BHAGWAT GITA (NOVAL)

OBSERVING THE ARMIES PART 1

Text ~ 2

As I continued to recount the events unfolding on the sacred battlefield of Kurukshetra, I could sense the growing anxiety in King Dhritarashtra. His earlier inquiry had been laced with the weight of doubt, but now, as I described what transpired, I saw his knuckles whitening as he gripped the arms of his throne.

"O King," I began, my voice steady as I recounted the scene that played out before my inner vision. "After surveying the vast army arranged by the sons of Pandu, your son, King Duryodhana, immediately went to his revered teacher, Dronacharya, and spoke to him."

The tension in Dhritarashtra's posture was unmistakable. He had always known that his sons were not inclined toward the path of righteousness, blinded as they were by their ambition and arrogance. Despite being born into royal lineage, they lacked the moral compass that guided the Pandavas, who were virtuous by nature, their hearts aligned with the will of the divine. Dhritarashtra knew this all too well, yet he had clung to a fragile hope that perhaps, just perhaps, the sacred grounds of Kurukshetra might somehow bend destiny in favor of his lineage.

But as I continued, the reality of the situation became clear. Dhritarashtra's inquiry, while seemingly about the movements of the armies, was driven by a deeper fear—the influence of Kurukshetra, a place revered for its spiritual power. The king feared that this holy ground might sway the outcome, favoring the Pandavas, who were so naturally inclined toward dharma.

I could sense the turmoil within Dhritarashtra. He had been born blind, not only in sight but in spiritual insight as well. This blindness had extended to his sons, who had grown up without the light of righteousness to guide them. The king's heart was heavy with the knowledge that his sons, led by Duryodhana, would never willingly seek peace or understanding with the Pandavas. Yet, he clung to the hope that perhaps the place of pilgrimage might not affect the battle's outcome as he feared.

In an attempt to ease his concerns, I assured the king that his sons were still as resolute as ever. "Your son, Duryodhana," I explained, "was quick to act upon seeing the formidable military formation of the Pandavas. He wasted no time and went directly to Dronacharya, the commander in chief, to inform him of the situation."

Though Duryodhana was the king, the gravity of the moment had forced him to seek counsel from his teacher, recognizing the seriousness of the situation. This act revealed much about Duryodhana's character—his cunning, his ability to strategize, and yet, his underlying fear. The sight of the Pandava army, arranged with such precision and strength, had struck a chord of unease within him, one that even his polished exterior as a politician could not fully conceal.

Duryodhana's fear was palpable, hidden beneath layers of diplomacy and bravado, but it was there nonetheless. He may have been a king, but in that moment, he was also a man who recognized the magnitude of the challenge before him. The Pandavas were not just any enemy—they were brothers, cousins, and more importantly, they were the favored sons of destiny, aligned with the very forces of righteousness that Kurukshetra would amplify.

* Text ~ 3 *

As Duryodhana stood before the revered Dronacharya, his voice dripped with a mix of respect and subtle accusation. The armies were poised, the tension crackling like a storm ready to break, and yet, here was Duryodhana, playing his hand with the finesse of a seasoned diplomat. His gaze swept across the battlefield, taking in the formidable formation arranged by the Pandavas. But his words, sharp as a blade, were aimed directly at his teacher’s heart.

"O my teacher," Duryodhana began, his tone laced with the pretense of reverence, "behold the great army of the sons of Pandu, so expertly arranged by your intelligent disciple, the son of Drupada."