The Journey of the Ratha – Part 3

 The Journey of the Ratha – Part 3

When God Took the Reins: Why Krishna Became Arjuna's Charioteer

The Kurukshetra war was about to begin.

Two mighty armies stood facing each other. Conches had been blown. Great warriors were ready for battle. The destiny of an entire civilization was about to be decided.

At that crucial moment, the most powerful person on the battlefield was not holding a weapon.

He was holding the reins of a chariot.

It is one of the greatest paradoxes in human history.

Sri Krishna, the Supreme Lord, the ruler of the universe, chose not to sit on a royal throne or command an army. Instead, He accepted what appeared to be the humble role of a sārathi—the charioteer of Arjuna.

Why?

The answer reveals the very nature of God.

When both Arjuna and Duryodhana sought Krishna's support, He offered them a choice. One could have His vast and mighty army, while the other could have Him alone—unarmed and unwilling to fight.

Duryodhana immediately chose the army.

Arjuna chose Krishna.

That single decision changed history.

Krishna's promise was simple: "I shall not wield a weapon." Yet throughout the Mahabharata, His guidance proved more powerful than any weapon.

As a charioteer, Krishna's duties were far from ordinary. He guided the horses, positioned the chariot, protected Arjuna from danger, anticipated the movements of the enemy, and made countless split-second decisions in the midst of battle.

But His greatest service was not steering the chariot.

It was steering Arjuna's mind.

When Arjuna saw his own teachers, elders, cousins, and friends standing before him, his courage collapsed. His famous bow, Gandiva, slipped from his hands. The warrior who had conquered countless enemies could no longer conquer his own grief.

At that moment, Krishna did not urge him to fight.

He first taught him to understand.

The battlefield became a classroom.

The chariot became a seat of wisdom.

The conversation between the Divine Charioteer and His disciple became the Bhagavad Gita, a timeless guide for humanity.

There is a profound lesson hidden in this scene.

Krishna could have chosen to stand before Arjuna and command him.

Instead, He stood before him in service.

The One who guides the universe accepted the dust of the battlefield upon Himself.

He held the reins so that Arjuna could hold the bow.

Such is divine humility.

For Sri Vaishnavas, this is not merely an incident from history. It is a revelation of the Lord's boundless compassion (saulabhya) and simplicity (sauśīlya). The Infinite willingly became the servant of His devotee, teaching that true greatness lies not in being served, but in serving.

Perhaps that is why generations of devotees cherish the image of Parthasarathy—the Lord as the Charioteer of Partha (Arjuna). It reminds us that when life's journey becomes confusing and our minds are filled with doubt, we need only surrender the reins to Him.

For He who guided Arjuna through the battlefield can guide every sincere seeker through the battles of life.

Coming Next

Part 4 – The Great Sārathis of the Epics: The Forgotten Heroes Behind the Reins

Krishna was the greatest of all charioteers. But He was not the only one. Behind many kings, heroes, and even gods stood remarkable sārathis whose wisdom, courage, and loyalty shaped the course of history.

The Journey of the Ratha – Part 2

The Journey of the Ratha – Part 2

Why Does the Lord Ride a Chariot? The Sacred Meaning of the Temple Ratha

The heart of every Hindu temple is the garbha-gṛha, the sanctum sanctorum. It is here that the Lord resides, receiving the daily worship of priests and the reverence of devotees.

Yet, on certain sacred occasions, something extraordinary happens.

The Lord leaves the sanctum.

He emerges from the temple, adorned with exquisite ornaments and fragrant garlands. Seated majestically upon a magnificent ratha, He journeys through the streets amidst the joyous chanting of devotees.

Why?

Does the Lord, who is present everywhere, need to travel?

Certainly not.

The journey is not for Him.

It is for us

Not everyone can enter the temple. Some are aged, some are ill, some are poor, and some may have been unable to visit because of circumstances. Out of boundless compassion, the Lord comes to them. He steps out of His sanctum to bless every home, every street, and every heart.

The temple procession reminds us that the Divine is never confined within walls. The Lord belongs to all.

This is why the festival procession is called utsavam—a celebration in which God lovingly mingles with His devotees.

The ratha itself is filled with symbolism.

It is not merely a wooden structure. It is a moving temple.

Its towering form reminds us that the Lord remains supreme even while moving among His people. The ropes symbolize the collective effort of devotees, who come together with a single purpose—to draw themselves closer to God. When thousands pull the ratha, no one asks who is rich or poor, learned or unlettered. Before the Lord, all hands are equal.

Perhaps that is why devotees consider it a blessing even to touch the ropes of the temple chariot.

The ratha also reminds us of an important truth. In ancient times, chariots carried kings to battle and proclaimed their earthly glory. Today's temple ratha carries not a conquering monarch, but the Lord who conquers hearts through compassion.

The battlefield has become a street of devotion.

The victory sought is no longer over an enemy but over pride, selfishness, and ignorance.

As the Lord passes through the streets, devotees do not merely witness a procession. They experience the reassuring message that God seeks His devotees as eagerly as devotees seek Him.

The temple ratha is therefore much more than a festival tradition. It is a visible expression of divine grace.

But this raises another fascinating question.

If today's ratha is a symbol of compassion and devotion, what was its role in earlier times? Who first held its reins? Who were the men and women entrusted with guiding these mighty chariots? And why did the Supreme Lord Himself choose the humble role of a sārathi?

Our journey backwards through time now takes us to the most celebrated chariot in all of Indian literature—the chariot of Kurukshetra, where the Lord of the Universe became the charioteer of a troubled warrior.

Coming Next

Part 3 – When God Took the Reins: Why Krishna Became Arjuna's Charioteer

"The Journey of the Ratha: From Temple Streets to the Dawn of Civilization."

The Journey of the Ratha – Part 1 From Battlefield to Temple: The Journey Begins 

Every year, in towns and villages across India, thousands of eager hands grasp thick ropes and pull a towering wooden chariot through the streets. Bells ring, conches sound, flowers rain from balconies, and devotees chant the Lord's sacred names with joy.

For many, it is simply a festival.

For others, it is an act of devotion.

But have we ever paused to ask why?

Why does the Lord leave the sanctum and ride through the streets in a magnificent ratha? Why do thousands consider it a privilege to pull its ropes? And why has this tradition endured for centuries, even as kingdoms have disappeared and civilizations have changed?

The answers are neither simple nor confined to a single scripture.

The temple ratha is not merely a beautifully carved wooden structure. It is a living symbol of India's civilizational memory. Every wheel, every spoke, every carved panel, every rope, and every procession carries echoes of a past that stretches back through the epics, the Vedas, and into the dawn of our spiritual heritage.

There was a time when chariots thundered across battlefields, carrying kings, warriors, and heroes into history. A skilled sārathi could decide the fate of a kingdom. The reins he held were often as important as the bow held by the warrior beside him.

Yet today, those very chariots no longer carry weapons.

They carry the Lord.

The battlefield has become a temple street.

Victory is no longer measured by conquered kingdoms but by conquered hearts.

The horses no longer charge into war but symbolically draw the Divine among His devotees, blessing every home and every soul along the way.

How did such a remarkable transformation take place?

How did the royal chariot become the Lord's chariot?

Why did the greatest teacher of the Bhagavad Gita choose to stand not as a king, but as a humble charioteer?

What lessons did the ancient sages see in the chariot that made it one of the most profound symbols of spiritual life?

These questions have fascinated saints, poets, philosophers, and devotees for centuries.

"This series is an invitation to travel backwards through time."

In this series, we shall not begin at the beginning.

Instead, we shall journey backwards.

We shall start where the ratha still lives—in our temples and festivals. From there we shall travel back through the great temple traditions, the epics, the unforgettable sārathis who shaped history, the profound symbolism of the Upanishads, the celestial chariots of the gods, and finally to the earliest roots of the ratha in human civilization.

By the end of this journey, we may discover that the greatest chariot is not made of wood, the strongest horses are not found in royal stables, and the most important journey is not across the earth—but within ourselves.

So let us begin this journey together, one turn of the wheel at a time.

Coming Next 

Part 2 – Why Does the Lord Ride a Chariot? The Sacred Meaning of the Temple Ratha

Before we travel to the battlefields of the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, let us first understand why our temples continue this timeless tradition, and why pulling the Lord's chariot is regarded as one of the greatest acts of devotion.

Mud flowers.

 The story of Kuravanambi (Bhīma the Potter) is one of the most beloved traditions associated with Tirumala Venkateswara Temple. It beautifully illustrates a central teaching of the Bhagavad Gītā—that the Lord values the devotion of the heart more than the material worth of an offering.

The Humble Potter

Kuravanambi was a poor potter who lived near Tirumala. Every day, with deep love, he fashioned a small mud image of Lord Venkateswara and lovingly offered flowers made from the same clay. Though his offerings had no monetary value, they were filled with bhakti (pure devotion).

The King's Worship

King Thondaiman was also an ardent devotee. Every day he worshipped the Lord with exquisite golden flowers and costly ornaments, believing he was offering the very best.

The Divine Mystery

One morning, when the sanctum was opened, the priests found something astonishing. The king's golden flowers had been gently moved aside, while simple clay flowers rested directly on the Lord's feet.

The king was distressed and wondered who had entered the sanctum.

The Lord's Revelation

That night Lord Venkateswara appeared to the king in a dream and said:

"Those clay flowers are from My beloved devotee Kuravanambi. They are dearer to Me than your golden flowers because they are offered with complete love and humility."

The Lord thus taught that He accepts the love behind an offering, not its price.

The King's Pilgrimage

Filled with humility, King Thondaiman sought out Kuravanambi. Instead of seeing a renowned saint, he found a poor village potter quietly making clay flowers for his beloved Lord.

Realizing the greatness hidden behind such simplicity, the king bowed before him.

According to the traditional legend, Kuravanambi was overwhelmed that his secret, intimate worship had become known to the world. Having attained the Lord's supreme grace, he surrendered himself completely to Him.

The Spiritual Lesson

This story echoes the teaching of the Bhagavad Gītā (9.26):

"Whoever offers Me with devotion a leaf, a flower, a fruit, or water—I accept that loving offering from the pure-hearted."

Kuravanambi's clay flowers became more precious than gold because they were offered with unalloyed devotion. His life reminds devotees that God measures the heart, not the wealth of the offering, and that sincere bhakti alone reaches the Lord.

Swayamvara.

 

A beautiful page from Garuḍavāhana Paṇḍita's Divya Sūri Charitam – Āṇḍāḷ Svayaṃvara. These verses poetically describe the unique moment when all the forms of the Lord assemble, yet Āṇḍāḷ's heart belongs only to Śrī Raṅganātha.

Here is the significance of each verse:

Verse 29 – The Lords Await

The poet paints a delightful and humorous scene. The assembled forms of Bhagavān appear outwardly composed, but inwardly each wonders whether He will be chosen by Godā.

Some pretend to admire the Kaustubha gem on their chest, while actually checking their own reflection. Others speak to their attendants merely as a pretext, though their hearts are filled with anticipation.

The deeper message is that the Supreme Lord, out of infinite compassion, delights in the love of His devotee. This is not because He lacks perfection, but because He joyfully reciprocates pure bhakti.

Verse 30 – The Bee and the Jasmine

This is perhaps the most celebrated comparison.

Just as a bee flies through a garden filled with countless beautiful flowers yet settles only on the one jasmine blossom that has captured its heart, Godā passes before the 108 assembled forms of Bhagavān without hesitation. Her heart is fixed solely on Lord Śrī Raṅganātha.

The verse beautifully echoes the spirit of the Bhagavad Gītā:

Vyavasāyātmikā buddhiḥ — the single-pointed, unwavering mind.

Godā's devotion never wavers. She recognizes only the Lord whom she has accepted as her eternal husband.

Verse 31 – Anugrahā Introduces the Lords

Godā's companion Anugrahā, after obtaining permission from elders such as Śaṭhakopa Sūri (Nammāḻvār), respectfully introduces each divine form.

She explains:

His lineage,

His divine qualities,

His glory,

His greatness.

This resembles the traditional Sakhī (companion) in divine love poetry, who assists the bride in recognizing the beloved.

Verse 32 – Ranganātha First

Before beginning, Anugrahā first bows to Lord Raṅganātha, acknowledging Him as the Supreme Lord of all.

Then, holding Godā's hand, she describes each Lord's:

Form (Rūpa)

Divine qualities (Guṇa)

Abode (Dhāma)

Name (Nāma)

Virtues and greatness

Yet despite hearing about every manifestation, Godā's heart remains fixed on Raṅganātha alone.

Sri Vaishnava Insight

These verses beautifully teach that although the Lord manifests in countless temples, names, and forms for the benefit of devotees, the devotee's chosen Lord (iṣṭa-devatā) occupies a unique place in the heart.

For Āṇḍāḷ:

Every form is Nārāyaṇa.

Every form is worthy of worship.

Yet her eternal bridegroom is Śrī Raṅganātha of Śrīraṅgam.

Her devotion is not based on comparison or preference but on eternal divine destiny (nitya-sambandha). As the bee chooses only one fragrant blossom, Godā's heart naturally rests only on Him.

One of the unique features of Garuḍavāhana Paṇḍita's Divya Sūri Charitam (Āṇḍāḷ Svayaṃvara Kāṇḍam) is that it is not merely a description of the Svayaṃvara. It weaves together many beautiful subsidiary narratives (upākhyānas) in which each form of the Lord is introduced, and reasons are poetically given as to why Āṇḍāḷ respectfully declines that form and continues her search for Śrī Raṅganātha.

Some of the well-known episodes include:

Badarī Nārāyaṇa – Though He is the Lord of great austerity in the Himalayas, Āṇḍāḷ longs for the Lord who resides amidst devotees and accepts intimate loving service.

Narasimha – She reveres Him as the compassionate protector of Prahlāda, but His fierce manifestation is for destroying adharma. She seeks the gentle, reclining bridegroom who bestows peace.

Veṅkaṭeśa of Tirumala – She praises His mercy toward those in Kali Yuga, yet says that her vow has already been given to Raṅganātha.

Kṛṣṇa – Although she herself sang of Kṛṣṇa in the Tiruppāvai and Nācciyār Tirumoḻi, here she longs for the majestic Lord of Śrīraṅgam, seeing Him as the fulfilment of all her aspirations.

Rāma – She extols His righteousness and compassion, yet He is the ideal husband of Sītā. Her own heart belongs elsewhere.

Varadarāja, Oppiliappan, Sundararāja, and many other Divya Deśa Perumāls are each praised with great affection before being respectfully declined.

These refusals should never be understood as rejection or as suggesting one form is superior to another. In Sri Vaiṣṇava philosophy:

All these are the same Supreme Nārāyaṇa.

Āṇḍāḷ does not reject the Lord; she rejects marriage with any form other than the one to whom she has already surrendered her heart.

A good analogy is that of a devoted bride. She may honour and respect every noble man, yet she accepts only her own husband. Likewise, Āṇḍāḷ worships every manifestation of Nārāyaṇa but chooses only Śrī Raṅganātha, because she regards Him as her eternal divine bridegroom.

This theme beautifully reinforces the Sri Vaiṣṇava understanding of ananya-bhakti (exclusive devotion). One may bow to all forms of the Lord, but the heart naturally rests in the form with whom one has an eternal relationship.

These subsidiary stories also serve another purpose: they become a poetic pilgrimage through the Divya Deśams. Through Anugrahā's introductions and Āṇḍāḷ's responses, the reader learns the glory, legends, and unique characteristics of numerous manifestations of Bhagavān before finally arriving at the divine wedding with Śrī Raṅganātha in Śrīraṅgam. This literary device makes the Āṇḍāḷ Svayaṃvara both a devotional masterpiece and a celebration of the entire Divya Deśa tradition.

These images represent some of the principal forms of the Lord that are celebrated in the Āṇḍāḷ Svayaṃvara before Āṇḍāḷ finally chooses Śrī Raṅganātha.

Śrī Raṅganātha – The reclining Lord of Śrīraṅgam, Āṇḍāḷ's eternal bridegroom.

Śrī Āṇḍāḷ (Godā Devī) – The divine bride carrying the flower garland she first wore before offering it to the Lord.

Śrī Narasiṃha – Revered as Prahlāda's protector; Āṇḍāḷ praises Him but continues her search.

Badarī Nārāyaṇa – The Lord of Badarī, worshipped by sages in the Himalayas.

Śrī Veṅkaṭeśwara – The compassionate Lord of Tirumala, who blesses devotees in the Kali Yuga.

Śrī Rāma – Maryādā Puruṣottama, the ideal king and husband, whom Āṇḍāḷ reveres deeply.

The Divya Sūri Charitam transforms the Svayaṃvara into a poetic pilgrimage through many manifestations of Nārāyaṇa. Each Lord is glorified with great devotion, yet Godā's heart never wavers. Like the bee that seeks only one fragrant blossom, she remains steadfast in her love for Śrī Raṅganātha of Śrīraṅgam.

The connection.

 The connection between the Vishnu Sahasranama and Bhishma is profound. Bhishma did not merely recite the thousand names of Lord Vishnu—he also gave humanity timeless spiritual instructions while lying on his bed of arrows.

Here are the key teachings that accompany the Vishnu Sahasranama in the Mahabharata:

1. Seek the Supreme Refuge

When Yudhishthira asked:

Who is the Supreme Lord?

Who is the highest refuge?

By praising whom does one attain the highest good?

Bhishma answered that Lord Vishnu (Narayana) is the Supreme Being, the ultimate refuge, and the highest object of worship.

2. Chant the Divine Names

Bhishma taught that reciting the thousand names of Vishnu with devotion:

Removes sins.

Grants peace of mind.

Protects from fear and suffering.

Bestows prosperity and righteousness.

Ultimately leads to moksha.

3. Live a Life of Dharma

Bhishma emphasized that chanting alone is not enough. One should also:

Speak the truth.

Practice compassion.

Control the senses.

Respect parents, elders, and teachers.

Perform one's duties sincerely.

4. Remember God Constantly

The Lord should be remembered not only during worship but throughout daily life. Constant remembrance purifies the mind.

5. Bhakti is Open to Everyone

Bhishma declares that anyone who chants the Lord's names with faith—regardless of status—receives His grace.

6. Faith and Sincerity Matter More Than Ritual

The power of the Sahasranama lies in devotion (bhakti), not merely in perfect pronunciation or elaborate rituals.

7. The Phala Śruti (Benefits)

Bhishma concludes by describing the fruits of reciting the Vishnu Sahasranama:

Victory over difficulties.

Freedom from fear.

Good health.

Long life.

Prosperity.

Mental tranquility.

Divine grace.

Liberation for those who chant with steadfast devotion.

A Beautiful Lesson

It is deeply significant that these teachings came from Bhishma while he lay on a bed of arrows, awaiting his chosen moment to leave the world. Even amidst immense physical pain, his mind remained fixed on Lord Narayana. His final gift to humanity was not wealth or power, but the path of remembrance of the Lord through His thousand names.

In the Sri Vaishnava tradition, the Vishnu Sahasranama is revered as a concise summary of the Lord's infinite auspicious qualities (kalyāṇa guṇas). Daily recitation, accompanied by righteous conduct and wholehearted surrender (śaraṇāgati), is understood to bring one ever closer to the grace of Sriman Narayana.

Indebted indeed.

 According to the Mahabharata and the Bhagavad Gita, Sanjaya also saw the Viśvarūpa, though in a different way from Arjuna.

The key difference is this:

Arjuna saw the Viśvarūpa because Lord Krishna directly granted him divine eyes (divya cakṣu) (Bhagavad Gita 11.8). The vision was a personal act of divine grace, intended to remove Arjuna's doubts and strengthen him for his duty.

Sanjaya saw the same events because the sage Vyasa had bestowed upon him divya dṛṣṭi (divine sight), enabling him to witness and narrate everything happening on the battlefield to Dhritarashtra from afar.

This is why Sanjaya can vividly describe the Lord's Universal Form in Chapter 11. At the beginning of the vision (Bhagavad Gita 11.9 onward), it is Sanjaya who narrates:

"Having thus spoken, the Supreme Lord Hari revealed to Arjuna His supreme, divine Universal Form."

He then goes on to describe its countless mouths, eyes, divine ornaments, celestial weapons, and immeasurable brilliance before quoting Arjuna's own words of astonishment.

Why, then, is Arjuna's experience unique?

Although both perceived the Viśvarūpa, their experiences were not identical.

Arjuna stood in the Lord's immediate presence. He was overwhelmed emotionally—filled with wonder, devotion, humility, and even trembling. The vision transformed him personally.

Sanjaya witnessed it as a divinely empowered observer. He faithfully reported what he saw to Dhritarashtra, but the revelation was not directed toward him as a personal spiritual instruction.

What about Dhritarashtra?

Ironically, Dhritarashtra heard the entire account but did not see the Universal Form. His physical blindness remained, and the Lord did not grant him divine sight. Some traditional commentators see a symbolic lesson here: merely hearing about God's greatness is invaluable, but true realization ultimately depends on divine grace and inner receptivity.

The Sri Vaishnava understanding

Sri Bhagavad Ramanujacharya accepts that Sanjaya genuinely witnessed the Viśvarūpa through Vyasa's bestowed divine vision. However, the special grace of the Lord was bestowed upon Arjuna, because the purpose of the revelation was to establish his conviction that Krishna is the Supreme Narayana and to prepare him to perform his dharma without doubt.

Thus, there were three people connected with the event:

Krishna — the revealer of the Universal Form.

Arjuna — the direct recipient of the Lord's grace and the transformative vision.

Sanjaya — the divinely empowered witness who faithfully conveyed this extraordinary revelation to Dhritarashtra and, through the Mahabharata, to all future generations.

In that sense, every reader of the Bhagavad Gita is indebted to Sanjaya, for without his divinely granted vision and narration, the world would not have received this magnificent account of the Lord's Viśvarūpa.