Reflections inspired by the first verse of the Bhagavad Gita, I was humming after more than 50 years, and was shocked I understood it is associated with my contribution to modern medicine.

King Dhritarashtra asks: What happened when my sons and the sons of Pandu assembled, eager for battle, on the field of Dharma?

This question is timeless. It is not merely about two armies; it is about the struggle between forces within society and within each human being. Kurukshetra is not only a geographical place—it is every home, every institution, every nation, and every human heart where conflict unfolds between righteousness and selfishness, clarity and confusion, courage and fear.

In traditional interpretation, Dharma-kshetra is the field of righteousness, while Kurukshetra represents the complex battlefield of worldly action. When we reflect deeply, we see another layer: life is fertile ground where good can grow, yet weeds also grow alongside crops. If neglected, weeds overrun the field and suffocate what sustains life.

The law of nature is clear: cultivation requires vigilance. Weeds are not removed in anger; they are removed to allow life to flourish. Protection of Dharma is therefore not destruction for its own sake, but restoration of balance.

Krishna’s teaching throughout the Gita reminds us that divine action is never for personal gain. Whenever righteousness declines and disorder rises, forces emerge—through people, movements, and moments—that restore equilibrium. Krishna repeatedly states that his actions are for the welfare of the world, not for personal power or possession. Kingdoms were returned to rightful rulers; victories were not hoarded. Dharma, not domination, was the purpose.

Today, many feel that the world again resembles a field overrun by weeds: fear replacing understanding, greed overshadowing compassion, division replacing community, and systems serving profit rather than human dignity. The crisis is not only political or economic—it is moral and spiritual. Humanity struggles between serving collective welfare and surrendering to selfish instincts.

In such times, people often wait for divine intervention, imagining a dramatic event that will set everything right. Yet the Gita suggests something subtler and more demanding: divine action often works through human instruments. Ordinary individuals are called upon to act with courage, clarity, and responsibility.

Defending Dharma does not necessarily mean taking up arms. In our age, the battlefields are hospitals, classrooms, communities, and families. Dharma is defended when truth is spoken despite pressure, when compassion guides action, when dignity is restored to those left behind, and when systems are redesigned to serve people rather than exploit them.

The struggle is long, and victory is never guaranteed. Krishna himself reminds Arjuna that one’s duty is action, not control over results. We may not win every battle; we may not even see the final outcome. Yet neglecting action guarantees decline.

Our role, therefore, is not to become conquerors but caretakers—removing what harms life so that what sustains life can grow. We are not owners of the field; we are temporary guardians.

The true defence of Dharma begins within: resisting fear, greed, and indifference in ourselves. It expands outward through service, ethical leadership, and protection of the vulnerable. Each person who acts with integrity becomes part of the quiet restoration that sustains civilisation.

I removed the veil of illusion, reclaimed their free will, and stopped listening to the lies, seeking the truth and knowing the truth.

Read My Book to learn more about your body and soul: https://designrr.site?i=10lyp&t=67ef91