The lesson of the Mahabharata is surely not “Everyone has to do what they’re told, or they get punished!” Dharma is much more complicated than that.
Once upon a time, there was a rat and a cat, and they both lived in the jungle.1 This rat was a huge reader and was very wise.
The cat was somewhat intelligent. No dummy, but not necessarily a big reader. And he wasn’t a domestic cat, by the way. Nor was he an apex predator. He was some intermediate cat, like a lynx, but not a lynx. Let’s not dwell too much on the wildlife, because this story takes place in India, where the animals are all different anyway.
The wise rat was terrified of this feline, because…the cat was very fierce and spent a lot of time trying to kill our very wise rat.
However, one day the wise rat realized his feline enemy was trapped in some vines and couldn’t move.
The rat said, “Great, I'm going to go out and do whatever I want, fully unafraid of being caught and eaten.”
But...the moment the wise rat came out into the open it was spotted by a hawk! And, moreover, when it tried to flee from the hawk, it saw there was a snake creeping nearby too. And the rat was trapped between these two creatures that definitely wanted to eat him.
There was probably some lesson here about caution—the rat’s wariness because of the cat was what ultimately kept him safe from other dangers, like the snake and the hawk. But that was something the rat could think about later. In the meantime, the rat really didn't want to die today!
The wise rat said to itself, "I only have one chance. And that is the cat. He’s right here, trapped. And I know this cat. This is a smart cat. Let me make a deal with the cat."
The wise rat went to the cat and said, "Hey, I will hide underneath you, and the hawk and snake won't come near because they’re afraid of you. Eventually they will leave, and I will free you. Please don't eat me. If you do, then you won't be freed."
The cat said, "Okay, but why not just free me right away? Then I can carry you to safety immediately."
The rat said, "Come on. Let's be real. Right now, we can cooperate in our self-interest. But this morning…we were enemies. I’m not going to forget that.”
So they made a deal, and the wise rat sheltered underneath the cat.
If you're an astute reader, you’re thinking right now of the parable of the Scorpion and the Frog. The Frog tries to make a deal with the Scorpion to carry it across a river, but as they’re crossing the river the Scorpion stings it and they both drown. The Frog says, "Why?" The Scorpion says, "It was in my nature."
But...the cat wasn't a scorpion, it was cat. That was the whole point. Cats are smart.
After the hawk and snake went away, the wise rat embarked upon a scheme to free the cat without getting the wise rat killed in the process. The scheme was very complicated. It involved another force, the Chandala, who the cat feared. Even explaining who and what a Chandala is (they're a low-caste person, basically) would be too much weight for this story. But suffice it to say the rat waited to free the cat until the Chandala was nearby—he used the fear of this Chandala to keep the cat in line long enough for the rat to flee.
The point is: neither party screwed over the other. They cooperated, and by nightfall they were both free and safe. You can argue that they shouldn’t have helped each other, but that was not the story. In this story, they cooperated.
Afterwards, the cat crouched outside the wise rat’s little domicle, and the feline whispered, “Thank you for saving me. Now why don’t you come out and be friends with me? I am so grateful for what you did, and I want to honor you.”
And the wise rat said, “No. I don’t believe you, because if you were really my friend, you wouldn't ask me to put myself in your power."
He didn’t actually convince the cat. The cat had many rejoinders to this point. However, the wise rat didn’t really need to convince the cat, precisely because he didn’t need or want any future relationship with the cat. The wise rat respected his feline foe—he respected that the cat was smart enough to know its own self-interest—but the rat did not want to be friends with the cat, because the wise rat didn't believe in the concept of a friendship where each friend's self-interest wasn't fully aligned.
Afterword
This fable is a story from the Mahabharata. I’ve retold the story in my own words, but I think I’m being true to the sense and structure of the original. I actually thought about reprinting the fable from the book, in the same words in which I’m reading it, but I quickly realized that the paragraphs are extremely long and they are so dense with references that none of my blog readers would really enjoy reading them.
Here, for instance, is a paragraph of the wise rat rejecting the cat’s pleas to hurry up and free him more quickly:
Having been thus urged to speed up, the intelligent [rat] Palita, accomplished in wisdom, spoke these beneficial words to the cat, [Lomasha], which was under its control. ‘O amiable one! Be quiet. There is no need to speed up for you, or to be frightened. We know about time and one should not laugh at time. If a task is started, or completed, at the wrong time, it does not accomplish the objective. If a task is started at the right time, it accomplishes great objectives. If you are freed at the wrong time, you will become a great danger to me. O friend! Therefore, we must wait for the right time. Why do you wish to rush? When I see the chandala coming, with a weapon in his hand, I will sever the noose then, since both of us will suffer from fear. At that time, you will be freed and will climb up the tree. There will be nothing except a desire to save your life then. O Lomasha! When you are trying to save yourself and are frightened and terrified, climbing up to your branch, I will enter my hole.’ Desiring its own welfare, the rat spoke these words to the cat. However, Lomasha was immensely eloquent and knew about the use of words. It desired its own life. Having itself acted swiftly and well, it spoke these words to the rat, which was not hurrying up. ‘This is not the way virtuous and affectionate people accomplish the tasks of their friends. When you faced a hardship, you were quickly freed by me.2 In that way, you should also swiftly do the task that ensures my welfare. O immensely wise one! Make efforts so that both of us are safe. Is it the case that you are remembering my earlier period of enmity towards you? Behold. That has indeed been a wicked act on my part. It is evident that it has led to a reduction in my lifespan. Earlier, in my ignorance, I may have acted in unpleasant ways towards you. You should not harbour that in your mind. I seek your forgiveness. Show me your favours.’ The rat was wise and was honoured because it was knowledgeable about the sacred texts.3 It spoke these excellent words to the cat. ‘O cat! I have heard the words that you have spoken to protect your own interests. You should also know about the preservation of my interests. If there is a friendship that results from fear, or if there is a friendship that is full of fear, then one must make great efforts to preserve it. It is like placing one’s hand near a snake’s mouth. If a person has an agreement with a stronger person and does not protect himself, he will find it causes him injury, like eating something that is unwholesome. There is no one who is truly an enemy. There is no one who is truly a well-wisher. Interests are bound to interests, like an elephant to a wild elephant. When a task has been completed, no one looks to see who did it. That is the reason all tasks should be left with a little bit still undone. At that time, your task will be determined by fear. You will be focused on running away and won’t be able to seize me. Most of the strands have been severed. There is only one that is still left. O Lomasha! Restrain yourself. I will swiftly sever this.
To me this is really fun to read!4 But I had to spend six months learning how to digest this style. Being dropped into it cold would be difficult. I doubt most of you read the whole paragraph.
The Mahabharata is very long, but there is a logic to it—the work teaches you how to read it. It’s an anthology, but the stories were well-selected, and they’re placed in coherent ways that speak to the work as a whole. The section I’m reading right now is the part where Yudhisthira, after winning the whole war, goes to his uncle Bhishma, who is lying pierced on the battlefield by arrows. And Yudhisthira asks Bhishma for his wisdom, for his advice on how to rule well and to live well.
I would venture to say this is a little-read part of the work. It bears some resemblance to wisdom literature, which I am on the record as hating (because the advice often seems very trite).5
But I think the wisdom in this book is much more complex and readable than most wisdom literature. This section is fundamentally about dharma. Yudhisthira wants to understand dharma in its entirety, and he asks a series of questions about it. For instance, this cat and the rat story is about the role of intelligence. How should we use our intelligence to guide us? And that becomes a broader question about how to pick your advisors.
This story, and this whole section of the book is very cynical about whether an advisor can truly trust a King, especially if the King has reason to distrust them.
The upshot of the various tales is that, at the first sign of distrust, the bond is broken. The advisor should leave. There is a tale of a Jackal and a Lion, for instance. The Lion starts to believe some negative stories about the Jackal, and the Jackal just leaves! There’s been a whole tale of the Lion trying to persuade the Jackal to be his advisor, and they have a good relationship for a while, but eventually…it’s over. The Jackal says the trust is gone, I will go back to the woods.
Similarly, there is the heartbreaking tale of a bird who lives in the royal palace. This bird’s fledgling is raised alongside the young prince. One day, the young prince plays too rough and kills the fledgling bird. So the bird’s mom tears out the prince’s eyes!
The King, the Prince’s dad, says to his bird-friend, “The way you acted was justified. Please stay, don’t leave.”
The bird says, “Are you joking? I cannot stay in a house where I have gouged out the Prince’s eyes! How is that going to work?”
I am paraphrasing, obviously.
Anyway, the bird leaves.
But in the main Mahabharata narrative, this is strikingly similar to the tale of Drona and Drupada, one of the main driving forces of the narrative. They were friends as youths, and when Drupada became a King, Drona comes to him asking for preferment, but Drupada says, a King is friends with powerful people, not with beggars. This makes Drona very mad and creates an enmity that fuels the action of the whole saga in ways that are way too complicated to explain now.6
So…what’s the solution? What can you do? Can you be friends or can’t you?
In the Mahabharata, there is an answer, but it’s not an easy answer. Drupada had attracted the attention of a powerful sage, Drona, and to be a successful king he needed to somehow placate him and turn him into a friend. At the same time, a King can’t really have friends! Like, the King is in charge, that’s how it works.
Maybe conflict is inevitable. War itself is inevitable.
At some point in the volume I’m currently reading, Yudhisthira says, I was surprised that Duryodhana never sought peace with me.
But these fables are an attempt to explain to Yudhisthira why that never happened. A King cannot really be at peace with someone who they have wronged or with someone who has wronged them. Peace isn’t per se impossible—but the sort of peace that Yudhisthira wanted, where he took half the world but was clearly powerful enough to take the other half if he wanted, was not tenable. The pretense of brotherhood was not tenable. What he was really offering Duryodhana was a status as client-king, but given how Duryodhana had wronged Yudhisthira in the past, how could Duryodhana really trust that there would be true brotherhood? It’s just impossible. That’s why there was war.
The people who put together the Mahabharata fully understood how society worked. But…they also believed in the possibility that a society could be organized well. That’s why there’s this whole section in the book about the “rod of chastisement”. Bhishma says that a true King who rules in accordance with dharma will use his sovereign authority to bring society into line with dharma, so people behave appropriately:
Had the rod not existed, people would have crushed each other. O Yudhishthira! It is out of fear of the rod that they do not kill each other. O king! It is through the rod that the subjects are constantly protected. Therefore, a king who resorts to the rod obtains prosperity. O lord of men! It swiftly establishes good conduct in the world.
Later on, he says, that when the rod vanished:
There was no difference between what should be done and what should not be done and between what should be eaten and what should not be eaten. There was no difference between what should be drunk and what should not be drunk. How could there be success? They injured each other. There was no distinction between whom one should go to and whom one should not go to. One’s own property and that of others became the same. They snatched from each other, like dogs after meat. The weak were killed by the strong and no one exhibited any respect.
You’ll note there is no liberalism here, no divide between religious and secular strictures. The rod enforces private property, yes, but it also enforces food taboos, because both things are grounded in the divine order and are equally valid.7
Anyway, the Mahabharata is not just a story. It’s a whole system, bringing together an understanding of the nature of the universe, mankind’s place in the universe, and an understanding of practical psychology, politics, and ethics. What you realize, reading this work, is that individual human beings are not really that different from the rat in this story. This rat is a fantastic rat! He is so wise! But he’s still a rat. That’s who he is. He’s not going to be friends with a cat, because…that’s how you get eaten.
Similarly, some people might read this post of mine and think, “Well…the ideal social system envisioned by the Mahabharata would surely be rather hostile to you, Naomi.”
Yes that is true! But I am not in charge of creating a social system, am I? That’s why this blog doesn’t discuss politics. If it did, I might have to create some narrative that bridges the undeniable truth and power of this book with…the fact that my life also has value.
But I do see, from reading this text, that everything has a place, even if that place isn’t necessarily the place that’s been assigned to you by society and religion. The lesson of the Mahabharata is surely not “Everyone has to do what they’re told, or they get punished!” Dharma is much more complicated than that. Dharma doesn’t flow from law, but from the cosmic order itself.
This rat has spent his life studying sacred texts! As a result, he gained wisdom, and because of that wisdom, he is alive. The fact that he doesn’t rule the kingdom is just…a recognition of the fact that he is a rat.
This post you’re reading was inspired by an exchange I had with a commenter about the nature of dharma.8 This commenter said my understanding of dharma was mistaken: he said actually the Hindu understanding is that dharma isn’t something you intuit for yourself; it’s something you’re assigned by society. He said my own usage of the term was heterodox.
I disagreed. I don’t think the way I use the term is heterodox at all. Hindus fully understand that your dharma is your cosmic purpose—the question becomes how do you intuit that purpose? As Bhishma says:
In instructing you about dharma, I have not depended on the sacred texts alone. This is wisdom and experience and it is the honey that wise people have collected. A wise king will have many means of prevention, from here and there. Progress on the journey does not take place along a single branch of dharma. O Kouravya! When kings ignite their intelligence to follow dharma, they are always victorious.
This is in the Mahabharata itself. The idea that you find out dharma through debate, discussion, self-reflection and study—this idea is at the core of both the Mahabharata and of the way Hinduism is practiced by hundreds of millions of people.
I know it’s confusing that ‘rat’ and ‘cat’ rhyme and look somewhat visually similar. I’m sorry. I definitely wrote a version at first where the rat was a mouse, but…it didn’t feel quite right, because rats are a lot fiercer and more self-sufficient than mice.
This is a reference to the cat sheltering the rat earlier from the snake and the hawk. It seems a bit rich to say this was helping the rat escape from hardship.
I added my own emphasis here. This rat knows the sacred texts! That is why it’s so smart, and it can save its own life.
Many of you followed me because of my Garth Greenwell review. This paragraph from the Mahabharata that I’ve reposted is 600 words long—somewhat longer than the Snickers paragraph from the Greenwell review. But the Mahabharata paragraph is much more dense with story, setting, characterization, and detail. I don’t mind long paragraphs, but the content needs to be worth it.
Yes, this sort of thinking is very similar to the thinking of modern-day Christian Nationalists. I am not going to make an argument here against Christian (or Hindu!) Nationalism—I’m just noting what’s in the text of the Mahabharata itself.
I think yoy might be selling me on reading the Mahabharata. I loved the Bhagavad-gita; sounds like I might enjoy the rest.
I see some similarity with Greek fables with the relationship between hubris and the fates. The cat is the one in power, yet the mouse is wise and can use the cat's captivity to his own favor. Hubris would have made the rat want to ally itself with the powerful cat and surely suffer the consequences. I also see the danger of Christian nationalism (and I'm a Christian!) in aligning ourselves with the one in power to bring about the alignment of our beliefs with society. Is it truly trusting in God? Is it truly bringing heaven to earth?