Gita 2.35
Sankhya Yoga
भयाद्रणादुपरतं मंस्यन्ते त्वां महारथाः । येषां च त्वं बहुमतो भूत्वा यास्यसि लाघवम् ॥
bhayād raṇād uparataṁ maṁsyante tvāṁ mahārathāḥ yeṣāṁ ca tvaṁ bahu-mato bhūtvā yāsyasi lāghavam
In essence: The great warriors who honor you today will think you fled from fear—and you will fall from their esteem into insignificance.
A conversation between a seeker and guide to help you feel this verse deeply
Sadhak-Guru Dialogue
Sadhak: "Guru, this seems like Krishna is appealing to peer pressure—'what will the other warriors think?' Is that an appropriate motivation for spiritual teaching?"
Guru: "You are right that this is not the highest teaching. But consider: is Arjuna currently capable of acting from the highest teaching? He has just collapsed in despair, his bow fallen from his hands. Sometimes we must stand before we can run."
Sadhak: "So Krishna is using a lower motivation to get Arjuna moving, trusting that higher understanding will come later?"
Guru: "Exactly. This is skillful teaching—upāya in Sanskrit. You use what works at the present moment. A drowning person cannot be taught philosophy; first you throw them a rope. Arjuna's attachment to warrior esteem is a rope he will grasp. Once on shore, deeper teachings become possible."
Sadhak: "But isn't caring about what 'mahārathās' think just ego? Shouldn't Arjuna be indifferent to their judgment?"
Guru: "Eventually, yes—the Gita will teach equanimity toward praise and blame. But right now, Arjuna is not indifferent; he is deeply invested in this community of warriors. That investment can be used or fought. Fighting it at this moment would leave Arjuna even more paralyzed. Using it moves him toward action, where lessons can be learned."
Sadhak: "The verse says they will think he withdrew 'from fear.' But his real motivation is compassion and confusion, not fear. Isn't the world misjudging him?"
Guru: "This is a profound insight into how reputation works. The world judges actions, not intentions. A complex inner state appears as a simple outer behavior—withdrawal. Observers fill in the simplest explanation. This is not the world being unkind; it is how perception works. We never see others' motives directly; we infer them from behavior, usually incorrectly."
Sadhak: "So the teaching is also about the gap between our inner truth and how we appear to others?"
Guru: "Yes. And this gap can be bridged only by action. If Arjuna wants his compassion understood, he must find a way to act that expresses it clearly. Mere withdrawal will be misread. The challenge is to find action that is both true to inner reality and comprehensible to the world. This is what Krishna is guiding him toward."
Sadhak: "'Lāghavam'—insignificance. Is that really so bad? Many spiritual traditions value being unimportant, unknown, humble."
Guru: "There is chosen insignificance and fallen insignificance. A sage who withdraws from the world to seek truth is not 'lāghava'—their insignificance is willed, meaningful, respected. But a warrior who flees battle becomes insignificant through failure, not choice. The stain is not humility but humiliation. The difference is agency: did you step down, or did you fall?"
Sadhak: "This makes me think about my own life—times when I withdrew from challenges and wondered what people thought of me."
Guru: "That is the personal application. We all have our battlefields—confrontations avoided, truths unspoken, risks untaken. And we carry the suspicion that others noticed, that they interpreted our withdrawal as weakness. Whether or not they actually judge us, we judge ourselves. Krishna's words to Arjuna echo in our own conscience."
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🌅 Daily Practice
Consider who your 'mahārathās' are—the people whose good opinion genuinely matters to you, not from vanity but from shared values and mutual respect. These might be mentors, peers in your field, family members whose judgment you trust. Let their imagined observation of your day guide you toward your best self. Not people-pleasing, but honoring the trust implicit in mutual respect.
When facing a challenging moment where withdrawal seems tempting, visualize your mahārathās watching. Not to perform for them, but to ask: 'Would this action earn their respect or their disappointed understanding that I fell short of what I could be?' Use their internalized presence as a compass pointing toward courage. External witnesses become internal conscience.
Reflect: Where today did I risk 'lāghavam'—falling in the esteem of those I respect? Were there moments of withdrawal that will be remembered as fear? If so, the path is not self-condemnation but recognition: tomorrow offers new choices. Reputation is not fixed in a single day. The mahārathās are still watching, and the story is still being written.