Lecture III

THE STORY ON THE ETHICAL PLANE

Some one has remarked about the Iliad that in that epic we have a second-rate subject made into a first-rate—and indeed an incomparable—poem by the genius of a great poet. I think this is true of the Mahābhārata also, — though, naturally, in a very different way.

The story of the Great Epic of India centres round the fortunes of two rival branches of a very ancient royal family whose mutual jealousy and quarrels lead to a devastating war which ends in an almost complete annihilation of that large family, along with the allies and supporters of both sides. Of the eighteen akṣauhiṇīs or armies which met and fought on the battlefield of Kurukṣetra, on that tragic and fateful occasion, there survived — we are told — only nine souls, the five Pāṇḍavas with Śrī Kṛṣṇa on one side and on the other only three minor warriors: a terrible lesson which humanity must, it seems, learn afresh at the end of every great war.

The conflict is on the face of it a common fratricidal war of annihilation for the possession of a throne, which was probably not the first of its kind and which certainly was not the last. History has on the other hand on record magnificent instances of heroic struggles of the common people against ambitious ruthless tyrants or of weak nations against powerful foreign foes, wars which awaken our sympathy and stir us deeply. But an internecine war among kinsfolk for a share in a paltry patrimony can hardly be said to possess any redeeming feature, whatever heroism be displayed by individual combatants participating in the war. Some of the minor incidents of our story likewise do not reflect any great credit on the actors in that tragic drama. Many critics, I think, would admit with a pang that the subject of the Gambling Match, for instance, was not quite in the first rank of nobleness. Consider the fact that the heroes of the poem undergo all those trials and tribulations merely as a result of an insane game of dice at which Yudhiṣṭhira, the eldest Pāṇḍava, using — or rather abusing — his absolute and autocratic powers as the ruler of a kingdom and the head of a joint family, foolishly stakes and gambles away successively his personal belongings, his kingdom, his four brothers, himself, and finally, when there is nothing in the wide world left to call his own, even his devoted wife. And why does he do all this? Merely because — we are told — as a Kṣatriya or an honourable knight, Yudhiṣṭhira, who was an utter novice at the game, could not very well refuse to play when challenged. These facts, it must be conceded, put the emotion several degrees lower.

What gives this trivial tale of petty jealousy, intrigue and strife between rival claimants to a small kingdom in North India real depth and significance is the projection of the story on to a cosmic background, by its own interpretation of the Bhārata War as a mere incident in the ever recurring struggle between the Devas and the Asuras; in other words, as a mere phase in cosmic evolution.

Let us examine this point a little more fully. The Ādiparvan relates in great detail the story of the birth of all important persons participating in the drama, who are described there as being either incarnations of Devas or Asuras, or else of other than mortal parentage. The story goes that it is in response to the prayer of the outraged Earth, wasted by the tyranny of demonic kings then ruling, that Viṣṇu takes birth among the Yādavas along with other heavenly beings — gods, ṛṣis, gandharvas, kinnaras and so on — with a view to relieving the burden of the Earth. Thus, according to the epic itself, the

Mahābhārata War is the expression of a state of tension between two ideal orders of beings, a moral type wherein the gods become incarnate as heroic individuals and an immoral — or rather an unmoral — type which it is the object of the former to destroy. This war — or, to give it a more general name, conflict — is an eternal recurrence, a phenomenon assuming in the space-time continuum the most diverse forms and aspects. The Mahābhārata thus becomes the type or the archetype of all wars or conflicts of the past, the present or the future.

This aspect of the Mahābhārata as a projection on the cosmic background deserves to be dealt with in greater detail as it is an aspect which appears not to be widely known or understood. About the cosmic character or Śrī Kṛṣṇa, the epic itself is not in any doubt. He is an Īśvara. He is the Puruṣa of the Sāmkhyas; the Brahman, the Ātman or the Paramātman of the Vedantins. The man of knowledge affirms that Vāsudeva is All (Vāsudevaḥ sarvam iti, Gītā 7. 19). Clearly he cannot be more. I may add, there is to my knowledge not a single passage in the Mahābhārata which does not presuppose the divinity or the cosmic character of Śrī Kṛṣṇa; or, to put it more precisely, which does not assume that he is an Avatāra or incarnation of Viṣṇu-Nārāyaṇa, in the peculiar sense in which the word "Avatāra" is used in Indian philosophy or meta-physics.

The five Pāṇḍavas are treated equally clearly as incarnations of gods on a lower plane: Yudhiṣṭhira of Dharma, Bhīma of Vāyu, Arjuna of Indra, and the Twins, Nakula and Sahadeva, of the Aśvins.

As for Yudhiṣṭhira, his standing epithet is Dharmarāja, the king who was Dharma incarnate. He is uniformly described as the son of Dharma (Dharmasuta or Dharmasūnu), a portion, that is, part-incarnation, of Dharma (Dharma-syāṁśaḥ). His whole life is cast in the mould of Dharma (3. 32. 4):
dharma eva manaḥ Kṛṣṇe svabhāvāc caiva me dhṛtam
Of the five brothers, Yudhiṣṭhira alone is able to answer the questions of Dharma, who confronts him in the shape of a Yakṣa.

By doing that he secures the restoration to life of his brothers who, while searching for the fire-sticks belonging to a Brahmin, and getting thirsty, had drunk the waters of an enchanted lake and died instantly. Again, when the Pāṇḍavas, after renouncing the world, make their last great journey, Yudhiṣṭhira refuses to enter heaven without his faithful dog, which had followed him all the way from the capital and which reveals itself in the end again to have been the god Dharma in disguise. There can, therefore, be no doubt that the figure of Yudhiṣṭhira is conceived as standing in special relation to Dharma, as being in fact the embodiment of Dharma. And this conception is consistently carried through by the epic poets.

The intimate connection between Bhīma and Vāyu is equally manifest. It is seen for one thing very markedly in his superhuman strength, his wild impetuosity, and sweeping gusts of violent temper. When his brothers and mother seek to escape from Vāraṇāvata, which was intended by the malignant Duryodhana to be their funeral pyre, they succeed in making their escape owing to the efforts of Bhīma, who carries all five of them on his back. When his mace was not at hand, a favourite trick of his was to uproot large trees, quickly tear off their leaves, and make out of them gigantic bludgeons with which he belaboured his opponents till they became senseless. Both these are feats worthy of the son of the wind-god.

As for Arjuna, who is frequently styled Aindri, Indrasuta or Indrasūnu, it is effectively borne in upon the reader that he is a special favourite of Indra. He is the only one among the Pāṇḍava brothers who visits and resides in the world of Indra (Indraloka), where he is accorded a specially warm welcome. Indra shows his favour by letting him share his throne and imparting to him the secret knowledge of divine weapons. On a subsequent occasion the king of the gods, in the guise of a humble Brahmin, begs from Karṇa,—Arjuna's foremost adversary,—his armour and ear-rings, which had made Karṇa invincible.

The Twins, Nakula and Sahadeva, do not play any important or independent role in the epic drama, but they inherit the beauty, comeliness and kindly disposition of the Aśvins. And when the twins seek service during the twelve months' incognito at the court of Virāṭa, Nakula, the elder of the twins, becomes the superintendent of horses and the younger one becomes the superintendent of cattle.

The Kauravas were likewise incarnations of Asuras or Antigods. Duryodhana, the eldest of the Kaurava brothers, was Kali himself (Kalipūruṣaḥ), the arch-fiend, evil incarnate. The inseparable associate of Kali is Dvāpara, who was born as Śakuni, the arch-gambler, the intimate adviser and helpmate of Duryodhana in evil designs.

A very clear proof of the fact that the Kauravas were viewed by the epic poets as incarnations of the Asuras will be found in adhyaya 240 of the Āraṇyakarparvan, where it is narrated that Duryodhana and his companions go to the Dvaitavana Forest with a view to displaying their magnificence and putting the Pāṇḍavas to shame. On the way they are taken prisoners by the Gandharvas; who happened to be sporting there; and they are rescued by the efforts of the Pāṇḍavas themselves. Duryodhana, in his chagrin, vows to starve himself to death, but is dissuaded by the Daityas and the Dānavas, who plead that if he dies, their cause is lost (3.240.23 cd):

vinaşte tvayi cāsmākam pakço hiyeta Kaurava /

Duryodhana' is their only refuge as the Pāṇḍavas are of the gods (3.240.24 cd).

tvam asmākam gatir nityaṁ devatānāṁ ca Pāṇḍavāḥ /

They point out to Duryodhana that Daityas and Rākṣasas have been born among the Kṣatriyas who would fight Duryodhana's enemies, and the Dānavas have been born on earth to help Duryodhana (3.240):

daityarakṣogaṇāś caiva saṁbhūtāḥ kṣatrayoniṣu /
yotsyanti yudhi vikramya śatrubhiś tava pārthiva // 17 abcd
sahāyārtham ca te vīrāḥ saṁbhūtā bhuvi dānavāḥ / 10 cd

A whole chapter of the Ādiparvan, the Book of Genesis, is devoted to the development of this idea. The good and evil prototypes of almost all the chief actors of the drama, among the Devas and the Asuras, are individually listed as in a formal cast of any modern drama.

The blind king Dhṛtarāṣṭra was an incarnation of Haṁsa, a son of Ariṣṭa. The word ariṣṭa means, among other things, evil, ill luck, calamity or a portentous phenomenon foreboding misfortune. The progeny of Ariṣṭa must therefore be the harbinger of calamity, as Dhṛtarāṣṭra and Duryodhana proved to be. The brothers of Duryodhana, Duḥśāsana and others, were the Pulastya demons (I.61.82). Pulastya was the father of Viśravas and grandfather of Rāvaṇa; and all the Rākṣasas are said to have sprung from him. So much for the Kuru family.

But our list comprises not merely the major characters just mentioned, but even such very minor characters as Dhṛṣṭaketu, Druma, Bhagadatta, Ketumān, Śālva, Bṛhadratha, Nagnajit, Prativindhya, and a host of others too numerous to mention. The details do not matter to us. I am citing these facts merely to show you how seriously the epic poets took the aspect of the story as an incident, or rather as an act, of the cosmic drama.

It should not be imagined that the account of the cosmic character of the Mahābhārata is in any sense an "interpolation". It may have been an afterthought; but even this afterthought is sufficiently early and deeply ingrained in the texture of the epic in the form in which we have received it; and that is all that matters to us here.

Speculation is rife regarding the antecedants of Sri Krsna. Was Sri Krsna originally god or man? BARTH held that Krsna was probably at first the kuladevata, the ethnic god, of some powerful confederation of Rajput clans, — a character, as he puts it, "of complex quality, mingling myths of fire, lightning, storm, heaven and sun". HOPKINS partly agreed with BARTH. He writes learnedly of the "Gangetic Krsna" as the "patron god of the Pandavas", who "sinks from god to man, not vice versa" — the tribal hero as sun-god became recognized by the priests as one with Visnu". It is not very clear to me what HOPKINS exactly means, but I hope it is to you. KEITH, who may stand as a representative of those who see in the original Krsna a deity of vegetation, rejects the solar theory on the ground that it is a little difficult to ascribe to Kṛṣṇa an original solar character, as his name tells seriously against such an identification. "The 'dark sun,'" as KEITH pertinently observes, "requires more explanation than it seems likely to receive."

With regard to these airy speculations of Western savants, it may be observed that there is absolutely no direct and positive evidence to support the theories that originally Kṛṣṇa was some kind of god, who was subsequently transformed by the epic poets into a man, — a claim which may, therefore, be unhesitatingly rejected as not proved. We come back, therefore, more convinced than ever, to the old position that Śrī Kṛṣṇa, who plays so important a part in the epic drama, was in very truth a Kṣatriya chieftain who participated in the Bhārata War. His father's name was Vasudeva and his mother's Devakī, after whom he was known as Devakī-nandana. He had an elder brother Balarāma or Saṅkarṣaṇa, and he sprang from the ancient Vṛṣṇi or Sātvata branch of the family of the Yādavas. Their original home was in Mathurā, a city with which history and tradition alike connect Śrī Kṛṣṇa's name. There is, moreover, reason to believe that he is identical with Kṛṣṇa, son of Devakī (Devakīputra), who is mentioned in the Chāndogya Upaniṣad (3.17.6) as a pupil of Ghora Aṅgirasa and who was initiated by his guru in some secret doctrine. We must, therefore, be content with taking Śrī Kṛṣṇa to be a person of the same order of reality as the other heroes of the epic, the Pāṇḍavas and the Kauravas. There is no cogent reason to separate Śrī Kṛṣṇa from the other chief actors in this drama. Nay, it seems impossible to separate him from them. And just as the latter are uniformly treated as incarnations of the minor gods and the anti-gods of the Indian pantheon, so Śrī Kṛṣṇa is also consistently treated as the incarnation of the Supreme Being. As I said, there is no passage in the epic which does not presuppose, or which contradicts, his character as an incarnation of the Supreme Being, who is generally called in our epic Viṣṇu or Nārāyaṇa.

This projection on to a cosmic background raises our epic story at once to a much higher level of thought, giving it for one thing, linguistic and ideological continuity with the Vedic antiquity. It stamps the epic at the same time as the artistic expression of a primordial experience, which, as C. J. JUNG puts it, "derives its existence from the hinterland of man's mind — that suggests the abyss of time separating us from pre-human ages or evokes a superhuman world of contrasting light and darkness". That is however no reason for condemning these inspirations of ancient seers as worthless lucubrations of an infantile, pre-logical age. For, as the same great psychologist points out, "these primordial experiences, though they surpass man's understanding, rend the curtain upon which is painted the picture of an ordered world, and allow a glimpse into the unfathomed abyss of what has not yet become."

We shall return to the deeper significance of the cosmic projection in the sequel. Let us meanwhile examine closer the points of contact between the Vedic and the epic ideology. The Vedas, as is well known, are full of allusions to the conflict between the Devas and the Asuras, but the Yajurveda and its Brāhmaṇas are particularly rich in such references. One of them is the Taittirīya Brāhmaṇa (1.1.10), which says that Prajāpati created Virāj and that the gods and the demons quarrelled over its possession :

Prajāpatiḥ prajā asrijata / sa vīricāno 'manyata /
sa tapo 'tapyata / sa ātmānam vīryam apaśyat /
tad asmāt sahasordhvam asrijyala / sa virāḍ abhāvat /
tam devāsurā vyagghnata /

Virāj or Virāṭ is sometimes regarded as a male power; but in the Atharva Veda (8.10.28; 11.8.30) Virāj is spoken of as a female (as in the present passage) and regarded as a cow. The sex of the first creations is of no consequence in mythology. In fact they must be androgynous, as necessitated by the primitive conditions of ambivalence. Here Virāj is taken as a female and must be assumed to be a cow. For the Brāhmaṇa passage goes on to say that Prajāpati cautioned the Devas and the Asuras, saying :

mama vā esā / doha eva yuṣmākam iti /

"She is mine forsooth. Yours shall be only the milk." This Virāj, I need not point out, is the prototype of the mythical

cow of Vasiṣṭha, which satisfies all desires, the cow of plenty (Kāmadhenu or Kāmādhuḥ). It is in other words material prosperity. In course of time the conflicts between the Devas and the Asuras became more frequent and more sanguinary. And the Brahmanic idea is that the Devas used ritualistic performances and the mystic forces liberated by such performances to overcome the Asuras.

Now, since the Vedic times there had been a silent transition in thought from the many gods to whom the most elaborate forms of sacrifices were ordained in the Vedas to the One Absolute of the Upaniṣads. In the course of this deposition of the gods to subordinate intelligences, all the rituals and sacrifices had become, by a mere process of exegesis, symbols and texts for the deepest Vedantic speculation. Parallel to this development there was the change in the aims and the character of the traditional war between the Devas and the Asuras. Whereas the Vedic conflict between the warring parties was merely for the sake of aiśvarya, lordship of the worlds, a phase of power-politics, the Mahābhārata War, fought between later incarnations of these very Devas and Asuras, is motivated in a very different manner. This war was for the sake of Dharma, moral law, an abstract principle difficult even to define precisely; it is so subtle. The Kurukṣetra was above all a dharmakṣetra (dharmakṣetre Kurukṣetre. Gītā 1.1). The forces are the same, but they are now ranged on the sides of Dharma and Adharma. The Pāndava hero, Yudhiṣṭhira, though "firm in battle", is a Dharmarāja. He is the son of Dharma; therefore, according to Indian conceptions, Dharma incarnate. Duryodhana, on the other side, the eldest Kaurava, was the incarnation of Adharma. He was, as remarked already, Kali himself (Kalipuruṣaḥ). Yudhiṣṭhira engages in the war with the Kauravas because in the position to which he has been reduced by his own folly his dharma suffers diminution, it being impossible for him to fulfil his dharma as a Kṣatriya. That is just the point made out by Bhīma in the course of his long peroration intended to rouse Yudhiṣṭhira to action (3.34.125¹).

svadharmam pratipadyasva jahi śatrūn samāgatān /

"Perform your dharma, the duty pertaining to your own Varna or order and destroy your enemies."

The relative attitude to life of these two antagonistic parties or sodalities is illustrated by a striking episode recounted in the Udyogaparvan. Duryodhana and Arjuna alike desired to secure the sympathy and aid of Śrī Kṛṣṇa. Setting out for Dvārakā, both arrived there on the same day and going to Śrī Kṛṣṇa’s house found him sleeping peacefully. Duryodhana, who arrived there first, thereupon pompously took a sumptuous seat placed near the head of the bed of Śrī Kṛṣṇa, while Arjuna, bowing humbly to the sleeper, stood patiently with joined hands at the foot of the bed. That in itself, it will be noticed, is an extraordinarily significant symbolic tableau, a static representation of the entire incident, a masterpiece of behaviouristic study. And so they wait. When Śrī Kṛṣṇa awoke, his eyes fell first on Arjuna. And how should they not? The friendship between Arjuna and Śrī Kṛṣṇa was such that the eyes of the sleeper were involuntarily drawn to him whom he loved most. Śrī Kṛṣṇa asked them eagerly the reason of this unexpected visit and was told that they had both come to claim his support in the impending war. Such was the calmness of his outlook on life that Śrī Kṛṣṇa readily admitted the claims of both and expressed his intention of helping both sides equally, but in different ways. To one he was going to give his mighty army; the other he would serve in person but — unarmed, he says, leaving the choice to themselves. Arjuna, being the younger of the two was given the first choice, and he chose promptly Śrī Kṛṣṇa, whom he loved above all things on earth; while Duryodhana accepted equally joyfully the powerful army of Śrī Kṛṣṇa, which fell to his share. They chose precisely as Śrī Kṛṣṇa had expected and intended. Clearly Duryodhana did not want Śrī Kṛṣṇa, whom he did not love in the least. He merely wanted large hosts to help him in keeping hold of his ill-gotten possessions. Arjuna on the other hand did not want large hosts so much as he wanted the love and esteem of Bhagavān Śrī Kṛṣṇa, who, he was confident, would bring him not only victory but also fame and glory. He disdained the help of the army, divorced from the adorable Śrī Kṛṣṇa.

The epic poets have quite intentionally placed at the disposal of Yudhiṣṭhira all the physical power that he could wish for to help him in the impending struggle to regain his lost kingdom. His brother Bhīmasena is a veritable giant, with the strength of ten thousand elephants (nāgāyutaprāṇa). The ponderous mace of Bhīma is a terror to his enemies. In personal combat he had killed at different times four notorious giants of those days: Baka, Hidimba, Kirmira and Jatāsura. He had killed in personal combat not only Kīcaka, the lascivious general of the king of Virāṭa, but also the terrible Jarāsandha, who was then preparing to sacrifice to god Śiva one hundred kings whom he had vanquished in battles, captured alive and kept for that purpose close prisoners in a well-guarded dungeon. Yudhiṣṭhira's other brother, Arjuna, is proficient in the use of all the subtle weapons of offence and defence then in use. He has not only been carefully trained from his boyhood by Āchārya Droṇa, but he had so completely mastered the entire science of arms that his preceptor regarded him as his equal and loved him as dearly as he loved his own son. Yudhiṣṭhira's four brothers had between them conquered the whole world and helped Yudhiṣṭhira to celebrate the Rājasūya sacrifice, establishing his right to universal sovereignty. Yudhiṣṭhira had, moreover, powerful allies in Drupada and Virāṭa, who were two puissant kings closely related to him by ties of marriage. Śrī Kṛṣṇa, whom Yudhiṣṭhira recognizes as an Avatāra of Viṣṇu-Nārāyaṇa, had admitted the justice of his cause and was anxious to help him to regain his kingdom. What more could Yudhiṣṭhira desire? Śrī Kṛṣṇa alone could not only destroy the entire Kaurava army but had the power to annihilate with his Sudarśana the whole world, if he so willed.

The Dharmarāja does not however depend upon mere physical strength to give him victory over his enemies, because his is a just cause. And a just cause must succeed in the end. As EMERSON has so pregnantly put it: "There is no defeat except from within. There is really no insurmountable barrier save your inherent weakness of purpose." And this "inherent weakness of purpose" is invariably rooted in Adharma, in unrighteousness. But the inconsolable Draupadi and the impatient Bhīma do not see that. They want to retaliate at once, paying back the enemy in the same coin. Employing in turn persuasive eloquence, sophistical reasoning, biting sarcasm, and even ridicule, they try to rouse Yudhiṣṭhira and induce him to break what they consider an unfair and unholy compact, and to strike at the enemy immediately, before the latter has had time to secure allies and consolidate his position, — which is very sound commonsense.

The argument which develops at this family discussion is illuminating for the standpoint of the epic and its method of instruction in ethical matters. Śrī Kṛṣṇa had tried to console the heavy-hearted Draupadī and promised her that she should again reign as queen as she used to and that the wives of her enemies would weep as she was then weeping. "The heavens might fall," Śrī Kṛṣṇa had sworn, "the Himavat might split, the earth might be rent, or the waters of the ocean might dry up, but my words shall never be in vain, O Kṛṣṇa!" (3.13.117)

pated dyauḥ himavān śriyet pṛthivī śakatībhavet /
śuśyet toyamidhiḥ Kṛṣṇe na me moghāni vaco bhavet //

¹

Yet Draupadī would not be consoled, and we find her soon urging Yudhiṣṭhira to action, beseeching him tearfully not to forget and forgive the wrongs they had suffered at the hands of the evil-minded Kauravas. This hysterical outburst of his queen drew from the exiled monarch an admirable discourse on forgiveness: "If the man who hath ill speeches from another returneth those speeches afterwards; if the injured man returneth his injuries; if the chastised person chastiseth in return; if the fathers slay sons and sons fathers; if husbands slay wives and wives husbands; then, O Kṛṣṇa, how can birth take place in a world where anger thus prevails?" But Draupadī still answered angrily; and, assailing the order of the world, she bitterly declared that God played with his creatures according to his pleasure, as a child makes or destroys capriciously its toys. What was the use of virtue, asks Draupadī, if the virtuous are plunged in suffering, while the wicked were prosperous? Is not that our difficulty also, and the difficulty of every man with good and pious intentions since the beginning of time? Gently but resolutely, Yudhiṣṭhira answered this feminine apostle of violence, praising the well-chosen phrases and the eloquence of the lovely-browed Pāñcāla princess: "Thou speakest, however, the language of atheism, O princess. I never act solicitous of the fruits of my action. I give away, because it is my duty to give. I sacrifice, because it is my duty to sacrifice. I act virtuously not from the desire of reaping the fruits of virtue, but from my desire not to transgress the ordinances of the scriptures, and beholding also the conduct of the good and the wise. My heart, O Kṛṣṇa, is naturally attracted towards virtue. The man who wishes to reap the fruits of virtue is a trader in virtue (dharmavāṇijyaka)." ¹ Nevertheless, it was true that acts did bear fruits, good or bad; and that in the long run, under providence of God, the practice of virtue was naturally and ultimately the source of prosperity and happiness. But the details of providence would be understood only by the wise, by those in whose minds dwelt quiet and peace and holiness. "Therefore," continues Yudhiṣṭhira, "though thou mayst not see the fruits of virtue, thou shouldst not yet doubt religion or the gods. Thou must perform sacrifices with a will, and practise charity without arrogance. Acts in this world do have their fruits, and virtue alone is eternal. Let thy doubts, therefore, O Kṛṣṇa, be dispelled like mist. Reflecting upon all this, let thy scepticism give way to faith. Slander not God, who is the lord of all creatures. Learn to know Him. Bow down to Him. Let not thy mind be such. And, O Kṛṣṇa, never disregard that Supreme Being, through whose grace mortal man by piety acquires immortality" ².

Draupadī still pleaded passionately that it was her husband's duty to regain his kingdom of which he had been robbed by a gang of unprincipled ruffians; and Bhīma angrily chimed in, reproaching Yudhiṣṭhira for their forlorn condition. "Virtue was not enough," argues Bhīma, "kings must show strength and fight. Let us set forth now and do battle and wrest the sovereignty from Duryodhana." In reply Yudhiṣṭhira patiently admits his own fault. He had lost self-control while playing that fateful game of dice, which had brought them to ruin. But

he had given his word to abide by the throw of the dice as to exile, and he would not break it now. Bhīma should have objected then, if at all, Yudhiṣṭhira pertinently points out. Having given the pledge, he would not violate it. "My solemn promise can never be untrue. I regard dharma to be superior to life itself and even to a blessed state of celestial existence. Kingdoms, sons, fame, wealth — all these do not come up even to one sixteenth part of truth."

These few chapters of the Āraṇyakaparvan — or to call it by its name now in common use, the Vanaparvan — contain in the form of an animated controversy the substance of the entire ethical teaching of the epic. Worthy of our special attention is the discourse of Yudhiṣṭhira himself, which represents, as is natural, the "settled doctrine" (siddhānta) of the epic as opposed to the prima facie arguments (pūrvapakṣa) put forward by Draupadī and Bhīma.

In this discourse there is a distinct recognition of God as the dispenser of rewards and punishments, — of a moral governance of the world, and at the end of it reference is made to the inscrutable character of divine dispensations; reverence towards the deity is enjoined, and an intimation is made that it is those who are devoted to him who enjoy his favour and attain immortality. But while the speaker maintains that it is a culpable and even unpardonable sin to entertain any doubt as to the ultimate consequences of righteousness, he expresses a stoical indifference to the attainment of any recompense in his own case, and a lofty scorn of the notion of trafficking in goodness as an instrument for procuring pleasure or happiness, — asserting even that those who seek to extract from virtue all the advantages which it can yield will gain nothing, — and rises to the elevated position of loving moral excellence for its own sake, as a good in itself and as its own reward. I need not point out that this is an elaborate — I might say, an illustrated — commentary on the doctrine of the abandonment of the fruit of action, which in the Gītā is said to be greater than meditation, greater than knowledge, greater than constant practice, for it leads in the end to tranquility (Gītā 12.12):

śreyo hi jñānam abhyāsāj jñānād dhyānam viśiṣyate /
dhyānāt karmaphalat yāgas tyāgāc chāntir anantaram //

Let us, however, return to our story. A few years after the incident narrated above, Arjuna returns from Indra's heaven, having acquired various celestial weapons, including the Pāśupata, a most deadly weapon capable of destroying the whole world, which was obtained by him by propitiating god Śiva. Even this was no inducement to Yudhiṣṭhira to break his vow, to shorten perforce the period of the exile and win back his lost kingdom. Yudhiṣṭhira would never sacrifice Dharma, even if he could get thereby the kingdom of the whole earth (B.2.67.48):

tjeta sarvām Pṛthivīm samyaddhām
Yudhiṣṭhro dharmam atho na jahyāt /

Arjuna is likewise shown to be steadfast in the practice of Dharma, as is exemplified by an incident that occurred earlier during the exile of the Pāṇḍavas. When Śrī Kṛṣṇa came to visit the exiled Pāṇḍavas and was told the sorry tale of the dice play and its sequel, he became furiously angry and threatened to soak the earth with the blood of Duryodhana and his three close associates, Karṇa, Śakuni and Duhṣāsana (3.13.5):

Duryodhanasya Karnasya Śakuneś ca durātmanaḥ /
Duhṣāsanacaturthānām bhūmiḥ pāsyati śonitam //

Having done that he proposed next to crown Yudhiṣṭhira king (3.13, 6a):

tataḥ sarve 'bhīṣīñcāmo Dharmarājani Yudhiṣṭhiram /

The Avatāra is ex hypothesi omnipotent and his will is irresistible; and Śrī Kṛṣṇa was recognized as such by Pāṇḍavas. Even Draupadī, who was the most hardheaded of the lot, honours him as a cosmic incarnation:

Viṣṇus tvam asi durdharṣa tvam yajño Madhusūdana /
yaśtā tvam asi yaṣṭavyo jāmadagniyo yathābravīt /
divam te sirasā vyāptam padbhyām ca pṛthivī vibho /
jatharam ta ime lokāḥ puruṣo 'si sanātanaḥ /
sa te 'ham duḥkham akhyāse praṇayān Madhusūdana /
īśas tvam sarvabhūtānām ye divyā ye ca mānuṣāḥ /

There can, therefore, be no doubt that whatever we think of him — and we must keep our sentiments and judgements quite aloof—Śrī Kṛṣṇa was regarded by the Pāṇḍavas as God incarnate, who was fully capable of doing any thing at will. But that also was no temptation to Yudhiṣṭhira to invoke divine aid for undoing the mischief that had been done through his own folly, to break the solemn agreement entered into with the Kauravas, in other words, to transgress ethical bonds. On this occasion, Arjuna, Śrī Kṛṣṇa's bosom friend, his alter ego, pacifies Śrī Kṛṣṇa. Seeing his friend angry, Arjuna began to relate the terrible austerities Śrī Kṛṣṇa had practised and the feats of heroism he had performed, in previous births. Then the Eternal One of infinite energy, the Lord of the Prajāpatis, the unchallenged Ruler of the worlds, recollecting his entire life, extending through many millennia, was pacified, and he regained his accustomed composure. Nothing can be achieved before its time. The law of least interval prevails throughout the universe. In other words, Nature goes about her business in the quickest possible way, and time cannot be shortened by human endeavours, least of all by human impatience. He is a wise man who attempts no short cuts.

A similar situation arises during the course of the Bhārata War, which is even more significant. On the ninth day of the war, after much fighting of a desperate character on both sides, Bhīṣma, egged on by Duryodhana, routs the Pāṇḍava army and demoralizes the Pāṇḍavas. A deadly combat is imminent between Arjuna and Bhīṣma, and Śrī Kṛṣṇa feels that Arjuna is sparing the Grandsire and fighting shy of facing him. Like the consummate artist that he is, Śrī Kṛṣṇa, beguiled, fascinated — if only for a brief instant — by his own Māyā, indulges in a gesture, threatening to slay Bhīṣma by his divine powers. Bhīṣma, imagining that the moment of his deliverance had arrived sooner than he expected, was transported with delight. What better fate could he wish for — "Come, come, O lotus-eyed god of gods," exclaimed Bhīṣma, "my homage to thee! Strike me down today in this great battle, O most noble of the Sātvata clan" (B. 6. 106. 64 f) : ehey ehi pundarīkākṣa devadeva namo 'stu te /
mām adya Sātvataśreṣṭha pāṭavyasva mahāhave / But it was not to be so. Arjuna, thoroughly alarmed by this unaccustomed gesture of impatience on the part of the Bhagavān, ran after him and seizing his feet begged him to return. He reminded Śrī Kṛṣṇa of the vow taken by him not to hold a weapon in his hands during the course of the war of the Bhāratas. A promise solemnly given must be kept at all costs. The use of force is of course indispensable, but force alone cannot bring victory, final victory. Things must take their own course. The Dharmarāja does not desire happiness of wealth at the price of unrighteousness (B. 2. 59. 13) :

nikrtyā kāmaye nāham sukhāny uta dhanāni ca /

That was no time for discussion. Therefore without uttering a word Śrī Kṛṣṇa, still seeming angry, remounted the chariot and took up the reins. Dharma, the inviolable moral law, was maintained intact, notwithstanding the great provocation and the temptation to fling to the winds truth, honour, and justice.

Yudhiṣṭhira's life is a categorical insistence on the paramountcy of moral rectitude and a fixed belief in the conservation of values. The Yudhiṣṭhira-ideal is thrown into sharp relief by the epic poets with the help of the contrasted character of his antagonist, Duryodhana.) Envy, jealousy and covetousness, maliciousness, duplicity and hate are the elements of his character. Wild demonic passion glows in Duryodhana, which never allows him any peace. At heart sharp as a razor, in speech he was sweet as ambrosia, and feigned the affection of a protector and friend.

sa vācāmṛtakalpās ca bhartṛvac ca suhṛd yathā /

(B. 1.128.46)

The epic poets show us Dharma and Adharma in action, as it were, in the lives of the cousins. After the Pāndavas come to Hāstinapura, all goes well for a time. Seeds of discord are sown by the thoughtless and boisterous Bhīma. He would knock his cousins down, seize them by the hair or their heels and drag them gleefully along the ground. Or he would hold a dozen of them at a time under water till they were nearly suffocated. On another occasion he would shake the tree on which some of his playmates had climbed to pluck the fruits in the orchard and down would come the fruits and the fruit-gatherers at the same time. One is apt to imagine that in this way the burly and blustering Pāṇḍava was responsible for the discord which was beginning to raise its head. The poet seems to expect this verdict, and therefore adds that he was acting "in childishness and not with malice intent" (bālyān na drohacetasa).

Duryodhana behaves in a markedly different way. The demonic jealousy gets the upper hand in him, and jealousy is the breeding ground of almost all other passions. But he keeps the demon in him well concealed. Duryodhana first plots to get rid of Bhīma in a surreptitious way. He causes a pavilion to be built on the banks of the Ganges, and invites the Pāṇḍavas to a picnic. There he feeds Bhīma with poisoned sweets and watches calmly the result. Contrary to his expectations, Bhīma does not die. He is only stupefied by the effect of the virulent poison. Seeing him in that state, the agents of Duryodhana bind the unconscious Bhīma hand and foot and throw him into the torrent. Bhīma sinks down like a lump of lead till he reaches the kingdom of the Nāgas, who rescue him and eventually help him to return home, but not before they had made him drink some nectar, which made him yet stronger. Foiled in this attempt, Duryodhana next makes the desparate attempt to burn the Pāṇḍavas alive by sending them to a distant village of their kingdom where a house of lac had been prepared for them. It is set on fire in the dead of night by Duryodhana's accomplices, but the Pāṇḍavas make good their escape by a subterranean passage which they had taken care to dig at the instance of Vidura. The Pāṇḍavas thereafter live independently, carving out a kingdom for themselves, which again rouses the jealousy of the Kauravas. With the help of the sinister Śakuni, Duryodhana now plots to cheat Yudhiṣṭhira of his wealth in a game of dice, and succeeds at last in sending Yudhiṣṭhira and his brothers along with Draupadī into exile.

The conflict between Dharma and Adharma is the everlasting conflict between the powers of Light and Darkness, between Right and Wrong. Though evil is allowed to flourish, even to dominate, for a time, the epic wants to point out, its reign is short, because it carries within itself the seeds of its own destruction. With our limited intelligence, we must fail to comprehend the wisdom of allowing Untruth, Injustice, Evil to flourish at all, but we are assured that Goodness always shall triumph in the end (yato dharmas tato jayah). For, whensoever Dharma declines and Adharma uprises, the Bhagavān creates himself to guard the good and to destroy the wicked; to establish the Dharma firmly, he comes into being again and again (Gītā 4. 7-8).

Yadā yadā hi dharmasya glānir bhavati Bhārata /
abhyutthānam adharmasya tadātmānam sṛjāmy aham //
paritrāṇāya sādhūnām vināśaya ca duṣkṛtām /
dharmasaṃsthāpanārthāya sambhavāmi yuge yuge //

There must be very few people indeed in this workaday world who attach no value to Victory. Indeed, the vast majority of people is struggling frantically and doing the utmost in their power to achieve victory,—victory of their own people, of their own side, of their own plans, projects, ideas or interests. If now victory in final analysis is on the side of Dharma, it becomes of capital interest and importance to know what Dharma is. What is Dharma?

Various attempts have been made to bring the Indian conception of Dharma within the four corners of a logical definition. Some Mīmāṃsā writers have defined Dharma as "any matter enjoined by the Veda with a view to attaining any useful purpose (vedena prayojanam uddiśya vidhīyamāno 'rtho dharmaḥ, Mīmāṃsānyāyaprakāśa 3), such as for instance sacrifices and the like. The word is used sometimes to denote something which has its origin in orthodox traditional custom (ācāraprabhavo dharmaḥ). Manusmṛti in fact lays down at one place that ācāra is the highest Dharma (ācāraḥ paramo dharmaḥ 1.108). At another place, the same code has given a more elaborate definition, which widens the scope of Dharma (Manu 2. 12):

vedah smṛtiḥ sadācāraḥ svāsya ca priyam ātmanah /
etac caturvidhaṁ prāhuḥ śākṣād dharmasya lakṣaṇam //

"The Veda, the sacred tradition, the customs of virtuous men, and one's own pleasure, they declare to be visibly the fourfold means of defining Dharma."

If we analyse all the various ideas which have accumulated in the course of centuries round the word Dharma, we shall find at the very bottom a "belief in the conservation of moral values", which has been proposed by Harold HOEFFLING as the definition of religion. Dharma in other words presupposes an eternal moral order which is based on cosmic archetypal ideation, which persists immutably and which is utterly independent of and indifferent to merely human preferences, conveniences or manipulations.

Though this may serve as a theoretic formulation of the concept, the question demands more comprehensive analysis and exposition for illuminating its various phases and aspects. Gualtherus H. Mees, who has analysed the conception in his book, Dharma and Society (p. 8) has shown that Dharma signifies any or all of the following concepts: Vedic Rta; that which is normally proper, the ethical duty, virtue; the ideal; God and Absolute Truth; a universal law or principle; divine justice; convention or a code of customs and traditions; common law or law in general; etc., etc. And accordingly MM. P. V. Kane, in his History of Dharmasastra has defined Dharma as "a mode of life or a code of conduct, which regulated a man's work and activities as a member of society and as an individual to bring about the gradual development of a man and to enable him to reach what was deemed to be the goal of human existence."

But the most comprehensive definition of Dharma, to my knowledge, has been given by Dr. Bhagavan DAS, the philosopher-sociologist of Benares, who has analyzed this very characteristic Indian concept as follows: "That which holds a thing together, makes it what it is, prevents it from breaking up and changing into something else, its characteristic function, its peculiar property, its fundamental attribute, its essential nature,—is its dharma, the law of its being primarily. That which makes the world-process what it is and holds all its parts together as One Whole, in a breakless all-binding chain of causes-and-effects, is the Law (or totality of laws) of Nature or Nature's God, dharma in the largest sense, the world order .... That scheme or code of laws which bind together human beings in the bonds of mutual rights-and-duties, of causes-and-consequences of actions arising out of their temperamental characters, in relation to each other and thus maintains society, is human law, mānava-dharma. Yet again, the code of life based on Veda (all-science of the laws of nature in all her departments), the due observance of which leads to happiness here and hereafter is Dharma. Briefly Dharma is characteristic property, scientifically; duty, morally and legally; religion with all its proper implications, psychologically and spiritually; and righteousness and law generally; but Duty above all" -- The Science of Social Organization, 2nd edition, Vol. 1, pp. 49-50.

Now I am not going to make the attempt to give you another perfect definition of Dharma, a task which, as you see, has taxed better brains than mine. In reply to a question by Yudhiṣṭhira, Pitāmaha Bhīṣma, after explaining the difficulties in the way of defining it, gave some rules by which Dharma may partly be known, which I have found to be the simplest and at the same time the most profound exposition of the subject, if understood rightly. Dharma, says Bhīṣma, was ordained for the advancement and growth of all creatures; therefore that which leads to advancement and growth is Dharma. Dharma was ordained for restricting creatures from injuring one another; therefore that which prevents injury to creatures is Dharma. Dharma is so called because it upholds all creatures; therefore that is Dharma which is capable of upholding all creatures.

Now, I have no ambition to improve upon these definitions. For, from the definitions of Dharma already given, you will have realized that a person who does not know from other sources what Dharma and Adharma are, is not likely to be any the wiser for these definitions. Admirable as all these definitions are, each in its own way, they will hardly help any person—even the wisest amongst us—to decide in a given case what is Dharma and what is Adharma. In fact, these definitions are scarcely likely to satisfy any one except a philosopher or a moralist interested in building up or propping up some particular system of philosophy or ethics.

For, when we say that victory is on the side of Dharma, we mean Dharma in a very concrete sense, answering in every case the question what is right and what is wrong, what is good and what is evil, in the innumerable situations which arise apparently of themselves and confront every person spontaneously in his individual life. Thus when we come to grips with the subject, we realize that Dharma is not simple and unitary, but manifold and complex. There are thus, for instance, rājadharma and prajādharma, jñātidharma and kuladharma, varṇāśrama-dharma, dānadharma, āpaddharma and mokṣadharma, stridharma and so on and so forth. They must all be known accurately, if one is to act rightly, that is, according to the dictates of Dharma in all the various situations in life, smooth and rough, pleasant and unpleasant, normal and abnormal.

What I mean is this. The definitions given above will hardly enable an ordinarily gifted person to answer, for instance, such questions of Dharma as the following. Could Bhīṣma obtain salvation when he had renounced marriage and consequently lived and died childless? Would Yudhiṣṭhira have been justified in denouncing the pact with the Kauravas and falling upon them unawares in order to regain his kingdom, knowing as he did full well that he had been the guileless victim of a deliberate plot to rob him of his riches? Were Bhīṣma and Droṇa justified in aiding the unrighteous Kauravas and fighting for them, against their better judgement, against the dictates of their conscience? Did Arjuna behave justly in killing Bhīṣma and Droṇa, one an elderly kinsman and a righteous soul, the other his own preceptor, both having undoubted claims on his homage, his respect, and even his love? Was Draupadī truly lost when she was staked by Yudhiṣṭhira in that fateful game of dice, and did she really become the slave of the Kauravas, as they claimed?

To be able to give an authoritative and convincing answer to questions like those propounded above, one must be fully informed on such topics as these: the constitution of the several classes (varṇas) and stages (āsramas) forming ancient Indian society, their privileges, obligations and responsibilities; the theory and the practice of the marital rite (vivāha) and all matters connected therewith; the duties of the householder (grhastha), rites to be performed for the deceased (śrāddha); the rights and duties of a woman (strī-dharma); results of evil deeds in past lives (karmavipāka); the fate of the childless; sin and expiation (prāyaścitta); and so on and so forth. The last one of the questions mentioned above, namely, about the status of Draupadī after the dice game, was from the point of view of the Indian Dharma-śāstra, so difficult that even Bhiṣma, the recognized authority on the subject, when pointedly challenged by Draupadī, confessed in the open assembly his inability to decide the issue. It was a real dilemma, an insoluble problem:

na dharmasaukṣmyāt subhage vivektum/
śaknomi te praśnam imam yathāvat // (2.60.40 ab)

Our epic poets are in fact never tired of reminding us that Dharma is subtle (sūkṣmo hi bhagavān dharmaḥ), because its essence is concealed in a dark cavern (dharmasya tattvam nihitam guhāyām).

The most complete and detailed information on these and allied matters is, however, necessary, if one is to act so as not to infringe the provisions of the Aryan Dharma and if he is to lead from its view-point a blameless life, as indeed he must do if he desires victory—lasting victory, final victory, and that too not only on the field of the ordinary battle but in the battle of life. This knowledge is thus of paramount importance to one who wants to secure bliss in this life and in the next, in other words, to every one who is on the quest of the ideal life.

It may be thought that the proper field for this kind of varied and specialized knowledge is obviously the body of technical treatises on the subject of Dharmaśāstra; and we have accordingly quite a large number of very elaborate treatises which are exclusively devoted to the exposition of Dharma, works like the Drama Sūtras of Āpastamba and Baudhāyana, the Smṛtis of Yājñavalkya, Manu and Br̥haspati, Smṛtikaustubha and others. These excellent treatises are, however, as is common knowledge, far from being very popular works, and with the exception of the Manusmṛti, even their names must be unfamiliar to the average layman. In fact, they form the preserve of learned jurists and doctors of law — like my friend MM. P. V. Kane. — for whom they are undoubtedly suited and probably also intended. They are sealed books to the man in the street, who fails to derive from them instruction in matters which he ought to know and with which he is vitally concerned. It should be remembered that the knowledge of the rules of Dharma is useful not merely to kings, jurists, and administrators. It concerns every one who is interested in regulating his life according to the dictates of Dharma. For, every man should live rightly and must fight for himself the battle of life. And this battle is ceaseless. It is the most insistent and the persistent of all mundane wars, involving universal conscription.

We may look at the question from the standpoint of the Indian conception of the ends or the goals of human existence, which are said to be four: Dharma, Artha, Kāma and Mokṣa. The last is recognized as the supreme beatific end that can be attained in any particular life by the few. There remain thus only three, Dharma, Artha, and Kāma, which are generally considered in our epic as being worthy of the normal endeavours of every single individual. These goals of human existence (puruṣārthas) are arranged in the descending order of values. Thus Kāma, or the satisfaction of sexual, emotional and aesthetic instincts of man stands lowest in the scale of ethical values. It is not condemned by any means, having a place of its own in the scheme of life, being recognized as a powerful motive urging man to action; but it is subordinated to the other two, Dharma and Artha. It must moreover never be antagonistic to Dharma (Gītā 7.11):

dharmāviruddho bhūtānām kāmo 'smi Bharatarṣabha /

Artha must further be sacrificed to Dharma. Says the Mahābhārata: "A wise man has to serve all three. But if all three cannot be attained, he must try to secure Dharma and Artha. And if he has to choose only one from among the three, he must choose Dharma only. A man of middling discipline prefers Artha to the other two. Dharma is however the source of both Artha and Kama."

It will therefore be realized that, according to Indian conceptions, no one can really escape from the imperative need of knowing Dharma in all its aspects. That being granted, how is this vast body of knowledge to be imparted to the man in the street, who has neither the leisure nor the inclination to study the technical treatises on the subject of Dharmaśāstra. A way was found. "No decalogue", it has been well said, "has half the influence on human conduct that is exercised by a single drama or a page of narrative." That is why in our poem the technical formulation of the different aspects of Dharma is invariably accompanied by illustrative apologues and parables, not unlike those which were employed by Gautama Buddha and again after many centuries by Jesus Christ in the course of the sermons and discourses addressed to their followers. These vivid.little stories were intended to exemplify the maxims of right thought and right conduct, and to drive in the moral, imprinting it indelibly on the memory of the listener, making the precept an integral part of him or at least of his thoughts. And there can be no question that they succeeded in a large measure in doing so. The high standard of conduct preached here was characteristic of the people among whom were born Gautama Buddha and Mahāvira Jina, Aśoka and Harṣa, Ramdas and Kabir. That is why it found expression in the epic. And because the epic has broadcast the message, it has in turn moulded Indian character and institutions in a subtle way. The teaching is in part the offspring and in part the parent of that quality which the epic embodies and extols.

This is undoubtedly the explanation of that volume of ethical matter and didactic episodes in the Mahābhārata, the raison d'être of what HOPKINS has called the "pseudo-epic", which has tried the patience and soured the temper of many an analytic critic of our Great Epic, who in order to be rid of matter unintelligible and perhaps also unpalatable to them, have dubbed it as "interpolation". But it is no more "interpolation" than the so-called "epic nucleus", which is inform- ed by the same high didactic and ethical purpose. The nuclear epic theme and the intrusive didactic interlude are just two aspects, in different mediums, of one and the same central idea, quite consciously and deliberately expressed in two different ways.

Regarded from this point of view, the so-called "interpolations" of the Āraṇyaka, Śānti and Anuśāsana parvans will be seen to have a vital function to perform and must be regarded as forming an integral part of the original poem in its received form, which is in fact the only form known to us and of which we can be sure. It will thus be realized that not a single line of the didactic matter is lacking in purpose and in organic connection with the whole.

Four subjects were considered by the Bhārgava redactors of our epic as of special importance and worthy of detailed treatment. They are: (1) the duties of a king, the king being the recognized head of governmental machinery which regulates the socio-political structure; (2) conduct in times of calamity, applicable especially to the first two Varnas of the Indian society, when the ordinary codes of conduct are not applicable; (3) emancipation from liability to rebirth, which is the highest goal of human existence; and finally (4) liberality.

These topics form the subject matter of the great Exhortation, the wonderful exposition of Dharma given by Bhīṣma and reported in the Śānti and the Anuśāsana parvans of the epic. Addressing the dying warrior, Śrī Kṛṣṇa said: "All knowledge, O hero, will expire with thee. It is for this reason that all the princes assembled together have approached thee, to listen to words on duty, on morality. Do thou then speak words of truth, fraught with Dharma and Artha." This great discourse, though divided formally into four parts, Rājadharma, Āpaddharma, Mokṣādharma and Dānadharma, comprises discourses and anecdotes dealing with the most varied topics which are full of deep interest and valuable instruction, emanating as they do from that pillar of Bharata's race, Sāntanu's son, who, as the epic says, had not been guilty of a single transgression in this world.

It may further be observed that these didactic interludes in no way disturb the balance of the poem as may be supposed and as has actually been alleged by some modern critics. For, as Pisani has justly pointed out, they have been skilfully used to fill up what he calls "temporal hiatuses" in the story which are bound to occur in a long and detailed narrative covering the period of four full generations of long-lived men. These passages, it will be noticed, have been massed together in the Āraṇyaka and in the Śānti-Anuśāsana parvans: the former in the period of the twelve-years banishment in the solitude of forests and mountain valleys; the latter in the period intervening between the end of the war and the last great journey of the Pāṇḍavas, which marks the end of the tragic drama. "This distribution," says Pisani, "has not only the scope of not disturbing the course of narration, but also that of helping the reader to pass irrelevant years without striking against too strong a contrast between periods minutely narrated and others rapidly surpassed. In a not different manner Homer introduces often dialogues and episodic matter when he must conceal the flowing of times without noteworthy events." The particular collocation of Smṛti passages has helped to accommodate all the didactic material which the epic poets wanted to put in, without disturbing in the least the architectonic beauty and harmony of the whole. DAHLMANN was therefore perfectly justified in regarding this stupendous work as "Epos" and "Rechtsbuch" in one, a work in which the epic story and the ethical matter are skilfully harmonized and perfectly blended, forming one indivisible organic whole.

Let us review the position and take stock of things before proceeding further. The Mahābhārata passes as the Epic of the Bharatas, recounting the story of a great war which took place in a distant past — which the epic poets think of as the beginning of the Kali Age, the Age of Iron — between descendants of the great Bharata, a king of hoary antiquity. Hence obviously its name, the Bhārata or the Mahābhārata. The story describes with elaborate detail the life history of these descendants of Bhārata, the Kauravas and the Pāṇḍavas, who are the principal actors in this exciting and tragic drama, along with an account of many of their kinsmen and of yet other kings and priests of those times. It not merely describes with meticulous care the society of those times, but also contains descriptions of the varied and wonderful weapons of offence and defence belonging to the combatants. There are detailed accounts of the negotiations between the two contending parties and attempts at reconciliation of the cousins, which is then followed by a graphic narration of their respective preparations for the war. But there is above all a very minute description—occupying four whole books of the epic—of the thrilling battles which took place between the opposing forces in the course of the devastating war which ended in the complete annihilation of eighteen large armies, in a complete overthrow of the wicked usurpers and re-establishment of those innocent princes who had been deceitfully deprived of what was rightfully theirs. The events are narrated with painstaking minuteness and astonishing realism, so that it is not difficult to believe—as is commonly believed by the people of India—that the events had actually taken place, more or less as described, naturally allowing for a certain amount of exaggeration necessary for artistic effect. Criticism has, of course, in some respects, shattered to pieces the orthodox view that the epic represents a contemporary account of the war and contains the ipsissime verba of the actors in that thrilling drama or even of the bards of those times. We have to be content with regarding it as a relatively late product. The poets whose work we have before us are with conscious art depicting a past age, but an idealized past; a past which, as some one has said, never was a present. It is the normal method of high romance: the method of Walter Scott in depicting the ages of chivalry; of Tennyson or Morris in writing about the knights of King Arthur.

This is the prima facie view of the Mahābhārata, as we might say, the story on the mundane or material plane. But when we look deeper into the work, we begin to realize that it would be a mistake to lay all the stress on the martial aspect of the epic. For, it is speaking to us, almost uninterruptedly, in a very audible undertone, of some entirely different matters. Among other things, it speaks to us — as Sir Sarvapalli Radhakrishnan has so aptly expressed it — "of the vast eternal background against which wars are lost or won and kingdoms perish or survive." As we try to grasp the real underlying significance of the poem, we gradually begin to perceive that there is a high ethical purpose informing the poem and we become aware of a new and important perspective on the ethical plane. The poets seem to be describing great events, but in reality they do not for an instant forget that they are occupied with the history of souls depicting the incidence of their experience and knowledge on the external world. This subtle effect is the result of the fact that the war on the mundane plane has been deepened into a cosmic war between the Devas and the Asuras, symbolical of the idealistic conflict between antagonistic principles, the ceaseless opposition between Good and Evil, between Justice and Injustice, between Dharma and Adharma.

The characteristics of these two opposite tendencies are very clearly realized by the epic poets, being described at length in the sixteenth chapter of the Gītā, where they are called the Divine Estate (daivī saṁpat) and the Demonic Estate (āsurī saṁpat). Fearlessness, purity of heart, steadfastness, liberality, self-restraint, uprightness are among the qualities of those that are born to the Divine Estate. The qualities of those, on the other hand, that are born to the Demonic Estate are naturally the opposite of these. They are briefly described in the Gītā as hypocrisy, pride and self-conceit, wrath, insolence and ignorance.

Being thus projected on to a cosmic background, the story of the Bhārata War comes to have a cosmic significance and therefore universal validity. It stands for the conflict of interests between the Aggressor and the unfortunate object of his aggression, between the Tyrant and the subject people over whom he tyrannizes, between the Capitalist and the helpless victim of capitalistic exploitation, between the usurer and the hapless victim of his usury. The perpetually recurrent situations of life with which the Mahābhārata deals are in fact as real and as true today as they were ten thousand years ago. And we are urged by the epic to adopt in relation to them, in turn, as circumstances demand, hopeful fortitude, reasoned restraint, benevolent opposition, but above all contemplative aloofness.

Like a true epic, the Mahābhārata takes us into a region in which nothing happens that is not deeply significant. A dominant, noticeably symbolic purpose presides over the poem, moulds it greatly, and informs it throughout.

Thus on the ethico-psychological plane, from which we are now viewing the work, the epic universe seems to gyrate round the fixed axis of Dharma — justness and rectitude in human conduct and ritual observance, man's whole duty towards his neighbours and towards God. In other words, on this plane, the epic aims at impressing upon the reader or rather the listener the paramountcy of moral values. Mother Kunti's parting words of advice to Yudhiṣṭhira may be taken to be the motto of the Mahābhārata (B. 15.17.21) :

dharme te dhiyatām buddhir manas tu mahad astu ca /

"Let thy reason be fixed on Dharma. Let thy mind be ever great." This, it will be conceded, is a high enough purpose. But the epic rises to yet greater heights.