Does life matter?

Oasis

In times when war has once again become a reality, it is but natural for the contemplative mind to get back to the rather fundamental question of when do we believe we are justified in taking a life? While the question may not be an everyday one, the answers that one chooses is based on one’s approach to issues of morality, rules, and perhaps the more complex idea of Dharma. All these concepts are matters of philosophy but they are also implicit in the way we choose to live our lives.

Being ordinary, virtuous, idealistic, cruel, arrogant, compassionate, dogmatic, reciprocal, many are the ways of life. Which one is correct and which not so correct is something all of us confront every day.

The Mahabharata captures this pluralism in the conduct of its ordinary and extraordinary characters. The differences are not just in the behaviour, attitudes and morality of different characters, but also the fascinating changes that time and place bring about in the same person.

The brave hero Arjuna can lose his nerve and refuse to fight. The compassionate, law-abiding Yudishtara can show a hitherto unknown hardness after 13 years of exile. Dhritarashtra, an otherwise wise man, is literally blind in his attachment to his completely unreasonable son. The indomitable Bhishma can be helpless in preventing disaster. Drona’s treatment of Ekalavya is cruel, but his love for his son knows no bounds. Kunti, a devoted mother, abandons her first born. And Gandhari even blindfolds herself to be in sync with her blind husband in what could appear to be a meaningless gesture.

In today’s world, Duryodhana and Karna would be seen as powermongers, yet the epic celebrates their heroism on the battlefield. All the characters are celebrated even as their follies, misdeeds and arrogance are censured.

All this brings us back to the fundamental question of how should one live? Is self-interest the natural instinct? Is idealism a folly? At what point do the idealists become votaries of self-interest? What is the fine line that distinguishes self-interest from the instinct of self-preservation? Does the amoral realism of Duryodhana push the law abiding idealistic Yudhishtara to actually go to war, and who paid the price of war?

War reminds us that while these questions are universal, there are no universal answers. Yet the devastation of war is a reminder that the complete breakdown of morality and idealism in the pursuit of narrow self-interest only results in everyone losing, some more than others.