Are you being heard?
Gyan is what is told and vi-gyan is what is
heard
Krishna reveals the Gita to Arjuna on the brink of battle at
Kuru-kshetra. Sanjaya, blessed with telepathic sight, overhears this and
transmits it to Dhritarashtra, the blind king of Hastinapur, father of the
Kauravas, uncle of the Pandavas, who sits far from the battlefield in a
comfortable palace. This structure, with two speakers and three receivers, is
aimed to draw attention to the complexity of any communication, the wide gap
between knowledge given (gyan) and knowledge taken (vi-gyan). Krishna and
Sanjaya speak the same words, however, only Krishna is the source of the
knowledge, while Sanjaya is merely a transmitter. Krishna knows what he is talking
about. Sanjaya does not. Arjuna, Sanjaya and Dhritarashtra hear the same
verses, but they process it differently. Arjuna is seeking this knowledge; he
believes that Krishna will solve his problem so is fully attentive, processing
what he is hearing. Sanjaya is merely doing his duty passing on what he hears;
he does not need to understand what Krishna is saying. And Dhritarashtra is
impatient, uninterested in what Krishna is saying, eager only to know the fate
of his sons. If anything, he fears what Krishna says for Krishna is on the
enemy side.
When you are communicating: are you Krishna, who knows what he is
talking about? Are you Sanjaya, the transmitter, merely the messenger? If
people see you as Sanjaya, will they connect with you the same way that they
would if they saw you as Krishna? In modern management, everyone is expected to
behave like Sanjaya transmit what the management says. And then we wonder why
no one respects Sanjaya.
Are the people around you Arjuna or Sanjaya or Dhristarashtra? Are
they interested as in case of Arjuna? Are they merely memorizing like Sanjaya?
Are they disinterested, even suspicious, as in case of Dhritarashtra? We want
front line people to be Arjunas, we want middle level people to be Sanjaya, but
more often than not they turn out to be Dhritarashtra who is constantly
wondering what is the game behind those fancy words.
Our memory shapes how we see those who seek to instruct us. And
how we see those who instruct us determines what we actually hear. The Sanskrit
word of memory is smriti, for seeing is darshan and for hearing is shruti.
The Vedas are called shruti: that which is heard. Later scriptures
are called smriti: that which is remembered. Shruti is always valued over
smriti, because shruti is seen as ideas that are timeless (sanatan) and eternal
(saswat) while smriti means ideas that are contextual, fixed to a place and
period. Shurti is what we hear (gyan); smriti is what we actually process and
assimilate (vi-gyan). Darshan is the practice of gazing upon the deity
enshrined in a temple, a practice that became popular with the rise of Puranic
Hinduism. Darshan leads to insight. Darshan therefore also means philosophy:
our assumptions that shape our reality. In Vedic tradition, Vedic wisdom
reveals itself to those who see what others could not, would not, or did not
see. These are the observers (rishis), who heard what others could not, would
not, or did not hear.
We often let our memories distort our understanding of the world
and so very often do not hear what is told or see what is shown. There is a
popular joke of a man once asking, `Can I smoke while praying?' and the priest
replying: absolutely not! Sometime later, the same man asked, `Can I pray while
smoking?' and the priest said it was okay! Both questions were same but the
priest gave opposite answers for his memories that valued prayer over smoking
made him react to the first half the question and prevented him from hearing
the entire question.
Like that priest most people are quick to the draw, too eager to
react, and so less inclined to listen. We want to be Krishna, but not Arjuna.
We end up as being Sanjaya, and those in front of us become Dhritarashtra. Thus
the Gita of the corporate world goes unheard.
By Devdutt Pattanaik
CDET24JUL15
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