Early in the Mahabharata, there is an incident that occurs at the ashrama of Guru Dronacharya. He sets up a test for all his students, essentially all the Kuru princes. He has a model of a bird set up on a tree and tests the ability of the students to shoot an arrow at the eye of the bird.

To even be eligible to shoot the arrow, he asks them a set of questions to check their focus on the target. He asks each student what they see, when they have nocked an arrow and drawn the bow. He is checking if they see anything other than the eye of the bird or at least, just the bird. If they say that they see anything else, he tells them that they cannot strike the target and should withdraw.

Eventually of course, only Arjuna succeeds in the test. But what is important here is the response from Yudishtira. He can see everything even while trying to shoot the target, from the bird to the tree, its nest, the leaves and the insects on the tree (the entire ecosystem on the tree) and how he needs to be aware of all that he sees while shooting the arrow, as the action could lead to repercussions that affect these. Guru Drona, while telling him that he will not be able to strike the target with the arrow, is mighty impressed with how complete his vision is, at how he can see everything, in other words, the big picture. This was Yudishtira’s primary ability.

I am not sure if Drona being impressed with Yudishtira seeing everything is part of the original Vyasa Mahabharata or any other version. I have seen this on the Star Plus version of the Mahabharata. I am not sure if they made this up for the series or if it is taken from any original source material either. But the observations of a young Yudishtira is not a fake in any case and suffices for the purposes of this article. The link to the episode where the described event takes place is seen in the notes below¹.

Yudishtira was raised to be a king, as was Duryodhana, simply because they were the oldest kids of their respective fathers. The ability to see every aspect of any situation and thus to gauge the ecosystem, is a fantastic ability for a king, who needs to be able to provide prosperity generating administration to a kingdom, and to see through the reasoning and motivations behind the suggestions of the high council (samiti).

Now, a primary difference between Yudishtira and Duryodhana is that the former is always known for his adherence to Dharma (hence the epithet Dharmaraja or Dharmaraya, raya & raja being synonyms) while is the latter is primarily a great warrior, one of the greatest ever.

The thing with Dharma is that it is not an objective quantity. It is a highly subjective thing. It can be broadly defined, at least with respect to a king, as doing that which is right for the kingdom, or society in general. And this “doing right” has to be towards upholding the natural order that permits life to survive and prosper. This includes rights, duties, laws, righteous conduct and so on.

Here, Yudishtira has what is quite literally, a superpower. From his ability to see everything even when he has to focus on the bird’s eye, it is clear that he always can look at the whole picture. Add to this, his yearning, perhaps due to his upbringing, to achieve the ideals of Dharma with every decision he makes, he really is perfectly suited to be a king.

From the Mahabharata itself, we see several instances where Yudishtira reaches out to other learned people when has a query regarding his actions and morals and their adherence to Dharma. This makes him additionally suited to kingship, because he is open to suggestions when a course of action is not really clear, a hallmark of someone who is not a tyrant.

At the same time, Yudishtira never absolved himself from the consequences of his decisions, because he was the one who always took responsibility for it, irrespective of who suggested the course of action, and how justified the ends were. This is demonstrated from his visit to Bheeshma to ask how to fell him and the lie he uttered to kill Drona during the war.

Yudishtira was the best charioteer among the Kuru princes. He was also the best spearman, and perhaps a good player of dice (what we call pagade in the vernacular). All three of these provide more evidence to his ability to be “mindful” and grasp all information about a situation, completely. Observe each of these 3 traits individually.

Image credit – Amar Chitra Katha Mahabharata – Chapter 5 – Enter Drona

A good charioteer has to be able to navigate the terrain, his vehicle and the horses; an ability to be aware of one’s environment. A spear is a long range weapon, whether used in a formation of soldiers or individually. In both cases, the wielder needs to be aware of one’s surroundings. To use the weapon effectively, awareness is needed of one’s fellow troops so as not to hurt them and of the space available to effectively use the long weapon. Similarly, with a chariot, the comfort and safety (especially in a war) of the person in the chariot is something a charioteer needs to be mindful of apart from the other things. This is perhaps why great charioteers are remembered by name (Daruka, Shalya, Matali etc.)

Lastly, consider the game of dice, or pagade. This is not unlike a game of cards. You have no control over the value thrown up by the dice. But you use what is given to do the best you can to try and win the game. In other words, you need to be a fine tactician which hopefully translates to strategy when a king does the same with a kingdom. The fact that these games involve gambling does not take away from the skills needed to succeed.

Yudishtira’s skill with the chariot is not really known because there are other great charioteers in the epic, the greatest being Krishna himself. Plus, he was a king and perhaps did not drive chariots around at much himself. His ability with the spear however, is pretty well known.

Yudishtira’s skill with the dice is a tricky one. His loss twice to Shakuni surely suggests he was not very good at it, and Shakuni even says that he is not very good at it. But there is information contrary to this. During the 13^th year of their exile, when they are to remain hidden from the Kauravas, Yudishtira hides in the court of King Virata of the Matsya kingdom. He takes the identity of a Brahmin named Kanka. The interesting part of this is that he joins Virata’s court as someone who can instruct Virata in the game of dice! He does indeed instruct Virata and is never caught as someone who is poor at it. Does this not mean that he was good at pagade, but just not as good as Shakuni? Or was everyone else at Virata’s court so bad at pagade that they never realized Yudishtira was bad at it as well? Considering that Kshatriyas did indulge in dice, this may perhaps not be the case. Shakini taunts Yudishtira asking him if he is scared to play during their original match. Could this taunt be effective if it was not expected that a Kshatriya participate in dice without any worry? Is it not likely that this was even uttered only because all Kshatriyas used to play pagade often? I opine this is the case. Yudishtira just came up against the greatest player of that age in Shakuni and hence lost. Hence, just as he was upstaged by Krishna as a charioteer, he was no match for Shakuni at dice and hence is considered a bad player, even if he was in fact a good one. Also, perhaps Shakuni had supernatural advantages, or was very good at cheating and getting away with it (maybe he used loaded dice?).

Image credit – Amar Chitra Katha Mahabharata – Chapter 25 – The Pandavas at Virata’s Palace

Image credit – Amar Chitra Katha Mahabharata – Chapter 18- Indraprastha Lost

Yudishtira’s greatest failure is that he gambled his wife away like an asset. He also gambles away his kingdom and his brothers. His losing his brothers is perhaps the lesser of these evils because they were willing participants in the same game of dice. The gambling away of his kingdom and his wife are equally vile. He was sworn to protect and work towards the prosperity of both. This outcome also enhances the belief that Yudishtira was a bad player of the game of dice irrespective of his skills.

Do we also see the Kryptonite to Yudishtira’s superpower in the very same abilities? If he could see everything including the grey areas clearly, did the fact that he could see it all clearly, prevent him at times from doing the right thing? Let us look at the details.

Why exactly did Yudishtira not walk out of the game of dice? Why did he not fight using arms on the spot? Why did he even place his brothers and wife as objects to be gambled away when he had already lost his kingdom? Let us see if we can arrive at reasons to explain this behaviour of his.

Yudishtira had completed the Rajasooya Yajna successfully a short while before the game of dice. This Yagna had been performed with active support and positive participation by the sons of Dhritarashtra and all the elders of Hastinapura. This list included Shakuni. Did their participation make him believe they no longer held ill will towards the Pandavas? And did he believe that this put an end to the saga of the house of Lac from their youth? Perhaps he did.

In order to perform the Rajasooya Yajna, the Pandavas had carried out military ventures in all four directions. During these, they had militarily defeated many other kingdoms and if not, at least collected tributes from all of them. This wealth was used to perform the Yajna. During this time, Hastinapura had not taken the opportunity to cause them trouble or invade Indraprastha. This despite the land on which Indraprastha stood, was originally Khandavaprastha, a part of the kingdom of Hastinapura. The Kauravas had not attempted to reclaim a now prosperous kingdom when its greatest warriors and armies were occupied elsewhere. Could this fact also have bolstered Yudishtira’s belief in a lack of malice on the part of the Kauravas? Also, perhaps after the military success before the Yajna and the victory over Jarasandha, did he feel Indraprastha was as powerful as Hastinapura? Both the beliefs seem valid based on the facts.

Vidura, an extremely wise man, and prime minister of Hastinapura was the messenger who invited Yudishtira and the Pandavas to Hastinapura for the game of dice. He did warn Yudishtira of the plan by Shakuni to win Indraprastha as a wager in a game of dice, instead of using military might to do the same. So, Yudishtira knew of the ill will and the plan to circumvent any equivalence between the two kingdoms in military capabilities. But the invitation was from Dritharashtra, Yudishtira’s uncle and father figure. Plus there were other elders at the Hastinapura court who were capable of reigning in Duryodhana and Shakuni. So, weighed against Vidura’s warning, his recent experience, and faith in the elders could have suggested to him to adhere to Dharma. And this was very important to him as we have seen. His Dharma was to neither reject the invitation to dice and lose face as a coward nor to disrespect the invitation from his father figure and be seen as one who disrespects his elders (the one who gave him half a kingdom in this case, despite the circumstances at that time).

Image credit – Amar Chitra Katha Mahabharata – Chapter 18- Indraprastha Lost

This overall reasoning could have led him to accepting the invitation to Hastinapura and to his participation in the game of dice. Once there, he was conscious of his duties as an adherent of Dharma to hold to his word. Hence, he stayed at the game while losing everything he never had a real right to lose (at least by modern standards), lest he be considered one who fails to stay at the game, as he had given his word to do.

Now, there could be a more mundane explanation for this. At the time of the game of dice, Indraprastha was a young kingdom, which was prosperous due to the Rajasooya Yagna. Jarasandha had been defeated, and his young son Sahadeva (not to be confused with the Pandava brother) was an ally of the Pandavas. But he was only a new king and not renowned like his father. The Matsya kingdom was not an ally of the Pandavas as yet. Manipur, whose princess Arjuna has married and had a son with, was not an actual ally as there were not relations between them and Indraprastha, and Arjuna’s son there was considered an heir to Manipur, not a prince of Indraprastha. Similarly, Arjuna’s other wife among the Nagas had not earned them an ally, as there was no relation between the Nagas and Indraprastha, and Arjuna had only spent a very short time with his Naga wife Uloopi! Also, we do not know how the other kingdoms the Pandavas had confronted militarily (extracted tribute from) during the Yagna felt towards the Indraprashta. Would they not jump at the first chance to throw off the yoke of the new emperor Yudishtira? The Pandavas had saved 84 kings from certain death when they had defeated Jarasandha, but their payback had been limited to supporting the Rajasooya Yajna, not fighting Hastinapura. So, the Pandavas had no allies to rely on immediately, when they were in the heart of Kaurava power. Add to this, the Kauravas had considerable military allies of their own.

But most importantly, all of this was before Arjuna acquired the vast array of divine weapons. That happened when the Pandavas were in exile. Arjuna acquired the Paashupatastra from Lord Shiva and a host of other weapons from all the Devas while in Devaloka assisting them in the fight against the Kaalakeyas and the Nivatakavachas. Hence, the Pandavas were not really as powerful as they would later be.

So, if Yudishtira had decided to pull out of the game of dice or decided to fight the forces of Hastinapura without any army of his own at his back in a hall full of Hastinapura forces, would they have survived, let alone prevailed? It certainly is doubtful. This could perhaps be the same reason for which they did not fight back right after the events of the House of lac, when they were weaker still, with not even Panchala as an ally. Futher, we do not know if Yudishtira had sufficient troops to help him at that point in Hastinapura. Also, if a king loses a kingdom in a wager, is his army still his own or does it now belong to the victor in the game of dice? We have no idea. But considering that even the venerable Bheeshma is uncertain of what Draupadi can expect when Yudishtira is a slave of Duryodhana’s after having lost, such a doubt is warranted regarding the army of Indraprastha as well.

Thus perhaps, Yudishtira did see everything clearly and while becoming vilified down the ages, made the right decisions to survive, while putting faith in the elders of the Hastinapura court. And his faith turned out to be correct! It was the intervention of Vidura and Gandhari that saved them all. The famous elders like Bheeshma, Drona and Kripa failed to protect the Pandavas, but the women saved them. Draupadi’s conduct in the face of the worst atrocity and the strength of character of Gandhari saved the Pandavas their lives, and even got all their losses, including their freedom and kigdom restored to them! So, Yudishtira’s big picture analysis was correct. The women of his household saved them all. It was just that their rescuers were not the individuals everyone expected, a different set of people who no one imagined would be able to do it. But the fact that they, especially Draupadi, went through the worst of atrocities, is by modern standards, unforgivable. Also, it was such a close thing, that this correctness borders on luck and enduring it can be attributed to stupidity. But is the adherence to Dharma not supposed to protect one from adversity? And is it not said that steadfast practice of Dharma incredibly difficult and it is in especially hard times that its practice is really noticeable? These are questions that everyone has to answer for themselves. But the evidence for Yudishtira’s “big picture” ability does hold forth. It was his superpower and his greatest weakness at the same time, for he and the Pandavas went through the worst of times due to the same big picture reasoning of his.

Image credit – Amar Chitra Katha Mahabharata – Chapter 18- Indraprastha Lost

This then raises the next question of why he agreed to the next game of dice. All the points mentioned in relation to the strategic situation of Indraprastha vis-a-vis Hastinapura still hold. But there are differences. He had his kingdom, its wealth, armed forces and ability to plan for a conflict. Also, the fact that the loser of the second game would have to endure an exile of 13 years (12 in the forest and the last in hiding) was established. After this, the kingdom would be returned to the losing side, if they could escape detection in the 13^th year. If they were discovered, the cycle would repeat. So, the Pandavas would be divested of their kingdom and resources if they lost. So, why agree to the game?

There is no clear answer to this. But let us consider a few details. Is it again a case where a Kshatriya once invited to a game of dice cannot decline for fear of being branded a coward? Is this more of a concern for an Emperor than for a king? Yudishtira was considered an emperor after the successful completion of the Rajasooya. So, was this concern great enough to overcome the “once bitten twice shy” learning from the previous game of pagade?

The invitation for the second game was again from Dhritarashtra. We know of the relationship between Yudishtira and his uncle. Was he indebted to him for having been responsible in returning the kingdom after the first game? So, was he obliged to play as a way to repay the favour and show respect to his benefactor? Add to this the fact that this time the game was supposed to be “fair” unlike the last time, when the game was set up for the Pandavas to lose. Was this an opportunity to avenge the defeat from last time in a like manner, an offer that Yudishtira could not refuse? Was he overestimating his ability with pagade to think he could beat a master like Shakuni this time round? Perhaps it was all of these, or maybe not. But without the benefit of hindsight, imagine what would have happened if the Pandavas had won. The Kauravas would be banished to the forest for 12 years. This means a sworn enemy is taken off the board for 12 years during which to strengthen themselves. A tempting proposition, isn’t it!?

Let is now look at the episode of the two games of dice through the lens of Budo. This might reveal some interesting explanations for the same. In the Bujinkan system of martial arts, there are two very important concepts that are drilled into all practitioners from the very beginning, and are revisited all through one’s lifetime in the martial art. These two concepts are Ukemi and Uke Nagashi.

Ukemi is the ability to “receive the ground” when one is thrown or has a fall. It is all about rolls and break-falls in simplistic terms. Uke Nagashi is about receiving an attack by an enemy in different ways. This could be simplistically called parrying an attack. But these concepts go beyond the simplistic physical practice. I remember once being told of a statement by Soke Hatsumi Masaaki made in relation to Ukemi in one of his classes. This statement by Soke said that running away and hiding are also Ukemi. I would posit that if one is protecting oneself from the elements, like saying hiding indoors from the rain or running away from working in the burning summer sun, this is Ukemi. However, I further suggest that running away from a fight or hiding from an enemy would be Uke Nagashi.

So, if Yudishtira chose to survive by not fighting and expecting someone else to save them in the case of the first game of pagade, is it not instinctive Uke Nagashi on his part? Yes, it seems wrong and cowardly in hindsight, but his being mindful and aware of the big picture as we discussed earlier did save their lives and kingdom in the end, which means the Uke Nagashi paid off. Is this not like surrendering against insurmountable odds while waiting for a favourable opportunity to escape?

Now let us consider the second game of dice. Nagato Sensei, one of the senior most teachers in the Bujinkan system has a famous saying, where he states, “Leave no opening”. This is again in reference to Uke Nagashi. Based on my experience of this statement, what he means is that when you receive an attack, your position with reference to the opponent should not only mitigate the attack that was launched, but also ensure that no second attack is possible in that instant as there is no opening for the opponent to exploit. This part is a precursor to the defender being able to negatively affect the attacker due to being a safe position from where to exploit the attacker’s openings which are exposed as a result of the first attack.

Sensei also expands by adding that one needs to lead with Sakkijutsu. Sakkijutsu is the intuitive ability to sense an attack and move to a safe position before the attack lands. This is a continuous process until the attack (not attacker) ceases to exist. So, one should be aware or mindful of one’s situation and hence be able to feel/sense/intuitively know of an attack and move to a position where one is safe from the current and future attacks and then exploit possible openings revealed in the opponent.

If we look at the situation before the second game of dice with this knowledge, things change a little. If a king has to “leave no openings” while responding to an attack against his kingdom, what does that mean? Does it mean find a safe position for himself and his family or a safe situation for his kingdom? I would suggest that it is the latter, considering that Yudishtira was Dharmaraya, who put his duty to his kingdom first.

If Yudishtira’s objective is to protect his kingdom, is it not correct to accept the invitation to dice again? If he has won the same, his greatest enemy would be out of the picture for 13 years with no cost to his armed forces and no economic cost to Indraprashta. If he lost, the negative consequences were only for the royal family of the Pandavas. The Pandavas had reaped the greatest rewards from the establishment of Indraprastha. So is it not only right that they be ready to bear the greatest cost? Perhaps yes.

Next, there is no evidence that Duryodhana was a bad ruler or a tyrant who harmed the citizens of his kingdom. He had many negative qualities, but not as a bad administrator. We will consider the negatives in Duryodhana later in this article. But considering Indraprastha would not be significantly worse off under Duryodhana, if the Pandavas lost the game of pagade, is that not a better Uke Nagashi a king should consider for the sake of his kingdom? If Yudishtira had not accepted the invitation and a war had started right then, the cost to Indraprasta would be much greater.

Also consider this. If the Pandavas were exiled for 13 years, they would have 12 years to increase their strength, plan the defeat of their cousins and retrieve their kingdom, while causing least harm to their citizens. In hindsight, only a part of this happened. Indraprastha was saved at that time, but after 13 years, the Kurukshetra war that ensued was apocalyptic. The rejuvenation of Hastinapura and Indraprastha took the investments of an Ashwamedha Yajna after the war. But without the benefit of hindsight, was Yudishtira not employing his powers of being mindful and seeing the big picture to the best possible use of Indraprastha, even if not the Pandavas? It might have seemed so at the time. The fact that Yudishtira faced up to the consequences of the Kurukshetra war much later is also testament to his being willing to live with his failures and face the consequences.

Consider this; is this whole idea of protecting people until he was able to confidently fight back militarily not similar to retreating in the face of a greater enemy until one finds favourable terrain and weather to harm the enemy with minimal cost to one’s own forces? Is this not something that Wellesley used against Napoleon at Waterloo and was this not the same tactic that resulted in the defeat of Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna of Mexico at the hands of Sam Houston of the Republic of Texas? It is not the same tactic in a battle, but it does seem a similar strategy when applied to nations a whole. So, Yudishtira might have failed in his strategy (if it was that) when he accepted the invitation to the second game of dice, but based on his abilities, it might not have seemed a set result at that time.

While discussing the actions of Yudishtira, there is one aspect that we need to consider. This is more generic, with respect to the actions of all the heroes of the Mahabharatha and all their failings. This is not central to this article and not something we can go into in great detail. But it has to be acknowledged to get an idea about their perspectives, to the extent possible. This relates to the conditioning of people in positions of power during the Mahabharata age. Let us begin with Yudishtira himself.

Was Yudishtira not aware of something called “Aapat Dharma”? The rules (or lack thereof) that come into picture when one’s life and means to survival are threatened. This would have allowed him to not participate in at least the second game of dice. From the little that I know, “Aapat Dharma” or “Aapadharma” suggests that what is “Dharma” or “what is the correct thing to do” changes from when there is no threat to life and means of livelihood to when one is desperately trying to stay alive or save one’s family and means of livelihood.

When things are not life threatening, one needs to follow rules one accepts as Dharma more stringently. When one is under threat, these can be done away with, until “normalcy” is restored. Of course, definitions of “normalcy”, “threat to life” and even “Dharma” itself are subjective and change over time and geography and also with life experiences. It is just that there are some regular practices can be let go of when there is a dire situation. As an example, one might choose to be a vegetarian in one’s own civilized state/place of existence. When this civilized state is taken away, the choice can change with no guilt attached to the same. If one is stuck in a place where there is no opportunity to find vegetarian food, for a duration beyond what one can manage with less or no food, there need be no guilt associated with consuming meat. The same goes if a meat can cure one of a terminal disease.

Was the situation the Pandavas faced during the first game of dice and while reacting to the invitation to the second one not worthy of being considered commensurate with violating Dharma and invoking the escape clause of “Aapat Dharma”? At least from our modern perspective, it would seem that the answer is a resounding YES. The fact that Yudishtira did not and none of the other Pandavas did, suggests that either the situation was not “dire enough” for them to consider putting in abeyance their personal definitions of Dharma. Or, the consequences of the loss of reputation one faced by taking recourse to “Aapat Dharma” was too much to even contemplate the same.

Consider this same situation with a few other venerable characters from the Mahabharata. Bheeshma refused to break his vow of celibacy when he knew he was the best candidate to take over the throne after his half-brothers were dead without any progeny. This was despite his step mother, Satyavati, herself asking him to do so. And Satyavati was the reason for his taking the oath in the first place!

Drona fought for Hastinapura as they helped him earn half the kingdom of Panchaala. Even before this they gave him a job when he was down on his fortunes. Kripa, Drona’s brother-in-law, stuck to Hastinapura’s side in the Kurukshetra was, due to loyalty. Neither Kripa nor Drona was bound by any oath.

Lastly, Karna stuck with Duryodhana because he had stood by him when he was insulted in the demonstration arena by the Pandavas. Even after he was told that he was the eldest Pandava in secret, and this meant he could end the war before it started did not convince him to change sides. He fought the war and died without ever revealing this fact to those who mattered in the war. Also consider another event with Karna. He was known to donate anything anyone asked for after his morning Sandhyavandana. The fact that he never refused anyone at this time was very important to his reputation and he was called “Daanashoora” Karna due to his generous nature. Indra, the king of the Devas, used this firm and predictable behaviour of Karna’s to ask him for the Kavacha (armour) and Kundala (ear rings). The Kavacha and Kundala of Karna’s were divine in origin, coming from Surya, the Sun God. These made Karna impervious to any weapon. He was undefeatable as long as he possessed these. If he had not given these away, it was very likely that the Pandavas would have lost the Kurukshetra war. Yes, he gave them away as his reputation was more important. Of course, he believed he could turn the war without the same and he also believed the Kauravas would win the war. Hence his being revealed as a Pandava was likely more trouble after the victory. But with the benefit of hindsight – he died, the Kauravas lost and he passed on the chance to stop the Kurukshetra war from happening. A lot of human misery followed.

Kunti, the mother of the Pandavas and Karna, did not reveal the truth of his birth to prevent the war either. She did this as Karna asked her not to. They had another agreement which is not very important for this discussion. Similarly, Krishna knew of this secret as well and chose to not reveal the same. He only urged Kunti and Karna to do so. Of course, Krishna is divine and made choices for which he and his clan paid, through the curse of Gandhari, many years after the great war. His thinking is not something one can attempt to decipher.

There is one common thread in all of this. All these folk are terrified of breaking an oath, or a decision, once taken, even if their choice serves something terrible about to transpire. This is because they were all obsessed with their legacies. Their reputation was more important that the consequences to millions of other common folk because of their choices. This issue is seen in Greek mythology as well, where Achilles decided to participate in the Trojan war to build his legacy and fame despite being certain that he would meet his doom there.

This is an aspect Krishna demonstrates as not really Dharmic. One needs to learn to accept vilification if that serves the greater good. He chose to be called “Ranchod”, one who runs away from a battlefield, in order to defeat Kaala Yavana. He also chose to leave his city of Mathura and relocate with the entire populace to Dwaraka. This was to protect his people from Jarasandha’s wrath. He also chose to accept the curse from Gandhari as punishment for not preventing the war. He definitely tried to make people change their thoughts and ways, but did not use his divine abilities to do so. This is apparently to let things take their course with just human actions.

In the Bujinkan, we are taught a concept called “Jokin Hansha”. This refers to “weakness due to a conditioned response”. As an example, consider the fact that we do not do something even in if we realize it to be the right thing to do. This is likely because we “think twice” and decide it is wrong as it goes against what we are expected to do or is tradition (or something similar). This could lead to an adverse outcome. This is the consequence of “Jokin Hansha”. Consider a simplistic example. You do not want to shake hands with someone. Yet if that person extends a hand, we take it. We do not do a “Namaskaara” because we assume the other person might be offended. Conditioning is as pervasive as this and Jokin Hansha refers to negative consequences that occur from actions even as simple as this. Breaking conditioning and doing what one wants to in an environment where conditioned responses rule, has consequences we may not be ready to face. This, on a grander scale is what the heroes of the Mahabharta faced and failed at.

Now, we have considered the strengths of Yudishtira, his weaknesses and potential reasons for those. His adherence to Dharma, his consultative vein and abilities are demonstrated. While all this explains his actions before the war, what makes him a better candidate to be a king as compared to Duryodhana? We shall try to explore this in the following section.

As mentioned earlier, while Yudishtira was more of an introspective person focused on the big picture and adherence to Dharma, Duryodhana was primarily a warrior, who also wanted to be king. There is no indication that Duryodhana was a bad administrator. So, where is the difference between the two?

Duryodhana had one advisor in Shakuni. Duhshasana and Karna were more members of his coterie or mutual admiration society. They were not relevant to dissuading him in any action and did not specifically point out his flaws. Shakuni’s advice was driven by a motive to destroy the Kurus from the inside in order to avenge what he saw as injustice to his sister and his kingdom of Gandhara. Moreover, from what I know, Duryodhana never considered any advice that clashed with his own world view, from any of the other elders in Hastinapura. This shows that his perspectives were not as considered as those of Yuishtira’s. They were what he wanted them to be. He also had never seen the world like Yudishtira had on multiple occasions, while living among the common folk in his early childhood and after the events of the house of lac. He had not endured the hardships of the forest like the Pandavas either.

So, Duryodhana’s vision of Dharma was not exactly based on a “big picture” but what he wanted it to be. This made him a potential agent of chaos. Also, his ego prevented the chances of his ever changing his ways. The man held grudges over a long time, and was single minded in trying to achieve his objectives. While being driven towards one’s objectives is an admirable quality, a king might not have this luxury. His drive could be dangerous to those around him and the country as a whole.

Image credit – Amar Chitra Katha Mahabharata – Chapter 18- Indraprastha Lost

It was Duryodhana’s desire to obtain Indraprastha, subjugate and humiliate the Pandavas and not return the kingdom after 13 years that was the root cause of the destruction of a very large number of lives from several kingdoms during the Kurukshetra war. Of course, it can be said that his being laughed at in the magical hall built by Mayasura in Indraprastha was the reason he wanted to take everything away from the Pandavas. But are the cause and effect commensurate? In modern thinking they are not. But, even by the standards of the day, when personal reputation was above all else, was it warranted? Even if we assume it was, his ability to not adapt to the changing scenario of the situation and being unmindful of the consequences was disastrous. This of course was due to his not being consultative. So, he was never a big picture guy, and thus, could never put his kingdom first, and thus never put Dharma first either.

Image credit – Amar Chitra Katha Mahabharata – Chapter 18- Indraprastha Lost

Lastly, Durypdhana had no ability to “let go”. Something we are taught as martial artists is the ability to let go of anything that is not “worth it”. This can be a position, a technique or a concept we are trying to apply to any fight. An example here might be the following. If strength is not working against an opponent, let go of applying the same and try to take her or his balance with a better position. This is true in any conflict management situation. If negotiation is not working in a conflict between nations, they will let that course of action go and consider covert application of force or an overt display of forces to nudge the negotiation back on track. There need be no guilt associated with letting go of a course of action to pursue something else which has a higher probability of ending a conflict. This was something Duryodhana never could do, while Yudishtira did it all the time.

Image credit – Amar Chitra Katha Mahabharata – Chapter 18- Indraprastha Lost

An example that comes to me vividly about this from recent history is as follows. I remember reading an article a long time ago. I think it was in the early part of the 2000s. I think it was in the newspaper, The Hindu, but I could be wrong. It was about the LTTE failing at negotiations with the Lankan government because it was beholden to the past. Apparently some members of the LTTE felt a negotiated settlement would betray their dead and their sacrifice would be shamed by the same.

In conclusion, Duryodhana, while not being a bad administrator, was a potential source for perpetual conflict. Also, his inability to consider contrarian points of view and ego mania made him an obstacle to any positive change. This is what made him an enemy of Dharma, which, in the epic, is all important. Hence a Dharma Yuddha, with Duryodhana as the antagonist. He was not a mustache twirling villain, or a specifically bad king, but a definite threat to Dharma.

Notes:

¹ Mahabharat Ep 42 (watch between the 13 and 16 minute marks)

There is one concept that is oft mentioned in a Budo class over the last few years. This is perhaps since focus on the essence of Muto Dori was started by Hatsumi Sensei, some seven or eight years ago. This is “Jibun no Kesu”. From what I understand, it means “throw yourself away” or “kill yourself” or “drop yourself”.

This obviously refers to dealing with the self in a combat situation. Of course, this also holds true in any conflict management situation. The concept tells anyone involved in combat to let go of one’s self. This is generally taken to refer to one’s ego. But that definition, while absolutely true, might be a bit simplistic.

The ego part is about not letting anything except the situation in the fight affect oneself. Worry about a plan that might not be going as expected, elation at a plan that is working exactly as or better than expected, thoughts about the outcome of the fight, consequences of victory or defeat, thoughts about reputation after the fight, planning for activities as a consequence of a fight; all of these could be attributed to the ego affecting the fight. Thoughts regarding all of these and maybe more, affect how completely a fighter is in the moment in a fight. It reflects on how well, or not, one can respond to and act towards an existing opportunity or threat; it might even affect being able to identify an opportunity or threat.

The other part of “Jibun no kesu”, could be regarding the physical body itself. While there is no real distinction between the body and the ego – they are the same – they can be discussed separately for learning purposes, like two subsystems of a whole. The ego is more the mental / emotional / intellectual / spiritual component which is not tangible. The physical body is tangible and more like the sensor package of a machine while also partially behaving as the mental component when it comes to reflex actions.

All the perceptions in a fight are from the physical body which houses the five (maybe six – intuition) senses. This also includes the feedback from joints, which can perceive the resistance to a fist strike, a sword cut or a spear thrust. This helps calibrate the flow into the next movement and the next and the next. The physical body also determines the possibilities of action and the limitation of what can be done despite available opportunities. Examples of this are strength in a strike, flexibility of joints, reach available to limbs and the like.

“Jibun no kesu” says both the ego and the physical body must be dropped. This is, in my understanding, an opening into the concepts of “not fighting the opponent”, “not doing anything the opponent does not want to do” and the world famous idea of “using the opponent’s strength against him/her”. These are not concepts I will attempt to explore here as such, for “Jibun no kesu” is proving to be a handful by itself. That said, these concepts and “Jibun no kesu” might seem counter intuitive, for if there is no physical body, how is the opponent to be dealt with? Or if there is no ego, is there a need for conflict management at all?

The nature of the contradiction mentioned above is partly the answer as well. If a lack of ego can lead to a lack of conflict, wouldn’t that be great? And if there is no need to deal with an opponent, is there an opponent at all? And thus, is there no conflict either? And if that is the way to deal with a conflict, isn’t that awesome? No effort, but conflict gone! It is like opponent comes to fight a rock, but realizes there is no need to and goes away. Perhaps, one can learn to be a rock for a duration of a conflict and revert to being human? Does this work?

The answer to the above question is twofold. On the mats, while training a martial art, the answer is a yes. It is not something that can be explained or taught. But is something than can be learnt and definitely experienced. The experience is mostly personal, but quite often is sensed by the opponent and fellow trainees around the person experiencing “Jibun no kesu”.

The answer to the question off the mats, in real life, which might involve conflicts not involving a physical fight, is maybe, and many a time, no. This is because, the definition of a conflict, where a conflict begins and ends and who is an opponent are not clear. What is a threat and what is an opportunity are also hazy in outline. And if the conflict is with people one cares about or at least does not wish to actively harm, all of this is magnified manifold.

With this longwinded introduction, let me get into some examples of what I perceive as examples of “Jibun no kesu” from stories (perhaps history) of Hindu culture. This perhaps adds to the answers or leads to interesting and revelatory questions.

All of us Indians have heard of severe Tapasya being performed by several individuals in stories from our Itihaasa and Puranas (Tapasya is sometimes translated as “penance” in English, but this is simplistic in my opinion and hence I shall not use this translation and stick to the original word). The reason for the Tapasya (sometimes called Tapas) is varied, as are the Gods they perform Tapasya towards. Most popularly, individuals perform Tapasya to please either Brahma or Shiva, in order to request boons that will enhance personal abilities of said individual that helps him/her achieve great personal power and glory. Examples of this would be Hiranyakashipu, Ravana, Rakthabeeja, Bhasmasura and other Asuras who wanted personal power enhancement and also revenge.

Hiranyakashipu loses himself in meditation & plants and anthills grow over him

Image credit – “Prahlad” published by Amar Chitra Katha

There are of course several Sages who not only perform yajnas but spend time in meditation and Tapasya (the two could be the same or different, for Tapasya can also be effort towards an objective) to understand the Universe and in turn achieve abilities that can be extraordinary as a consequence. Examples here would be the many great Sages/Rishis can curse commoners (Agastya cursing Nahusha), Devas (Durvasa cursing Indra) and even the Trimurthy (Bhrgu cursing all three of the Trimurthy) to great effect due to their abilities gained as a result of Tapasya, though the purpose of their Tapasya was never to be able to curse or grant boons to great effect. Examples of boons granted by Rishis would include Durvasa granting Kunti the ability to request children from the Devas and Parashara making the stench of fish disappear from Satyavati. Another interesting case here would be Gandhari, who, due to giving up her vision and being a devotee of Shiva, could turn the body of her son Duryodhana impregnable the one time she decided to use her sight, though this was never the purpose of either her sacrifice or her devotion respectively.

Maharishi Agastya curses Nahusha

Image credit – “Nahusha” published by Amar Chitra Katha

The person performing Tapasya, called a Tapasvi, can be a man or a woman and the motivation for Tapasya can also be revenge (Amba gaining the ability to reincarnate to avenge herself against Bheeshma) or simply personal help in a given situation (Satyavati remembering Veda Vyasa or Draupadi praying to Krishna during the game of dice) or consultation to address a problem (Bhima remembering Ghatotkacha to carry Darupadi while on Vanavaasa or Yudishtira remembering Veda Vyasa for help in planning the Ashwamedha Yajna).

Repentance can also be a motivation for Tapasya, like in the case of Pandu giving up the throne for a life in the forest to repent for killing an innocent Rishi or Duryodhana temporarily deciding to do the same when the Pandavas rescue him from Gandharvas. The hardship of life in a forest is the Tapasya in both these cases.

The one common thread in all of these examples of Tapasya is the ability to give up one or many things or let go of things, including “throwing oneself away” or “throwing one’s self away” (I am considering both the same). Let us consider a few examples of how Tapasya shows the extreme means in which “throwing away one’s self” is depicted in Hindu culture.

Tapasvis are usually depicted as being so completely lost in meditation that plants grow over them and anthills develop all over them. They become inanimate objects for all practical purposes. They have thrown away their physical existence, and perhaps their life itself. But they are not dead, for the object of their Tapasya is not lost and this throwing away of one’s self is what eventually brings the Gods they were meditating towards to appear to fulfil their wish. This shows how the objective of the Tapasya is not lost, even though the self might be. This is a classic case of being in the moment. The focus on Tapasya is the act of the moment and the objective is achieved by being in the middle of several moments.

The above example is throwing away of both mind and body, for all discomforts are accepted and endured, hunger is forgotten, breaths per minute are greatly reduced, heartbeats are supposedly also reduced. The body becomes an inanimate object for all practical purposes. This is an extreme example of the “transcendence of nature” gojo (shizen no choetsu). The tapasvi, while still focused on the objective and the point of focus to achieve the objective, has become inanimate. So much so that plants and ants treat her or him as a support structure, just as trees colonize abandoned buildings or anthills can grow over stones. The tapasvi is a stone with an objective, working with a strength of focus that is unimaginable.

There are also more tangible examples of throwing away one’s self, in the form of literally sacrificing body parts as offerings in a yajna (here a yajna should not be translated as a sacrifice but as a transaction, where an offering, which could be a sacrifice, is only a part).

Ravana, in one version of the Ramayana I saw on TV, performs a yajna to invoke Smashana Tara, an all-powerful form of Shakti who lords over funerary sites, to request a boon of protection against all attacks when he goes to face Rama and his army during the final battle. I am not sure which version of the Ramayana this story is from. To appease Tara and gain her audience by having her appear to him, he makes several offerings. All of these fail to appease the Goddess. So he offers his own heads as offerings in the yajna. He has offered nine of his ten heads and the Goddess still does not appear. He then chooses to offer his tenth head, even if that means ending his life, thus resulting in the failure of the yajna and his objective of winning against Rama. Tara appears to Ravana and grants him his desired boon as he is about to sacrifice his last head and thus his life. This is a case where Ravana is prepared to throw away everything, his life, meaning his body, and ego and also his objective itself, which ultimately results in his achieving the objective. That Ravana loses the fight against Rama is due to various other factors. An interesting aside is that this yajna of Ravana’s, is supposedly considered not in accordance with the Vedas. So, he was even prepared to violate his religious principles.

There is a similar tale about Rama as well in one of the versions of the Ramayana (not Valmiki Ramayana). Though this is not considered in violation of the Vedas, perhaps because it did not involving allying with aspects related to death. Rama has to offer 108 lotuses to Goddess Lakshmi to be able to successfully build a bridge to Lanka from the Indian mainland. He has gathered 108 lotuses, but when the offering is made there are only 107 for the Goddess has hidden one as a test of Rama. Rama has to take a call in the spur of the moment to prevent the offering from failing. He recalls that he is called “Kamalanayana” by Sita, which means that he has eyes like a lotus. So he decides to offer his eye as the hundred and eighth lotus. Again, this is a situation where a person with an objective is willing to throw away one’s self to achieve the same. Here again, Goddess Lakshmi stops him as he is about to pluck his own eye out and grants him his wish.

One needs to bear in mind here that in both the above examples the fact that Rama and Ravana were saved at the last minute is known only in hindsight. When they were in the act of making the sacrifice – throwing one’s self away – there was no expectation of salvation, they would have gone ahead with the throwing away of the self anyway.

Consider yet another example of a tangible letting go of one’s self. Gandhari gave up her sense of sight voluntarily for the rest of her life from the time of marriage, with no desire for anything in return. She was also a great devotee of Lord Shiva. Much later in the Mahabharata, she uses the power of her sight once, to look at Duryodhana, and the power of her unused/restrained vision combined with her devotion of Lord Shiva makes Duryodhana’s body impervious to injury. Another instance of her power is seen when she curses Krishna to have to see the destruction of his clan. This curse comes true some 32 years later. This is an instance of letting go of one’s self not for a specific objective, but gaining the ability to achieving something vitally important as a consequence of that letting go, without ever having wanted to!

Image credit – “Mahabharata 2 – Bheeshma’s Vow” published by Amar Chitra Katha

Some more examples that are as profound but mundane at the same time are the situations where parents can summon their extraordinary children from great distances with just a thought when in dire need. Satyavati, when she has lost both her sons and is facing the extinction of the royal line of Hastinapura, wishes for her other son, the great sage Veda Vyasa to appear to help consult with her and proffer solutions to her conundrum. She only has to wish his presence and he appears to help his mother. Similarly, Bhima, when he is on Vanavaasa with his brothers and their wife, only needs to wish for his son Ghatothkacha’s help and he appears to carry them with his companions. This is something that happens when the family was very tired in their travels and badly needed help. These two are instances in which the children could appear at will to help their parents due their own extraordinary abilities. But the examples are profound as the throwing one’s self away here is exemplified by what the parents gave the children in each case, both were cases where the parent had offered themselves up to another person resulting in their births. It is also exemplifying of parents letting themselves (their personal desires, time and resources) go, to raise and give kids a good life. This is mundane because parents all over the world do this all the time, since time immemorial. It is also profound because this is a “throwing away of the self” that is very well acknowledged.

Image credit – “Mahabharata 36 – The Battle at Midnight” published by Amar Chitra Katha

This idea of letting go of one’s self is not limited to just Bharatiya thinking. I quote here an interesting example I found in a book of fiction no less. This example is from the first book (I do not recall the name) of a series called “The Craw Trilogy”*. I never finished reading this book though it was interesting, and the example I am quoting is from very early in the story. The story is set in the Norse world and there is a situation which has to be answered by some spiritual women who are like leaders in the religion of the Norse before they converted to Christianity. These ladies realize that the situation facing them is dire and a new Rune needs to be created. This Rune will have the power to guide them towards a solution to the dire situation. In order to conceive the Rune, the leader of the ladies goes through a set of ordeals that I can only describe as Tapasya.

The leader of the ladies meditates while subjecting herself to extreme physical hardship for several days. I do not recall all the physical challenges, but the last one is where she submerges herself in flowing water with only her head out of water and that through a hole! And at the end of the meditation, the new rune is carved. The key point here is the meditation of the lady, which is no different from Tapasya. The lady has to let go of even the idea of staying alive to come up with a rune. While this is an example from a work of fiction, the fact that it is from a British writer shows that the idea of meditation while throwing away one’s self is not exactly a rare concept in humankind.

In the example from the novel, the tapasya lasts for several days. This allows a look at how long tapasya might have to last to achieve an objective. How long does one have to be able to let go of one’s self to achieve any objective? Or it is to be a practice that one follows all though one’s life? Or is it for the duration of any given conflict. Well, the examples from Hindu culture do not really offer any answers, except showing that the “feeling” of the passage of time is relative.

The tapasya of the Asuras looking for boons that grant supernatural abilities are depicted to take years and years, sometimes even being said to be tens or hundreds of years. But the lifespans of many of these tapasvis is also said to be extremely long. Apart from the Asuras tough, when one considers the great sages, whose life is tapasya, these large numbers are not common. But then, if plants or ants have to consider a human being an inanimate object, at least several days or weeks have to pass. So, just like time seems to flow very fast when one is solving a critical problem but when the same is considered in hindsight all of it would have happened in a short time, the duration of tapasya could be relative. The duration of tapasya would seem very long for the tapasvi, while it would be shorter for an observer on the outside or to the tapasvi himself or herself in hindsight. If one considers all tapasvis to be normal humans with the same frailties, this would make sense, for normal humans are pushed to the edge of life during tapasya and that does not take too long, even though the abilities gained post tapasya would make such a previous life for the tapasvi hard to imagine due to the sheer magnificence of the same person after the abilities granted by the tapasya.

Having discussed the prevalence of “Jibun no kesu” in Hindu civilizational memory, are there examples of what could affect the practice of the same? As everyone who has attempted to apply “Jibun no kesu” would know, the concept is fantastic and sexy, to be able to transcend one’s nature by throwing one’s self away. But difficult to the point of impossibility to apply and even harder to practice, for anything more than a few seconds, or minutes at best.

This same is shown in the stories from Hindu culture as well. Whenever one is performing tapasya, especially Asuras, their opponents, the Devas try to break the tapasya with distractions that satisfy all human senses. The tapasvi is distracted with the choices food and drink, the greatest comforts and an appeal to human lust; when Apasaras are sent to distract and break a tapasvi’s ability to throw away one’s self by bringing them back to their “senses” and the desires of the self.

What is interesting is that these distractions seem to be used mostly against tapasvis who perform tapasya with a focus towards a single objective, like revenge or the gaining of superhuman abilities to achieve power or wealth. They are not seen to be used against sages and especially not against tapasvis who are women. Perhaps because the duration of the tapasya is a lot longer and interspersed with normal life and thus leaves one less vulnerable towards catastrophic tapasya failure. However, it must be said that women tapasvis, at least in my limited knowledge are never vulnerable to distractions and seem to have greater focus. This is seen in the cases of Parvati performing tapasya to win over Shiva to be her husband or Amba performing tapasya to be able to guarantee a reincarnation in a form that ensures revenge against Bheeshma. I cannot recall if Holika (Hiranyakashipu’s sister) or Mahishi (Mahishasura’s wife) encountered distractions from the Devas in their tapasya for the ability to fight their foes. Perhaps it has something to do with female intuition (Ku no ichi factor?) that lends itself better to transcend challenges?

Image credits (L & R) – “Bheeshma” published by Amar Chitra Katha, “Ayyappan” published by Amar Chitra Katha

One question comes up when we speak of the distractions in tapasya and hence in practicing “Jibun no kesu”, or just when we say how it is difficult to practice – to the point of impossibility. Are there any examples of failed tapasya in stories in Hindu culture? I am not aware of any that explicitly do. However, perhaps the story of Sage Vishwamitra’s trails and travails on the path to becoming a Brahmarishi is nothing but a series of examples of failed tapasya, despite its ultimate success.

Vishwamitra first performed tapasya to acquire Divyastras (celestial or divine weaponry). With these, he failed to defeat Vasishta, who was the one person he wanted to show as beneath him. So, this is not a failure of his tapasya but of the goal he set out to achieve as a result of the success of the same. Next, he gave away the abilities he gained from his renewed tapasya, to build a second Swarga (loosely translated as Heaven) for Trishanku, who wanted a Swarga while still mortal.

After this, he performed further tapasya and yet again he had to give away a lot of the abilities gained when he failed to break king Harishchandra (an ancestor of Rama) into giving up his virtues. This is a case where Harishchandra could practice “Jibun no kesu” at all times in his life and therefore overcome the efforts of a Rajarishi (eventually to become a Brahmarishi). This is fascinating story by itself, in examining letting go and throwing one’s self away that cannot be delved into as it is a really long one.

Post this, Vishwamitra again set about performing tapasya on the path to becoming a Brahmarishi. This time his tapasya was successfully disrupted by the Apsara Menaka, with whom he had daughter (Shakuntala, wife of Dushyanta and mother of Bharatha). After these several failures, Vishwamitra did become a Brahmarishi and made peace with Vasishta, whom he came to deeply respect and become a friend of. Their relationship is borne out by the fact that Vasishta is the one who recommends to Dasharatha that he should send Rama and Lakshmana with Vishwamitra when the latter requests the same (Dasharatha was not keen on the same due the youth and inexperience of his sons).

The summary of Vishwamitra’s experience suggests two things. Except with the incident with Menaka, he always was successful in his tapasya on the path to becoming a Brahmarishi. But perhaps his tapasya on the road of life towards the goal of becoming a Brahmarishi, was not. He was unable to let go of his self in that he was trying to outdo Vasistha or deliberately achieve impossible goals against the will of the Universe. His extraordinary abilities did allow him to temporarily do that, but at the cost of the original objective. It was much later and after several attempts that he did become one of the greatest Brahmarishis, when he could give up his need for outdoing Vasishta. His real “throwing away of his self” was when he could eliminate is own need to be superior to someone else, and just be a Brahmarishi with his knowledge, experience and abilities.

So, from the above observations, “Jibun no kesu” has been prevalent across times in our country. But why was this the case? How did the practice of “throwing one’s self away” influence anyone other the one doing the throwing away? Some of the effects of the extreme tapasya by tapasvis is depicted in the way nature reacts to the same. Extreme weather events like gale force winds, very heavy rain, extending to earthquakes, volcanoes and even meteor showers are described as being caused by the focused power of the tapasya. The weather events are so incredible and destructive that people and even Devas pray to the God who is the object of the tapasya to please grant the boon of the tapasvi to put an end to the inclement weather. Perhaps the Devas who are responsible for the elements lose control of the same due to the effect of the tapasya and hence would rather the tapasya end and they regain control!

Perhaps because a tapasvi becomes a part of nature like a rock or a tree or ants in a colony as he or she lets go of one’s self, the ability to be one with nature and not apart from it allows the tapasvi to affect it more? Or maybe just by introducing an unexpected element to an ecosystem, like to an inanimate object with an objective (a tapasvi who is practicing “Jibun no kesu”), the whole system is thrown out of whack? Either way, this is what is described in some stories.

In reality, this perhaps works in reverse. In a plain old physical fight or a more complex conflict of the mind, if one can practice “Jibun no kesu”, he or she ceases to exist as an opponent to the other. So, instead of affecting nature, one becomes a part of it, like the aforementioned tree or rock or ants. So, the person fighting has nothing to fight against, just as one would not consider a tree an enemy. This greatly increases the probability of the conflict ending. So, just like tapasya might affect the weather and thus force Devas to force the Gods to grant a wish, here one nullifies a fight by removing the opponent, by removing the self, of the same (if the ego of the fighter or the need to fight is eliminated, why is there a fight!). As the saying goes, it takes at least two to have a fight, there can’t be a fight with just one.

Lastly, we observed that tapasvis might have a specific objective (service to a community, revenge, wealth, power, knowledge etc.) or one’s life itself might be tapasya (which leads to great acts when the time and space call for the same without this act being the objective of the tapasya). In both cases, a tapasvi achieves great things by throwing away one’s self.

Similarly, what could be the objective of practicing “Jibun no kesu” in a real fight or conflict with others. It does seem that the effect of tapasya in the stories and “Jibun no kesu” in reality are inversely proportionate – tapasya causes nature to react, while “Jibun no kesu” allows one to become an indistinguishable part of nature – the objective of “Jibun no kesu” is simple and small in real life. It allows one to survive or perhaps be happy, as the case may be, for another moment, and then another and then another. Hopefully one can survive a conflict for another second, minute, hour, maybe many years and perhaps forever.

* Wolfsangel series by M D Lachlan (Mark Barrowcliffe)

Chakravyuha (Moving spiral formation) carved on the Hoysaleshwara temple wall, Halebidu, Karnataka

Vyuha is generally identified as a formation for battle. This is something most of us learn from our reading of Amar Chitra Katha comics as kids. We all know that the Chakravyuha was deadly from the Kurukshetra war. We have also heard the names of several other vyuha from the same war, Vajra vyuha, Shakata vyuha, Makara vyuha, Krauncha vyuha, Suchi vyuha, Sarvatobhadra vyuha and many others. What we do not know is the specific advantages and disadvantages of each of these and when they are supposed to be used. Was it at the discretion of the senapati, or raja or were other criteria considered? Like geography, the weather, number and quality of troops and equipment at hand? We do not have, or at least I have not heard of any military manual describing these aspects.

What I find mind boggling is how were these vyuha or formations achieved? How much training of troops is needed to get them into that specific formation? How long does it take? What high levels of discipline is needed to hold these vyuha? And can all troops form all vyuha or was there any specialization? For example, the most popular Chakra vyuha was supposed to be a continuously moving spiral. How was the positioning of the troops decided? And who coordinated the movement? How was communication achieved if a vyuha was fraying at some point or if reinforcements were needed at some point in the vyuha? When was the decision made to abandon a given vyuha and how was that communicated? What were the criteria to decide if the vyuha was ready and if it was successful? Was there some analysis post the use of a vyuha to see if could be improved? There are no ready answers to any of these questions that I know of.

Now, there is this concept of Taijutsu that many Japanese Martial Arts use. The different art forms might use different terms for it, but the concept is the same. In modern day parlance, it is translated for simplicity as body movement or prosaically “art of the body”. Tai meaning body and Justsu meaning “Art of”. But I have been told by my teachers that originally Tai meant a unit of troops and all their equipment like armour, weapons, rations and also their horses or beasts of burden if they had any. So, Taijutsu was meant in the past to mean “Art of a Unit” where a unit is a body of troops. I have heard it said that a Tai was generally meant to be a squad of soldiers, a squad being a smaller unit than a platoon. So Taijutsu was all about working as a team with all that they had access to. One can assume that since there was a specific term for this, it was meant for teams to work together efficiently and effectively.

In the modern day when we train traditional martial arts, we do not really use those concepts for professional fighting, but for various other purposes ranging from entertainment to personal development and everything in-between. Hence, when Taijutsu is used in a modern day martial arts class (teaching Japanese martial arts), it means move your body as one (not a unit of troops moving as one, but your body as one). That means, your core moves and your limbs, neck and head move with it, there are no twists and limb movements that are unnecessary (or stand-alone). This is taught to help keep one’s balance, so as to be more effective in any movement that is carried out, be it with or without weapons (traditional weapons in the context of a class). An example of this would be a punch where only the hand moves and the hips are not lowered or the legs are not in the correct position. This punch would be far less effective compared to one executed with correct movement of the legs and hips which make the punch a lot more devastating.

We also know that there are several martial art forms around the world and they were all used effectively at a given time and place. The fact that they were effective generally means that the practitioners of the art form were trained it its use. This means having some form of Taijutsu, irrespective of the term used for the same. And each of these were designed to give the practitioners of the art form an advantage in the purpose for the use of the art (be it in a narrow palace corridor, in a wooded area, on a boat, as a bodyguard, with large field weapons etc).

With this introduction, we can finally move ahead with what I was thinking. 😊

Each school or art form or ryuha has specific tenets relating to Taijutsu. For example, the Takagi Yoshin Ryu, which we were training when these thoughts came to mind, has among its tenets, the following principles.

• Stacking the opponent’s hips
• Using leverage against the opponent’s joints
• Moving in a direction perpendicular to the opponent’s direction
• Moving forward and not backward while facing an opponent

Also, from what I have learnt, the Takagi Yoshin Ryu was developed as a school mainly used by bodyguard. Hence, they disarmed and immobilized opponents as against killing them. Perhaps this was to gather information later or to not spill blood in the presence of one’s lord or any other reason. To disarm and immobilize opponents, the tenets mentioned above were built into their Taijutsu.

From my experience with the training of Takagi Yoshin Ryu, it is designed to use the structure of uke’s body and hence a really skilled and experienced practitioner of this Ryu can fight an opponent without the active use of eyesight. This Ryu is a Jutaijutsu and hence fighting happens in close quarters and thus, one can feel the tensions and hence intentions of the uke and counter the same by reading the uke’s joints and body movement. The right distances to achieve a strike or lock are also determined by this feeling. So, over time, the feeling and flow of the Uke (opponent) becomes the driving force for a practitioner and not just the tenets. The tenets lead to the feeling and vice versa in a virtuous cycle. Now, let us expand the same concept to a Vyuha. Was an experienced Senapati (Commander-in-chief of the army) or Raja (King) able to read an enemy’s battle tactics and his own troops requirements the same way one is supposed to read an opponent in Takagi Yoshin Ryu? This is not easy and requires a lot of training time to express successfully in one-on-one combat. So, how much skill, ability, training and natural affinity for the feeling of a battle and battlefield should a practitioner of Taijutsu at the level of a large body of troops need?! This is a question and a matter of awe at the same time. What kind of training and experience would the development of such abilities involve? Where does one begin (as it clearly happened a lot in the past and still happens today)? How did the evolution of information gathering, and technology influence this practice and its evolution? These are questions I do not have answers to, just points to ponder about.

Padmavyuha (Lotus formation), Shakatavyuha (Cart formation) and Suchivyuha (Needle formation) – 3 merged into one, top image

Notes:

1. The above comic book images are from my personally owned books.
2. The images of the vyuha are representative only, they are not to be considered exact.