[CH1-V1] The Battlefield of Life: Are you ready for Action?

Dhritrashtra

Ravi stood at the window, a cup of coffee in his hands, staring at the city lights. It was well past midnight, but sleep was the last thing on his mind. The weight of his decisions pressed on him—his job was draining, his startup idea was stuck in limbo, and his family expected him to be the rock they could rely on.

He had always prided himself on being a man who could handle pressure, but tonight felt different. “What should I do?” he muttered to himself. The uncertainty gnawed at him. Should he quit his job and go all in on his startup? Should he stay for financial security? What if he failed? What if he succeeded?

His phone buzzed with a notification—a reminder from a Bhagavad Gita app he had downloaded months ago but barely used. Out of curiosity, he tapped on it. The verse on the screen was the very first one from the Gita:

Dhṛitarāṣhṭra uvācha

Dharmakṣhetre Kurukṣhetre samavetā yuyutsavaḥ

Māmakāḥ Pāṇḍavāśhchaiva kimakurvata Sañjaya?

Dhritarashtra said:

“O Sanjaya, assembled on the sacred land of Kurukshetra, eager to fight, what did my sons and the sons of Pandu do?”

It was a simple question: King Dhritarashtra, blind both physically and in wisdom, asks his advisor Sanjaya, “What is happening on the battlefield of Kurukshetra?” His sons, the Kauravas, and their rivals, the Pandavas, are assembled, ready for war. But before the battle begins, there is a moment of hesitation and uncertainty.


Ravi read the words slowly, letting them sink in. A battlefield. Two sides. A question hanging in the air.

Kurukshetra wasn’t just an ancient battlefield; it was life itself. Every man had his Kurukshetra, a moment where he stood between duty and desire, courage and fear, action and hesitation. The battlefield wasn’t just out there—it was within.

He thought about Dhritarashtra, the blind king. He wasn’t just physically blind; he was blind to wisdom, to righteousness. He refused to see the flaws in his own sons, the Kauravas. The question he asked—What are my sons and the Pandavas doing?—wasn’t just about war. It was a reflection of his detachment, his refusal to accept reality.

Ravi saw himself in Dhritarashtra. How often had he turned a blind eye to his own reality? How many times had he ignored the voice inside him telling him to take action, to step into his purpose?

His Kauravas were his doubts, fears, and excuses—the part of him that wanted to stay in his comfort zone, to avoid risk. The voice that whispered: Stay in your job. You need stability. What if your startup fails?

His Pandavas were his ambitions, discipline, and the vision he had for himself. The voice that urged him: Take the leap. You’ve been dreaming about this for years. If not now, when?

Like Dhritarashtra, he was asking, What should I do? But the Bhagavad Gita didn’t start with answers. It started with a question.


The war hadn’t begun yet. The armies stood on opposite sides, waiting for the first move. It was a moment of stillness before action, a moment of hesitation.

Ravi felt the same. He had spent months trapped in this moment—knowing he had to make a decision but unable to take the first step. He kept waiting for the perfect time, the perfect conditions. But deep down, he knew there was no perfect time.

He walked back to his desk, his laptop still open with multiple tabs—some on venture funding, some on job security, others on self-improvement. He stared at his startup pitch, the document he had rewritten dozens of times but never shared with anyone. His battle was right in front of him, but he wasn’t fighting.

The verse made him realize something. Dhritarashtra was asking about the battlefield, but he himself was not there.

He was sitting in his palace, far from the war, relying on Sanjaya to narrate what was happening. He wanted to know, but he didn’t want to experience it firsthand. He was a spectator in his own story.

Ravi swallowed hard. Am I doing the same? Was he watching his life unfold from the sidelines, afraid to step into the arena?


Dhritarashtra’s question wasn’t just about war; it was about life. Before every great action, there is hesitation. But battles—whether in life, career, or personal growth—aren’t won by waiting.

Ravi took a deep breath. He didn’t need all the answers tonight. He just needed to take the next step. Whether it was updating his resume, refining his business plan, or setting a meeting with potential investors—action, not overthinking, would determine his path.

He took out a notepad and wrote down three things he could do right now:

  1. Email an investor he had been hesitating to reach out to.
  2. Set a one-month timeline to make a firm decision.
  3. Have an honest conversation with his family about his dilemma.

As he put his pen down, something shifted inside him. The battle was no longer something in the distance. He was stepping into it.

Kurukshetra wasn’t waiting for him. Life wasn’t waiting for him. The only thing that mattered was what he chose to do next.


Ravi sat back and thought about Dhritarashtra again. The blind king had a choice—he could have opened his mind, listened to wisdom, accepted the truth, and changed the course of events. But he didn’t. He chose ignorance over awareness.

And that was what made him blind—not the lack of sight, but the refusal to see.

Ravi didn’t want to be like Dhritarashtra. He didn’t want to ask questions from the sidelines. He wanted to be in the battle, making choices, taking risks, and fighting for what mattered.

He closed his laptop and stood up, a renewed sense of clarity washing over him. The decision wasn’t easy, and there were no guarantees. But that was the nature of battle. You fight because it matters, not because you are certain of victory.

The battlefield was waiting. Would he step forward?


Every man faces his own battlefield—whether it’s in his career, relationships, or personal struggles. We all stand at the edge of decisions that can change our lives.

The question is: Will you let hesitation hold you back, or will you step forward into action?

Don’t be a spectator in your own life. Don’t be Dhritarashtra. Be in the battle.

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