Arjuna's Apprehension

The “Karma Siddhanta” of Sri Krishna, delivered to Arjuna on the battlefield of the Mahabharata, offers an inquisitive view of one’s duty amidst the chaos of the world around us.

For instance, just before the onset of war, Arjuna questions the rightfulness of fighting, mindful of the misery and carnage it would bring. In response, Sri Krishna articulates the principles of action: that it is a just cause, and as a warrior, Arjuna must not waver from his obligations, regardless of the consequences. Krishna ultimately persuades Arjuna to act according to his dharma — and the result was death and destruction, though it could be said that Arjuna upheld the duty he was bound to. But at what cost? (I leave it to your discretion to decide.)

Yet the lesson does not end with Krishna’s message alone. Though seemingly rightful, it should not overshadow Arjuna’s doubt, which, in retrospect, appears even more compelling and resonates deeply — both after the carnage of Kurukshetra and in contemporary times.

                    Image generated By Chatgpt

If we see through Krishna’s lens, every person performing their duty could justify any act — claiming it aligns with their notion of dharma, regardless of the suffering it inflicts on others. But if we heed Arjuna’s hesitation, it suggests that consequences ought to be the foremost concern when performing one’s duty.

This dilemma is best reflected in the case of J. Robert Oppenheimer, under whom America developed the ultimate weapon of mass destruction through the Trinity Test on July 16, 1945. His haunting words — “I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds” — and the subsequent bombing of Japan on August 6, 1945, show how neglecting consequences in pursuit of ‘duty’ can lead to unimaginable devastation.

This stands as a stark example of Krishna’s exhortation to act without attachment to outcomes — and the troubled reservations of Arjuna, whose moral dilemma, in hindsight, appears profoundly justified.

Note:- 

The view expressed above are entirely personal and the reader may agree and disagree with the writer's view.

The Choice is Yours!

Inking imagination as hopes are quashed,

Unemployment peaks, jobs are slashed.

Truths are tweaked, lies run unabashed,

Murals of promises—walls now effaced.

Deft rhetoric—the public, misled.

Empty stomach, mind restless,

Toiling fields, the farmer guileless.

Filling coffers with “tax” plus cess,

Fattened on blood, yet “welfare,” he says.

                    Image generated with AI

Thumping chest, rallied uproar,

Parochial streets, gatherings soar.

Country to country, the leader tours,

Yet in crisis—diplomatic failure.

Unsafe borders, internal clamour —

“Your future is secure,” the leader assured.

O future bearers, the choice is yours:

Lies unbridled, or truth that endures?

Peaceful dialogue or chaotic uproar?

Needs contained, or freedom and more?

Hollow promises—or a future secure?

The Song of Resistance…!

The voices of resistance couldn't be stifled,

Chained is body, thoughts not crippled.

Let them be perplexed and puzzled,

For the sound of truth couldn't be muzzled.

From the factories to the fields,

Every word that they preached reveals,

Truths are torn, and lies are stitched;

From sprays of ashes, new lives will come,

The song of resistance will be sung.

                     Image AI generated.

Streets to towns, the villages far flung,

From the masses to the last in the rung.

Every dissenter, perhaps, be hung,

From the core of heart to the tip of tongue,

The song of resistance will be sung!

The hands holding sickles and hoe,

Today in shackles and tied to bow.

Will fight you shoulder and toe,

The seeds of hatred that you sow,

Breezes of revolution will uproot and throw.

Songs of resistance sows' the hope,

The path on which the nation goes.

                                  

       — (Ritesh)

लिखता हूँ !

लिखता हूँ !

तुम पूछते हो कि मैं लिखता क्यों हूँ,

लिखता हूँ क्योंकि मैं बोलना नहीं चाहता,

सोचना चाहता हूँ, डूबना नहीं चाहता,

सर्द हवाएँ अंदर समेटे, गर्माहट को भूलना नहीं चाहता,

लिखता हूँ चूंकि आप मुझे पढ़ सको,

क्योंकि कोई यहाँ सुनना नहीं चाहता |

जड़ से भरा हूँ और जऱ्राह बन सकूँ इसलिये लिखता हूँ,

लिखता हूँ ताकि जज़्बातों के दरिया को सागर बनने से पहले रोक सकूँ, 

लिखता हूँ क्योंकि जानकारियों के इस चक्रवात में अपने दिल को टटोल सकूँ,

लिखता हूँ ताकि बिना किसी के सुने दिल की बोल सकूँ |

लिखता हूँ क्योंकि शब्दों का दायरा सिमट रहा है,

कोई बाग़ में बैठी तितली, तो कोई टूटा तारा कुछ कह रहा है,

संदेशों और ख़तों की ख़ुशबू को कोई बेजान-सा व्हाट्सएप “चट” कर रहा है,

इन सबको भूल न जाने को, और सुनने- सुनाने को मैं लिखता हूँ !

                                                    Image generated with the aid of AI

लिखता हूँ अपने भीतर के डर से रूबरू होने को,

लिखता हूँ अपने अंदर के अज्ञेयवाद से परिचित होने को,

लिखता हूँ असंख्य, अनजाने किरदारों में खोने को,

लिखता हूँ आईने के सामने खड़े उस शख़्स से जवाब तलब करने को,

जो आज भी कल के हसीन ख़्वाब दिखाकर हक़ीक़त से रूबरू कराती है |

लिखता हूँ बुकोव्स्की के उस सवाल का जवाब देने को

जिसमें वो पूछते हैं, "तो तुम लेखक बनना चाहते हो?"

हाँ, मैं लिखता हूँ क्योंकि मैं स्याही बन के फैलना चाहता हूँ

क्योंकि मैं छपना चाहता हूँ, मिटना नहीं चाहता

क्या अब भी तुम ये पूछोगे कि “मैं लिखता क्यों हूँ”? |

Rumbling Rubbles

Beneath the cold rubble, her voice emerged, soft and trembling,

The crowd gathered, hearts heavy, hands trembling.

Clearing the debris, they found her fragile hand,

But her tiny body was trapped, unable to stand.

When they asked her where she came from, she sighed:

"From the lap of my father, to this darkness, I slide.

I was playing with toys, my laughter was bright,

Now fate has chained me to an endless night.

I long for my family, for my dear little Bream,

But pain overwhelms me; I can only scream.

My voice grows weaker; my breath feels tight,

What wrong have I done to deserve this plight?

.            The girl with her little doll bream.

Why am I a pawn in this war of hate?

A child with no part in their cruel debate.

The lessons of love that once shaped my days,

Lie buried with me, lost in the haze.

I don’t know what sin stole my carefree dreams,

Why my world now splits at the seams.

I lie here, whispering, as the darkness swells,

While leaders feast, ignoring the children’s yells.

The sighs of the innocent won’t echo for long,

Heaven sent me, but to this hell I belong.

I close my eyes, my tears run dry,

I fell from the stars, only to say goodbye.

                                                  ……(Ritesh)

Rupamati: The Melody of Love and Tragedy.

The story is traced back to the Malwa Sultanate and its last king, Baz Bahadur, a great patron of the arts, who fell in love with the euphonious voice of a beautiful girl. She would often come to the forest with her friends to sing near the Narmada River. One day, while hunting, Baz Bahadur heard the melodious voice of Rupamati as she sang praises of the Narmada River. Her voice was as enchanting as her beauty. Intrigued, he approached her. Thereafter, they continued to meet for some time in the wilderness, where Rupamati would captivate the surroundings with her voice and beauty. Baaz Bahadur, mesmerized by her singing and appearance, eventually confessed his love for her. Rupamati agreed to marry him but expressed her wish that a palace be built in a location where she could view the Narmada River daily, sing its praises, and see her beloved Baaz Bahadur from that vantage point.

Baz Bahadur promised to fulfill her wish and built her a palace, known as Rewa Kund, located at a distance from his own palace. Soon after, they were married.

       

 

              Photo sourced from Wikipedia 

      Sultan of Malwa,Baz Bahadur and Rupamati .

However, as they say, not every love story is meant to be completed, and tragedy awaited them. The Malwa kingdom had detached itself from Mughal rule during Humayun’s flight from India during Sher Shah Suri’s reign. By 1560, when Akbar ascended the throne, he claimed the territory of Malwa. Adham Khan, the foster brother of Akbar and son of Maham Anga (Akbar's wet nurse), had his evil sights set on both Malwa and its Queen Rani Rupamati. Encouraged by his mother, Adham Khan decided to capture Malwa and secure Rupamati for himself. Akbar, preoccupied with his other campaigns, was unaware of Adham Khan’s intentions.

On March 29, 1561, the Battle of Sarangpur ensued between the mighty Mughal forces led by Adham Khan and Baz Bahadur’s much smaller army. Baz Bahadur, who had spent more time indulging in art and his love for Rupamati than preparing for war, was defeated and fled to Khandesh. Adham Khan, victorious, marched to capture Rani Rupamati. Rather than fall into his hands, Rupamati chose to embrace death and poisoned herself, marking the tragic end of a fairy-tale romance.

                    Battle of Sarangpur, 1560

Adham Khan, however, did not escape his own tragic fate. When Akbar learned of his actions, he marched to Malwa and seized the spoils of Adham Khan. Stripped of his governorship, Adham Khan was replaced by Pir Muhammad. Later, in 1562, when Adham Khan killed Akbar’s favorite general, Ataga Khan, Akbar personally threw Adham Khan from the Agra Fort twice, leading to his death. As for Baz Bahadur, after years of evasion, he eventually surrendered to Akbar, who granted him a mansabdari (rank) of 2,000.