real'. 'Mithya' means a measured limited truth created through maya. So the phrase can also be translated as 'the material world is an incomplete reality, made complete by imagination and language'. We can manufacture depression and joy in our lives by the way we measure, delimit and apportion the world. The world itself has no intrinsic measurement.

Arjuna, the wise look at a learned man, an outcaste, a cow, an elephant or a dog with an equal eye. A person who sees equality in all, and is equanimous in all pleasant and unpleasant situations, has realized the divine for the divine is impartial too.-Bhagavad Gita: Chapter 5, verses 18 to 20 (paraphrased).

Do you derive your ident.i.ty by comparing yourself with me? This is maya, a necessary delusion without which society cannot function. It can uplift you with inspiration, depress you with jealousy or grant you peace by revealing how different you are from me.

You and I cling If I am what I own, then I cling to what I have to secure my value in the world. And when you try to take it from me, I feel violated, for my ident.i.ty is attached to my property. In this chapter we shall explore moha, an attachment to boundaries that separates 'mine' from 'not mine' and transforms violence into violation. Violation is psychological violence, that may or may not be a.s.sociated with physical violence, and the pain is even more searing, for it involves the very invalidation of our ident.i.ty. It is directly proportional to our relationship with all that we consider 'mine'. The idea of attachment flows through The Gita and plays a key role in Hindu hermit and householder traditions, meriting a separate chapter.

All his life the Buddha spoke about the impermanence of things (anikka, in Pali) and the notion of non-self (anatta, in Pali). Yet, after he died and his body was cremated, the remains of his body (tooth, hair, nails, bones) were collected by his disciples and worshipped as relics placed in stupas. Chaityas were built to enshrine the stupas and around the chaityas came up the viharas where monks lived. The monks could not let the Buddha slip away into oblivion. They clung to his physical remains, despite his explicit instructions not to do so, seeking permanence of the mortal remains of the teacher who expounded on life's impermanence. The story goes that when the Buddha was dying, his disciples wept and wondered how they would live without their master. The Buddha then realized that he had hoped to be a raft that takes people across the river of sorrow, but people chose to make him a palanquin that they wanted to carry around and be burdened with forever. He wanted to liberate them; they wanted to fetter themselves.

This is one of the ironies of Buddhism. This irony exists even in Hindu monastic traditions, where monks cling to the bodily remains of their teacher, and rather than cremate the corpse, they mummify it with salt, bury it and build a memorial over it, so that the teacher can be venerated forever. This memorial is called a samadhi, encasing the mortal remains of the hermit who voluntarily gave up his property (kshetra) initially and his body (deha) eventually.

In nature, there are natural forces of attraction and repulsion, even between two objects. Plants and animals are drawn to food and shun threats. Over and above this, humans cling (raga) to property (kshetra) that grants them value in society. We convince ourselves that our social body defines our ident.i.ty. To be told that our true ident.i.ty is intangible and immeasurable (kshetragna) seems quite unbelievable, as it can never be proven, only believed. So we cling to goals or rules, to property or relatives, to t.i.tles or ideas, and fight over them as animals fight over territory. Animals fight because the survival of their body depends on it. Humans fight as the survival of their ident.i.ty (aham) depends on it. Clinging is comforting. Insecurity fuels desire (kama) for more, and so acquiring more becomes the purpose of life. We get angry (krodha) when we don't get them, become greedy (lobha) once we get them, get attached (moha) to them, become intoxicated with pride (mada) because we possess things, feel jealous of those who have more and insecure around those who have less (matsarya). Material reality thus enchants us and crumples our mind several times over. These are called the six obstacles (arishad-varga) that prevent the mind from expanding, the aham from transforming into atma and discovering bhagavan.

Kama and Krodha Arjuna, from aggressive material tendencies is born desire in the senses, in the heart and the head. Desire is insatiable and if not indulged can result in rage. Desire and rage can block all wisdom, as smoke masks fire, dust masks mirrors and the womb masks a baby.-Bhagavad Gita: Chapter 3, verses 37 to 40 (paraphrased).

We also shun (dvesha) things out of fear. We avoid taking ownership, responsibility or proprietorship in fear. We are terrified of heartbreak, and so refuse to fall in love. We are terrified of failing, and so avoid struggles. We are terrified of the outcome, and so refuse to take any action. We clearly demarcate what is mine and what is not mine. If attraction of things makes us householders, and revulsion of things makes us hermits, then neither is actually wise, as neither accepts reality. As householders, we wish we expand the mine, sometimes at the cost of yours. As hermits, we want to shun even what is mine and reject all that is yours.

Reality is allowing things to come to us naturally and not seeking things that do not come to us naturally. Wisdom is bearing the fruit we are supposed to bear and not wanting to bear fruit that we cannot bear. Depending on its guna, a tree bears mango fruit; this is not ambition or desire, it is simply realization of potential. If we expect a mango tree to bear apples, then problems start. We do not respect guna. A human being can become a king, a warrior, a merchant, a servant or a poet, depending on his qualities and potential. If we try to change a warrior into a poet because we are revolted by war or attracted to poetry, then we cause tension and suffering. Hinduism therefore does not talk of conversion, only realization of potential. To let our potential be realized without deriving our ident.i.ty from it, or without denying its existence, is the hallmark of wisdom.

Same or Different Arjuna, all beings follow their nature. Even the wise act according to their nature. What is the value of restraint then? Your senses will naturally be drawn to or revolted by things around the body. Do not let them beguile you and distract you from discovering yourself.-Bhagavad Gita: Chapter 3, Verses 33 and 34 (paraphrased).

To want nothing (shunya) is as delusional as to want everything (ananta). The wise want nothing but accept whatever comes their way, letting it pa.s.s when it is time to part ways. Ram is not Ram because of what he has on account of his birth (royal status) or because of what he has achieved (killing Ravana). Even without these possessions or achievements, he would still be Ram.

Arjuna, he who identifies himself with the atma engages with the material pleasures without attachment or revulsion, and so is always at peace.-Bhagavad Gita: Chapter 2, Verse 64 (paraphrased).

In nature there is violence. In culture there is also violation, for things are not just things, they are markers of ident.i.ty. Animals do not feel violated when their territories are invaded, or their bodies attacked. They fight back for survival, but there is no morality attached to the violence. Amongst humans, since we identify ourselves through things, an attack on what we consider ours becomes a violation of our ident.i.ty. This is unique to the human species.

Humans can violate another human by attacking their social body (kshetra) without even touching their physical body (deha). The pain is felt in the mind. The damage is done to the mental body (aham) that gets its value from the external body. Thus, when a pa.s.serby scratches our car, we feel hurt. The scratch on the car does not physically hurt us, but we feel emotionally disturbed. We are violated, even though there is no violence, for our car is our property, a part of our social body, that contributes to our ident.i.ty. Human society conditions us to cling to things around us, gain ident.i.ty through relationships, t.i.tles and estates. In other words, culture celebrates moha and mada.

Mada refers to the fluid that oozes out of the temples of a s.e.xually aroused bull elephant. This state is called 'musth', when the animal seems fully aroused and intoxicated and can attack anything that comes in its way. It is determined to get what it wants. From mada comes the word madira, which means wine. From mada comes the word Madan, which refers to Kama, G.o.d of l.u.s.t.

Mada: Literal and Metaphorical But Krishna is also called Madan Mohan. He even turns into the enchantress Mohini. Vishnu and all his incarnations are a.s.sociated with a lot of s.e.xual and violent behaviour. But these are distinguished from attachment and revulsion, for Vishnu's actions are designed to give value to those around him, not derive value for himself.

In the Ramayana, Ravana demonstrates this mada when he refuses to give up Sita, even after Ram kills his son, Indrajit, and his brother, k.u.mbhakarna, and Ram's army of monkeys set Lanka aflame. He clings to Sita and refuses to turn to Ram. He finds meaning in Sita because he sees her as Ram's property. He wants to violate Ram by claiming Sita, whom he views as Ram's property. Ram, though, does not see Sita as his property, but as his responsibility. Ram, however, does not seek to violate Ravana; he simply wants to rescue Sita, for her security is the responsibility of the Raghu clan, into which she was given in marriage. He fights not because he wants what is 'his' back, but because he refuses to value 'her'. In fact, after the battle is over, he does not expect her to follow him; he offers her a choice to go wherever she wishes and she chooses to return with him to Ayodhya.

In the Mahabharata, when Krishna kills Kansa, he simply kills a man who threatens his life. It is an act of defence, not offence. This is violence, not violation. There is no desire to dominate Kansa, to hurt or humiliate him. However, Jarasandha feels violated, because Kansa to him is his social body, his property, on whom his self-esteem rests. He attacks Mathura, intent on killing Krishna, and burns the city to the ground. This act is violation, adharma. Later, with the help of Bhima, Krishna gets Jarasandha killed. Again the desire is not to hurt or humiliate Jarasandha or dominate him, but to enable Yudhishthira to be king, make him sovereign, something that Jarasandha would not have allowed.

Duryodhana's decision to disrobe Draupadi and not return Pandava land comes from the desire to violate the Pandavas. By violating them, he nourishes his aham. Krishna does not want Arjuna to do the same. He wants Arjuna to fight without seeking to violate his enemies. He does not indulge Bhima's bloodl.u.s.t. Violence is unavoidable in the world, for it enables the living to nourish themselves, but violation is nothing but a vulgar indulgence of aham for its own self-aggrandizement.

Violence and Violation In the Bhagavata Purana, there is the story of Gajendra, the king of elephants, who in a state of 'musth', enters a pond of lotus flowers to sport with his harem of cow elephants, when suddenly a crocodile grabs his leg and drags him underwater. Gajendra tries to escape, but in vain, as no one comes to his rescue. Lost, helpless, he prays to Vishnu, who appears and strikes the crocodile away.

This is a metaphor for a mind consumed by pa.s.sion, seeking gratification in the material world and suddenly finding the world turning against it, becoming even more hostile. The solution is not to fight harder, for that only leads to the crocodile tightening its grip. The solution is to stop fighting and have faith that another force will intervene.

Gajendra Moksha In the story, Gajendra chooses to see himself as a victim and the crocodile as a villain. If he wins, he will be hailed as a hero and if he loses, he will still be hailed as a martyr who died trying. But the observer can see that the crocodile is no villain: it looks upon Gajendra either as threat, or as food. The crocodile's violence is not violation. But Gajendra sees it as violation, as he is in a state of mada, seeing himself as the king of elephants, master of all the cow elephants, loved and feared by all, and not as an animal, prey to a predator. Rather than imagining violation, being heroic or acting like a martyr, Vedic wisdom suggests that we recognize maya, moha and mada at work, stop struggling over imagined boundaries, and have faith that life is shaped by many other forces, not just the ones we have control over.

As long as we don't have faith, we carry the burden of solving all problems. We will be impatient and fight and cling. Wisdom is enjoying things that drift in and letting go of things that drift away, like watching the waves drift in and out of the beach.

Arjuna, those who keep thinking of property get attached to it and crave it relentlessly, which causes frustration, which leads to anger, then confusion, then loss of memory, then loss of intelligence, and eventually destruction.-Bhagavad Gita: Chapter 2, verses 62 and 63 (paraphrased).

There is no violation in nature. Only violence. Violation follows when we grant meaning to things and derive our ident.i.ty from them. We are attached to property as long as we are disconnected from atma.

You and I can be generous Moksha is liberation from the fear that makes us cling. Only when we let go can we be materially and emotionally and intellectually generous. This alternative to the trap of rebirth is ofered by Krishna in Chapter 8 of The Gita. The tug-of-war between the inner world of liberation and the outer world of entrapment is elaborated in Chapter 15 of The Gita. In Chapter 18 of The Gita, Krishna clarifies whether letting go involves giving up of action itself, or giving up the expectation for a particular reaction.

Chapter 15 begins with a spectacular visual to explain the world we live in.

Arjuna, there is a banyan tree that grows upside down, its roots in the sky and its trunk below. The wise know that Veda const.i.tutes its leaves. The branches go up and down, as a consequence of nature's tendencies, nourished by experiences. The aerial roots that grow down are actions born of desire that bind it to the realm of men. Wisdom alone can cut these downward roots, enabling discovery of the reverse banyan tree, with its primal roots, before enchantment of the senses began and obscured the view.-Bhagavad Gita: Chapter 15, verses 1 to 4 (paraphrased).

The banyan tree is sacred to the Hindus. It symbolizes immortality (akshaya). But it is unique in that it has primary roots and secondary roots. The latter grow from its branches and eventually become so thick that it becomes impossible to distinguish them from the main tree trunk.

In this verse, Krishna visualizes a banyan tree growing from the sky, its primary roots rising up into the sky, its secondary roots growing down to the earth. Thus, it is being nourished from above and below. The primary root rising from the sky is nourished by inner mental reality. The secondary roots going down to the earth are nourished by external material reality.

The tree is who we are. We are nourished from within as well as without. Within is the atma that is immortal and infinite, and so does not suffer from the anxieties of the mortal and the finite. It is neither hungry nor frightened, nor does it yearn for validation. Without is the world of things, people, our relationships, our desires and frustrations. When we derive value from the outside, we a.s.sume that our ident.i.ty is the anxious aham. So Krishna advises Arjuna to use the axe of knowledge (gyana) to cut down all secondary roots, take refuge in the primary root of atma and liberate himself. This is moksha, liberation, where we no longer seek validation from the outside, but feel eternally validated from the inside. Moksha is liberation from fear.

Arjuna, he who truly understands the truth of mind, matter and material tendencies is liberated from rebirth, no matter what his lifestyle.-Bhagavad Gita: Chapter 13, Verse 23 (paraphrased).

Upside-down Banyan Tree The Buddha spoke of desire (tanha, in Pali) as the cause of all suffering. Hence he advised people to shun desire by accepting the truth of life-nothing is fixed or permanent, not even ident.i.ty.

The Gita, however, speaks of two kinds of ident.i.ty: external ident.i.ty or aham, based on property, and internal ident.i.ty or atma, based on wisdom. Aham is the fruit of fear. Atma is the fruit of wisdom. Aham is the seed of kama, krodha, lobha, moha, mada and matsarya. Atma results in moksha. With atma, we don't cling. We don't seek control. We simply let go. We become generous. And we allow.

Mada to Moksha Arjuna, one who gives up conceit and ownership and craving, in other words the sense of 'I', 'mine' and 'me', will always find peace.-Bhagavad Gita: Chapter 2, Verse 71 (paraphrased).

How we give things away to others is a good indicator of moksha. In a yagna, a svaha can be either dakshina, bhiksha or daan. Dakshina is payment for service received. In other words, with dakshina we repay a debt (rin), complete a transaction and are free from all obligations. Bhisksha is charity, a good deed (punya) for which we expect something in exchange-respect, admiration, acknowledgment or blessings. Daan is giving away things without expecting anything in return. There is no expectation from the devata. No obligation is imposed upon him. There is no talk of debt, or fruit of action. In The Gita, daan can be sattvik, rajasik or tamasik. Dakshina and bhiksha are equated with rajasik daan.

Arjuna, charity that is given to a suitable candidate at the right time and place without expecting him to give anything in return is sattvik; charity given unwillingly or to get something in return is rajasik; charity given without thought, at the wrong time and place to unsuitable candidates out of contempt and disrespect is tamasik.-Bhagavad Gita: Chapter 17, verses 20 to 22 (paraphrased).

This is elaborated in two stories, one from the Mahabharata and one from the Bhagavata. Both stories have the same beginning but very different endings.

Two childhood friends, out of affection for each other, promise to share all that they possess even when they grow into adulthood. One is the son of a n.o.bleman, the other the son of a priest. Fortune favours the n.o.bleman's son, not the priest's son. Reduced to abject poverty, the desperate but hesitant priest's son decides to approach his rich friend.

In the Mahabharata, Drupada, king of Panchala, insults the pauper Drona for a.s.suming that promises of childhood matter in adulthood. He tells Drona to earn a service fee, or beg for alms, as befits a priest, rather than demand a share of the royal fortune in the name of friendship, as if it was his right. Friendship can only exist between equals, he is told. A furious Drona leaves the palace, determined to become Drupada's equal-a decision that leads to a spiral of vendetta that culminates in the b.l.o.o.d.y carnage at Kuru-kshetra with Drona supporting the Kauravas and Drupada supporting the Pandavas.

In the Bhagavata, however, the pauper is Sudama and the king, Krishna. He is warmly welcomed and showered with lavish gifts by his rich friend.

Drupada does what a king is supposed to: lay down the law, tell Drona not to curry personal favours and advise him to behave instead in keeping with his role in society. As a priest, Drona can either ask for a fee (dakshina) if services are rendered, or for alms (bhiksha) if no services are rendered. Drupada, unfortunately, does not do darshan: he does not see that Drona is embarra.s.sed by his need to ask for help, so hides his awkwardness by reminding Drupada of his childhood promise and 'demanding' his share. Drona also does not do darshan: he is too consumed by his poverty to notice that Drupada is a changed man, not the friend he once knew.

Sudama, on the other hand, despite being poor, is sensitive to the change of status over the years. He does darshan of Krishna and realizes his childhood friend may not recognize him, considering that years have pa.s.sed and fortunes have changed. Despite his poverty, he carries a gift for Krishna: a packet of puffed rice saved by denying himself a few meals. Krishna also does darshan of Sudama, does not gloat over the latter's poverty but instead demands affection, even a gift, making Sudama realize he is still remembered and much loved. Sudama, overwhelmed by Krishna's generosity, asks for nothing, only to discover he is given everything.

Daan creates neither obligations nor expectations. It is an indicator of moksha. Moksha follows when we do not feel we have to cling to our wealth or dominate people around us, because we do not derive our ident.i.ty either from our wealth or our power. Wealth and power are just tools to make our life comfortable, and enable those around us.

Types of Charity Another indicator of moksha is allowing, which is essentially emotional generosity. We notice that the Ramayana ends in tragedy, with Sita being banished. The Bhagavata also ends with heartbreak, with Krishna promising Radha, the gopikas and his mother, Yashoda, that he will come back, but not returning because of his obligations in Mathura. Even the Mahabharata ends with the realization of the curse hurled by Gandhari at Krishna for not preventing the death of her children, or those of Draupadi.

However, a sad Sita is not angry at Ram. She knows him and understands him well, his wisdom, his love, as well as the burdens of kingship that limit him. A heartbroken Radha is not angry at Krishna. She too understands that Krishna has to walk his path, and even she cannot be his companion, as she has familial obligations. A thoughtful Krishna is not angry at Gandhari. He understands her rage, her inability to take responsibility for her blindfold that contributed to her children's insecurity. Sita does not derive her ident.i.ty from Ram. Radha does not derive her ident.i.ty from Krishna. Krishna does not derive his ident.i.ty from Gandhari. All three are immersed in dehi, atma, kshetri, brahmana and bhagavan. Each one is an inverted banyan tree, forever nourished by the sky, and forever nourishing the earth.

Limited to Limitlessness