In the epic of Mahabharata, one episode arouses immense outrage among several modern intellectuals.
Eklavya, a prince of a forest-dwelling tribe, had sought education under Dronacharya, one of the most renowned teachers of the time. Guru Dronacharya, owing to the prevailing customs and laws of the land, and perhaps based on his own assessment of Eklavya, refused to be his teacher. Eklavya then, devoted as he was to Dronacharya, installed his statue at his house and started self-learning the art of archery.
Once, when Dronacharya was conducting a training session for his students at the forest, Eklavya happened to showcase his impressive archery skills to the revered Guru. When inquired, he mentioned he had learnt the skill under Guru Dronacharya himself and showed him the statue he had installed.
Dronacharya, as was the custom, demanded a 'dakshina' from Eklavya which, to the latter’s horror, was his right thumb. While Eklavya displayed his supreme devotion to his teacher by slicing off his thumb and presenting to his Guru, it also supposedly adversely affected his archery.
There are multiple levels at which this story draws outrage from modern readers and interpreters of Mahabharata.
First, the very act of demanding a thumb is deemed cruel. Secondly, the act purportedly betrays a caste-ist attitude of the great Guru who deemed Eklavya, a person belonging to a lower caste, unsuitable to challenge Arjuna, one of noble birth. Thirdly, the act is deemed selfish for a teacher who wanted to maintain the status of his student as the best archer in the world by deliberately undermining someone who could have perhaps been a greater claimant to the title.
The outrage emanates from a number of assumptions – that Drona would not have done so had Eklavya been of noble birth, or had he been a terrible archer.
Whether judgments on other people should be made based on one’s own assumptions and speculations, I wonder. One could assume anything under the sky and come up with any interpretation that suits his or her ideologies.
But consider this scenario – A General at the National Defence Academy is involved in training young men to be officers in the Indian Army. He trains them for several days, gives them skills to shoot weapons, teaches them war strategy, principles and ethics of Warcraft etc. One day a young man from a nearby village approaches the General and claims that he is a fine marksman. He picks up a gun and gives the finest exhibition of shooting the General had ever seen. The young man now requests to join the Indian Army on account of his exceptional gun skills. The General politely refuses and sends him away.
If the General was a little more astute, he would probably inform local Intelligence or Police to keep an eye on the young man lest he be recruited by anti-social elements.
Was the General right in turning away the young boy?
Think about it. Weapon-wielding is as much about the skill of using the weapons as it is about the discipline, the notion of ethics, principles, and the morals that accompany it. Trained Army soldiers are taught not just when to use the weapon, but also when not to use the weapon, how to handle the weapons, the moral choices a solider may need to make in different circumstances, notions of team work, strategy, planning, and strong discipline and self-restraint.
Without these, a soldier is nothing but a loose cannon, or a gun for hire who can be manipulated by good and bad elements both for their ends. This is perhaps the reason why the Army refuses to admit surrendered insurgents or terrorists into its ranks even though they may have had extensive weapons-training.
Eklavya was a great man. He showed tremendous dedication to his craft, an exceptional dedication to learning, and exemplary devotion to his teacher. It is not a wonder that he was respected by all his contemporary kings. Let us not reduce the relation between Dronacharya & Eklavya to pettiness by viewing them through our ideological lenses.
