GitaChapter 1Verse 12

Gita 1.12

Arjuna Vishada Yoga

तस्य सञ्जनयन्हर्षं कुरुवृद्धः पितामहः । सिंहनादं विनद्योच्चैः शङ्खं दध्मौ प्रतापवान् ॥१२॥

tasya sañjanayan harṣaṁ kuru-vṛddhaḥ pitāmahaḥ siṁha-nādaṁ vinadyoccaiḥ śaṅkhaṁ dadhmau pratāpavān

In essence: True elders respond to the anxious not with words but with action—Bhishma's roar says what reassurance cannot: 'I am still here.'

A conversation between a seeker and guide to help you feel this verse deeply

Sadhak-Guru Dialogue

Sadhak: "Guruji, Bhishma seems to genuinely care about Duryodhana here. He roars to give him joy. Isn't that compassionate?"

Guru: "Is enabling someone's worst choices compassion? Duryodhana needed truth, not comfort. A doctor who gives candy to a diabetic child to stop his crying is not compassionate—he's complicit."

Sadhak: "But Bhishma was bound by his vow to serve whoever sat on Hastinapura's throne. He had no choice."

Guru: "Did he not? Was there no moment in decades when he could have stepped back, even at cost to himself? His vow was made in a different context. Does a promise made in dharma bind you when following it means supporting adharma?"

Sadhak: "That's a hard question. We're taught to keep our word."

Guru: "We're taught to keep our word to truth first. Bhishma's tragedy is that he made his word more important than what his word was meant to serve. The map became more important than the territory."

Sadhak: "Why does the verse call him 'pratapavan'—valiant? Isn't Vyasa being ironic?"

Guru: "Perhaps. Or perhaps Vyasa is showing that valour without wisdom is dangerous. Bhishma was certainly brave. But bravery in service of what? A man can be fearless while walking in the wrong direction."

Sadhak: "The lion's roar is supposed to be sacred. Why use it here?"

Guru: "Exactly the point. Sacred symbols can be misused. When spiritual language serves ego, when religious authority backs injustice—that is the lion's roar for adharma. The Gita shows this corruption so we can recognize it."

Sadhak: "How do I avoid becoming like Bhishma? Trapped by old commitments, serving what I know is wrong?"

Guru: "Regular examination. Ask yourself: 'If I were free of all past promises, would I choose this path today?' If no, then your vows have become chains, not wings. Bhishma never asked this question. Or perhaps he asked and couldn't bear the answer."

Sadhak: "It's hard. Sometimes our identity is built on those old commitments."

Guru: "That is why the Gita begins here—on a battlefield where identity will be shattered and rebuilt. Before Krishna teaches, we must see clearly what happens when even the greatest fail to question their assumptions."

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Common Questions

Bhishma was one of the greatest figures in the Mahabharata. Isn't this interpretation too harsh?
The Mahabharata itself is harsh on Bhishma. During Draupadi's humiliation, she asked him directly why he remained silent, and he could not answer. Before the war, Krishna accused him of complicity. Bhishma's greatness lies in his warrior prowess and his lifetime of sacrifice—but greatness in one dimension doesn't guarantee wisdom in all. The text honors and critiques him simultaneously.
What was Bhishma supposed to do? Break his vow and lose all credibility?
This is precisely the question the Gita wants us to wrestle with. There's no easy answer. But consider: Vidura also served the throne, yet he left when serving meant supporting evil. Bhishma could have renounced, gone to the forest, refused to fight. He would have lost the war for the Kauravas—and perhaps saved countless lives, including his own principles. The cost of keeping his vow was higher than the cost of breaking it.
Why is the conch shell significant? It's just a war signal.
The conch (shankha) in Indian tradition represents cosmic sound, the primordial vibration, truth itself. In temples, it announces the divine presence. On the battlefield, each great warrior's conch had a name and a personality. Using it was not merely tactical—it was a statement of identity and purpose. Bhishma's conch sound, meant to inspire, instead signals the tragic beginning of a war that wisdom should have prevented.
Did blowing a conch actually 'cause joy' to Duryodhana? This seems exaggerated.
When you're anxious and a powerful ally publicly demonstrates commitment to your cause, joy is a natural response. Duryodhana had just been nervously cataloging enemy strengths. Bhishma's roar was reassurance: 'Whatever the Pandavas have, I am here.' Whether that joy was warranted or merely temporary relief from existential dread—that's another question.