Commentary

Commentary

The storm has passed. Arjuna, who moments ago was trembling with cosmic terror, now breathes a sigh of relief as he sees Krishna’s familiar, gentle human form before him again. The word maanusham — “human” — is striking. Krishna’s two-armed form appears to be an ordinary human body, and it is precisely this ordinariness that allows for intimate relationship.

Sa-chetaah prakritim gatah — “I have returned to my own nature, with my consciousness restored.” The cosmic vision had, in a sense, taken Arjuna outside of himself. His normal faculties of perception, thought, and emotion were overwhelmed by the infinite. Now, seeing the familiar face of his friend and charioteer, he feels himself again. His mind settles, his heart calms, his identity reconstitutes.

The address Janaardana — “chastiser of enemies” — is a return to the battlefield vocabulary. After the theological heights of the universal form discussion, Arjuna is coming back to earth, back to the reality of the coming battle, back to his role as a warrior. The cosmic vision has not changed who he is; it has deepened his understanding of who Krishna is.

There is a subtle teaching here about the nature of spiritual experience. The vision of the universal form was extraordinary, but it was not sustainable for a human being living in the material world. Arjuna could not remain in that state of cosmic perception and still function as a warrior, a prince, a human being. The gentle form of Krishna is the form in which everyday life, duty, and devotion can coexist. The infinite God becomes accessible precisely by appearing finite — and it is in this accessible form that the deepest love becomes possible.