As the country waits, apprehensively, for the Allahabad High Court decision on the Babri Masjid case, and conversations are focussed on it, my mind goes back to several stories I read as a child about Shri Krishna.
Two of them are worth recounting.
In the first, Shri Krishna kills Shishupala, a long-time enemy and detractor, when he abuses him for the 101st time, having crossed the limit of 100 insults that Shri Krishna has promised He will forgive.
In the second, Shri Krishna miraculously arranges for an arrow of Arjuna, to whom he is the charioteer, to cut off the head of Sudhanva, an ardent devotee and worshipper of His. Sudhanva, a prince, has come out to fight Arjuna on principle, because he refuses to accept the Pandava’s hegemony, being imposed through a Rajsuya Yagya.
In each case, one that of an enemy and the other that of a devotee, a luminosity (soul?) from the dying man enters Shri Krishna, to be merged with Him, in a final release from the cycle of birth and death (Moksha).
In several other stories of Shri Krishna, a similar “sadgati” is afforded to those who are killed by Him.
Shri Krishna is Jagadguru (the Teacher of the Universe) and Purnavatara (the Complete Incarnation), so presumably his life offers pointers to how we might live our lives. Since He is supremely effective, it also presumably offers an inkling of how we might succeed in our missions.
In several conversations and in slogans, I have heard this interpretation of the message of the Bhagwad Gita: faced with a duty to protect Dharma, use of force is sanctioned by the Lord. Indeed, He incarnates Himself to ensure that the evil-doers are punished, even exterminated.
The stories narrated above, it seems to me, add another dimension to that message.
A merging of the very essence of our existence is the ultimate testimony of togetherness. We are not separate, the Lord seems to say to Shishupala, his enemy. You are Me, and I will demonstrate it literally by merging Myself with you.
We can be squeamish about just eating from someone’s plate, even a friend’s. The Lord takes Shishupala into Himself, in an extraordinary statement of acceptance.
What is the state of mind which, at the point of using overwhelming, exterminating force, is so completely free of anger and fear that it can see no separateness from the target of that violence? What is the nature of the action that precedes, suffuses and follows the violent act when the mind is in this state?
For those of us who look to the Bhagvad Gita as a beacon, might we consider Shri Krishna’s lead? Might we seek, as a pre-condition to any action, a state of mind that is free of separateness, free of anger, willing to embrace the other, in the certain knowledge that being otherwise can only bring further misery?
