Krishna and Leadership: A Leader Instills Confidence

Scene 1: Kamyaka Forest
The hair-raising scenes of the Dice Hall of Hastinapura are past now. Yudhishthira has for a second time lost his kingdom and all that was his. As per the conditions agreed to before the game started, the losers hadve to live twelve years in jungle and one year in hiding, during which year if they are discovered, they have to repeat the cycle of thirteen years again. Accordingly the Pandavas have surrendered their kingdom to Duryodhana and are now living in the Kamyaka forest.
While all this was happening, Krishna was away from Dwaraka, fighting a war with Salva at Saubha and had no knowledge of the dice game or of the subsequent events. When Krishna reaches back Dwaraka after the war, Satyaki informs him of the sad, terrible events at Hastinapura and Krishna leaves everything and rushes to Kamyaka to meet the Pandavas and share their sorrow. He knows they need him with them at this moment of loss and only his presence can give them the strength they need now more than ever before. Many Bhoja, Andhaka and Vrishni chiefs join him. Draupadi’s brother Dhrishtadyumna, Chedi King Dhrishtaketu, the prince of Kekaya and many others too reach Kamyaka to be with the Pandavas in their hour of need.

Draupadi breaks down in front of Krishna and speaks of how she was dragged into the assembly and humiliated there during the dice game. How could anyone drag a woman like her into a royal assembly, she asks Krishna. A woman who is the wife of the sons of Kunti, Dhrishtadyumna’s sister and his, Krishna’s, friend? And that too when she was in her monthly period and dressed in a single piece of cloth stained by her menstrual blood? She tells Krishna of how the sons of Dhritarashtra wanted to ‘enjoy’ her like a common slave woman. And that while the Panchalas were alive, while the sons of Pandu were alive and while the Vrishnis were alive? Shame upon the strength of Bheema, she tells Krishna, shame upon Arjuna’s Gandiva, that the two of them stood watching their wife being thus humiliated before their very eyes.

Tears fall ceaselessly from the wailing woman’s eyes, drenching her breasts. She wipes her eyes, sighs deeply again and again and, her voice choked with grief and unspeakable anger, declares: “I have no husbands, Krishna. I have no sons. I have no brothers, no relatives. I have not even you, Krishna.”

Recalling Karna’s exultant laughter at her humiliation still resounding in her ears, Draupadi reminds Krishna that there are four reasons why he deserves to protect her: he is related to her, she is a noble woman who deserves to be protected, they are friends, and he has the power to protect her.

Krishna does what any man of honour should do under the circumstances. If Draupadi’s words are powerful in their appeal, Krishna’s words are power itself. His words terrify us and at the same time, send a thrill through us. “Lofty woman, grieve not,” he tells her. The women of the men who have enraged you too would wail as you wail now. They too would lament seeing their men lying dead, their chopped limbs lying scattered on the battlefield, their body bathed in blood, pierced by the mighty Arjuna’s arrows.”

Krishna speaks with the voice of destiny itself. And those words instill strength and confidence in Draupadi’s [as well as in the Pandavas’] mind. And in doing so he gives us a lesson in true leadership: a leader instills confidence. Later Krishna would risk his own life to avoid the war by going to Hastinapura on a peace mission. But at the moment he knows it is not talk of peace that would help a shattered Draupadi gather herself together but of vengeance and that is precisely what Krishna does.

Krishna shows this uncanny ability to restore confidence in people through his words and actions again and again throughout the Mahabharata.

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Scene 2: Thirteen Years Later
The Pandavas live twelve years in the jungle and one year in hiding in Virata to fulfill the terms of the dice game they had lost. When they claim their kingdom back at the end of it, Duryodhana refuses to give it back to them and instead asks them to go on another round of twelve years of life in the jungle and one year in hiding, as the conditions of the dice stipulated, saying that they had been discovered just before they completed their year of life in hiding. War becomes inevitable but Krishna decides to make yet another attempt at establishing peace. He gets ready to go to Hastinapura with a message from Yudhishthira. The message is: peace at any cost. The Pandavas would settle for as little as five villages. Give these to them, and there would be no war.

Draupadi hears of Krishna’s peace mission and comes before her sakha – her friend, Krishna. Her dark, curly hair is loose, as it has remained for thirteen years now. She had been dragged by her hair to the assembly by Dusshasana and she would tie it up only when it has been besmeared with the dying blood of Dusshasana.

She tells Krishna of what wise men say: that not to kill someone who deserves death is as much a sin as killing someone who does not. And she does not want Krishna to be tainted by that sin.

The fire-born Draupadi’s words are always fire. She tells him she is speaking words she has spoken earlier, asking questions she has asked him earlier. Is there another woman on earth as unfortunate as she is? Daughter of a king like Drupada; born from the heart of a burning sacrificial pit; Dhrishtadyumna’s sister; and his, Krishna’s, friend. She became the daughter-in-law of the illustrious Pandu and thus a part of the celebrated royal family of Ajameedha. She married the five Indra-like sons of Pandu and became the mother of their five sons. And yet she was caught by her hair and dragged into the royal assembly. While the sons of Pandu watched. And while he, Krishna, was alive. While the Panchalas and Vrishnis were still living. Finding no help coming from her husbands, she had called out to him, to her Govinda, begging for protection again and again.

Draupadi then takes her thick, curly, long, dark, snakelike hair in her hands and holding it up before Krishna, tells him: “Remember this hair of mine, Krishna, every time you speak of peace with the sons of Duryodhana. Keep this in mind, and also remember that if Bheema and Arjuna will not fight for my honour, then my old father will do it for me, along with his sons and my own sons, lead by Abhimanyu. My heart shall know no peace Krishna, until I see the wicked Dusshasana’s dark hand that touched my hair severed from his body and lying in the battlefield covered with dust. I have been tending a fire in my heart, Krishna, for thirteen years.” With this the beautiful Draupadi breaks down in inconsolable tears before her only friend in the world.

Krishna assures her once again. “Just as you do now, the wives of the men you hate too shall wail soon, unless the sons of Dhritarashtra would listen to me. Those men too shall be food to dogs and jackals, slain in the battle.”

“Hold your tears back, Krishnaa,” Krishna tells Draupadi, “the Himalayas might move from their place, the earth might shatter into a hundred pieces, the skies might come down along with the stars, but my words shall never go wrong. I promise.”

Once again Krishna shows how well he knows how to give strength to and restore the confidence of those who have neither.

Scene 3: Kurukshetra Eighteen akshauhinis is a huge army: 393,660 elephants, 393,660 chariots, 1,109,700 cavalry and 1,968,300 foot soldiers. And this army is standing face to face in the battlefield of Kurukshetra. The greatest battle ever fought on the soil of India. Every king, small and big, from all across the land is present there, each with his army. Conches have already been blown, announcing the beginning of the battle. The armies would clash any moment now. Arjuna asks Krishna, his driver, to take his chariot right to the centre of the battlefield. “Take my chariot to the middle of the two armies, Krishna, for I want to have a good look at the warriors hungry for battle assembled here to please the evil Duryodhana.” Krishna does what he is asked to do by the one man whom he loves more than anyone else in the world – his friend, his cousin, his brother-in-law and the greatest warrior on earth.

Arjuna takes a look around and what he sees is not two armies of fierce warriors but his dear revered grandsire Bheeshma, his guru Drona, guru’s son Ashwatthama and countless others near and dear to him. There are fathers and sons standing there, uncles and nephews, brothers and cousins all ready to maim and slay each other in a brutal war. His eyes cloud, head reels, perspiration covers his body, legs give way under him, arms lose their strength, the mighty Gandiva falls from his hands and he collapses on the chariot floor, telling Krishna “I shall not fight” and giving a hundred reasons why he will not. It is better to live begging for alms than enjoying pleasures stained by the blood of such near and dear ones, he tells Krishna.

Krishna gives him the teachings that the world today knows as the Bhagavad Gita, the immortal spiritual classic generally acknowledged as the most beautiful spiritual gem in the world. Arjuna wanted to desert his horrid duty and escape into a life of renunciation and Krishna teaches him what true renunciation means and how it is not running away from the battlefield of life but standing there facing it. When Krishna finishes, Arjuna picks up the Gandiva from the chariot floor, straight, energy and power coursing through his veins, confidence resonating in his voice. He is now ready to wage the war for which he has been preparing all his life.

Scene 4: Indraprastha, before the Rajasooya The Bharata kingdom has been divided and Pandavas have been given Khandavaprastha, the wilderness around modern day Delhi. They clear the land and establish Indraprastha there, a splendid capital city by any standards. Yudhishthira turns out to be a just, loving and competent ruler and the glory of the Pandavas spread wide. For the glory of his dead father, Yudhishthira now wants to conduct a rajasooya sacrifice which will declare him as the most powerful ruler on the earth. He consults sages and brahmanas, his ministers and his brothers, all of whom advise him to go ahead and do that, but he is still not sure. How does he know that everyone is advising him to go ahead just to please him and not because they feel he should do it, he asks himself. Or maybe they all have something to gain from it and it is for their selfish reasons that are asking him to do the sacrifice. But there is one person who would give him advice he can trust totally – Krishna. Yudhishthira sends word to Krishna telling him he wishes to consult him and Krishna comes to Indraprastha.

Yudhishthira places his concerns before him. He certainly wants to do the rajasooya, but he is not sure he should do it, nor even that he can do it.
Krishna, as always, looks at things from the higher standpoint. For him it is not a matter of Yudhishthira’s or the dead Pandu’s glory, nor even the glory of the Bharatas as a whole, but a matter of the welfare of the world, the one goal for which he has lived every day of his life – lokasangraha.

Krishna paints a very detailed picture of the dark political situation of the land at that time. One by one he takes the names of the kings of the land and tells how Jarasandha has conquered or subjugated each. The list includes many who are very close to Yudhishthira and who cherish love for him in their hearts, but such is the evil might of Jarasandha not one of them is able to take an independent stand against him, barring a rare king here and there. The dungeons of Jarasandha at Girivraja contains eighty-six kings he intends to sacrifice in a final ritual – he is waiting the number to grow to one hundred. The day the number is completed, a hundred crowned heads will be ritually sacrificed by him. No rajasooya will be possible unless Jarasandha is eliminated. Eliminating him is not only a political necessity for Yudhishthira if he wanted to perform rajasooya, but is the need of the hour. Dharma calls for it.

Krishna also tells him it is impossible to eliminate Jarasandha through a war. He is too powerful for it. But he has to be eliminated, there is no alternative to it. And Krishna tells Yudhishthira the time is right to do so.

Krishna himself has fought seventeen battles with Jarasandha, all forced upon him by the evil emperor, but eventually had decided to move away from Mathura to Dwaraka for the safety of his people. Jarasandha has a personal grudge against Krishna. The wicked Kamsa, Krishna’s uncle whom he killed, was Jarasandha’s son-in-law and Jarasandha wanted vengeance for the killing. However, in the seventeenth and final battle they fought, a happy thing happened. Kansa had two ministers, Hamsa and Dimbaka, brothers who were totally devoted to each other. In the battle some other king by the name Hamsa was killed and when Dimbaka heard of this, the jumped into the Yamuna and committed suicide, thinking it was his brother who had been killed. He did not want to live without his brother. And when Hamsa heard this, he too jumped into the Yamuna and killed himself. This has weakened Jarasandha to some extent, as has the death of Kamsa. It is the right time to strike him.

Both Bheema and Arjuna too are of the opinion that this is the right thing to do and that it can be done through the combined power of Bheema, Arjuna and Krishna. Yudhishthira, however, does not have the self-confidence that these three have. As he very frequently does, he begins wavering, unable to make up his mind. He is also worried for the life of his brothers and Krishna. He begins praising the virtues of contentment rather than valour. Considering everything, in spite of his great desire to do the sacrifice and become an emperor, he says it is better to forget all about it. Rajasooya appears indeed to be difficult and the best thing is to drop the whole idea, he tells Krishna.

Arjuna interferes and speaks of the need to act with valour. When he finishes, Krishna speaks, telling Arjuna he has spoken like a true Bharata and like a son of Kunti. The implication is clear: Yudhishthira has not spoken like a son of the Bharatas or of a brave mother like Kunti. Who knows about death, asks Krishna. Who knows about what will happen tomorrow? A life lived in the fear of death and defeat is not worth living. He speaks of the duty of killing Jarasandha – they owe it to the kings imprisoned by Jarasandha. And Krishna does not care if they are killed by Jarasandha’s people after they kill him. [He is saying this because the plan to kill Jarasandha is fully formed in his mind. It is going to be through neeti, indirect means, avoiding a direct war with him. It is possible that after Jarasandha’s death, his army would kill them. But Krishna is ready for it. Such is his commitment to dharma and lokasangraha.]

Krishna finds that Yudhishthira is still does not have the confidence required. Krishna explains his plan. Arjuna, Bheema and he would go to Jarasandha and challenge him for a one-to-one dual. And Jarasandha would choose Bheema – for he is a great warrior and for fear of ill-fame, he would want to fight only the greatest among them. And Bheema would kill him.

Perhaps Krishna still does not see the light of confidence in Yudhishthira’s eyes. But slaying Jarasandha is the need of Dharma and lokasangraha. And nothing would stop him from achieving that goal. He knows there is only thing that would make Yudhishthira relent. And Krishna does exactly that. He guarantees Yudhishthira the lives of both Arjuna and Bheema [and by implication, his own too] – for Yudhishthira is not confident of ruling his own kingdom without them, forget about performing the rajasooya, which requests the conquest of all other kings. As he says repeatedly, Bheema and Arjuna are his right and left hands.

Krishna’s words here are moving and powerful. He says:
Yadi me hrdayam vetsi, yadi te pratyayo mayi
Bhīmasenārjunau śīghram nyasabhūtau prayachha me.
“If you know my heart, if you have faith in me, then make over Bheema and Arjuna to me, as a pledge, without loss of time!"

Finally Krishna has succeeded in instilling confidence in Yudhishthira. The Kuru prince protests desperately. “Achyuta, Achyuta, don’t say that, don’t speak so. You are our lord and master, and we are your dependents.” He then agrees to Krishna’s plan and declares he regards Jarasandha already dead, the kings imprisoned by him already released and his own rajasooya, already performed.

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Instilling confidence in his people is one of the basic functions of any leader, whether in ancient days or in modern days, whether in a war or in a business organization. A leader who fails to instill confidence in his people fails to qualify as a leader, so fundamental is the leadership function of instilling confidence.

The ability to build confidence is part of the referent power of the leader, his most important power base as far as his dealings and relationships with his follower are concerned. And this ability depends on the leader’s integrity, commitment, courage and consistency. As a leader, Krishna shows the highest level of integrity, total consistency of purpose, absolute commitment to his goals and unsurpassed courage in facing the challenges these offer. Any leader if he wants to deserve the name of leader will have to show integrity, consistency, courage and commitment so that he can instill confidence in his followers. It is confidence thus instilled that gives wings to the followers and makes the impossible possible.

Incidentally, J. Collins in the January 2001 issue of Harvard Business Review defines Level 5 leadership as “the highest level in a hierarchy of executive capabilities, who blend extreme personal humility with intense professional will.” What Krishna shows is Level 5 leadership at its best.

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Leadership and Integrity: A Lesson from the Mahabharata

[Developed from the author’s class lectures in Indian Philosophy for Leadership Excellence to senior Management students at XLRI School of Business and Human Resources, Jamshedpur.]


“Sheelam pradhanam purushe,” says the Mahabharata, meaning character, or integrity, is the most important thing in man. Vyasa’s Mahabharata, that amazing book that is five thousand years old in its original version, never ceases to astound us with its insights into life and into human nature. After an exposure to contemporary western ideas of management, where leadership per se forms the largest area of study, when one turns to this timeless Indian epic, we suddenly realise that what the book says about itself is as true about management wisdom as about everything else: yad ihasti tad anyatra, yannehasti na kutrachit – what is here could be found elsewhere, but what isn’t here will be found nowhere else.

After the Mahabharata war is over, while Bheeshma is lying on the bed of arrows waiting for an appropriate time to die, Krishna sends the victorious Yudhishthira to his grandsire to learn about life, about human nature and about leadership from the dying man who was a master of every major branch of knowledge known to man then. One of the questions that Yudhishthira asks Bheeshma is about the importance of sheela to a leader. Though sheela is commonly translated as character, integrity is a better translation. In any case, character at its heart means integrity.

In response to Yudhishthira’s answer, Bheeshma refers to a discussion between his cousin and rival Duryodhana, now dead, and his father Dhritarashtra that took place soon after Yudhishthira’s rajasuya.

Such was the glory of Yudhishthira when he performed the rajasuya sacrifice that it would have incited envy in anyone. During the sacrifice, eighty thousand Brahmin scholars were his guests throughout the sacrifice and arrangements had been made for the stay of each of these scholars in a lavish house, each of them provided with thirty beautiful slave girls. Ten thousand other Brahmins were royally fed every day in the palace, the food served in dishes of pure gold. Precious gifts had come from every corner of the known world, kings lining up before Yudhishthira’s palace in miles-long queues day after day with gifts in the form of jewels, diamonds and other precious stones, priceless clothes and furs, weapons and vehicles, and heaps and heaps of gold. One king had come with a gift of a thousand slender-waisted, beautiful young girls, of exquisite complexion, their skins without a blemish and shining, all highly talented in the arts of serving men, all decked in gold and jewels! It was acknowledged openly: no ruler on earth possessed wealth comparable to Yudhishthira’s. His wealth then exceeded the wealth of the Himalayas, of the oceans and of all the mines of gold and jewels in the world together, says the Mahabharata. And the person whom Yudhishthira had made in charge of receiving the gifts was none other than Duryodhana himself – Duryodhana who hated Yudhishthira’s very existence! Duryodhana’s jealousy knew no bounds and he confesses it openly to his father.

Dhritarashtra tells his intemperate son that if he wanted to attain wealth similar to Yudhishthira’s, he should first cultivate character, integrity. Shree, the goddess of wealth, stays only with men who have integrity. To illustrate his point, Dhritarashtra tells Duryodhana an ancient story about Narada and Prahlada.

Prahlada the Asura was then emperor of all the three worlds, conquered by the power of his integrity. As it always happens, Indra becomes jealous of Prahlada’s power and feels shaky – there is the threat of losing his throne to someone like the mighty Asura. For the throne of Indra belonged to the man who had the highest character, who performed the most difficult austerities. Indra assumes the form of a Brahmin and goes to Prahlada and serves him as a disciple, with the desire to learn from him the secret of his success. Prahlada tells him his success comes from his following the noble teachings of wise men. However, Indra still continues to serve Prahlada and eventually the Asura emperor, pleased with the devotion shown and the service rendered, asks his disciple to ask for a boon, not knowing he is Indra.

Initially Indra refuses politely, saying that all his desires have been fulfilled. But when Prahlada insists, he asks: “If you are pleased with me, Emperor, please give me your character, your integrity.”

Prahlada is shaken by the request, but he grants the boon since he had offered it: after all, that is what a man of integrity does. Indra accepts the boon and goes away.

Soon Prahlada sees a dazzlingly lustrous being emerging from his body and leaving him. When Prahlada asks him who he is, the being tells him that he is Sheela [Hindi: Sheel. Integrity], and he is leaving him because Prahlada has given him away. “I shall now happily live,” Sheela adds, “in the Brahmin to whom you have given me away.”

Soon Prahlada sees another radiant being emerging from his body. Asked who he is, the being introduces himself as Dharma: virtue and righteousness. After Dharma too leaves him, telling him he is going to join Integrity to live in the body of the Brahmin since he, Dharma, lives only where Integrity is. Soon Prahlada finds another effulgent being emerging from him, this time Satya, Truth, and then another, Vritta, Uprightness, and then yet another Bala, Strength, all leaving him one by one to live in the Brahmin, following Integrity.

Following Bala, it is a splendorous goddess that emerges from Prahlada’s body and when asked she tells him she is Shree, the goddess of wealth, prosperity, good fortune and all else that is auspicious. Shree tells Prahlada that she had on her own come and begun living in his body, but now she had no choice but to leave him, because she always followed Integrity, Virtue, Truth, Uprightness and Strength.

Answering Prahlada’s question, she also tells him the Brahmin was none other than Indra, Indra has robbed him of his Integrity and where Integrity is not, there can be no Dharma, no Truth, no Morality, no Strength and no wealth, prosperity or good fortune.

“dharmah satyam tatha vrttam balam chaiva tathapyaham
sheelabhoota mahaprajna sada nastyatra samshayah.” - MB 12.124.62

Concluding his story, Dhritarashtra tell his jealous son that even if a man without integrity achieves prosperity, it would soon leave him since Shree cannot stay where there is no Integrity.

“Learns from this story and practice what it says,” Bheeshma tells Yudhishthira concluding the story about the importance of integrity to a leader.

Yudhishthira sums up the lesson he has learnt from his grandsire: Sheelam pradhanam purushe. Integrity is the most important thing in man.

[On a personal note, in the church school in Kerala where I studied, we had quotes from Sanskrit displayed on each classroom door. In class VI, mine said: sheelam pradhanam purushe. Coming across these words for the first time in the Mahabharata was an especially thrilling experience to me because of this childhood association.]


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The story of Prahlada and Indra is symbolic. Indra in Indian culture is a common symbol for the mind: by definition, indriyanam raja indrah – Indra is the name for the lord of the senses, that is, the mind. The mind is a tempter and when we are tempted by it, we lose our integrity. When temptation enters our hearts, the mightiest among us get corrupted, unless we are masters of ourselves. That is the reason why the Mahabharata repeatedly reminds us: atma jeyah sada rajna – a king, a leader of men, should always have mastery over himself. Indian culture accepts self-mastery as the first requirement of a leader. Without self-mastery, we become preys to every passing wind of passion, of lust and greed, of jealousy and anger, and a thousand other temptations and when that happens, the first thing that results is the loss of integrity.

In the organisational context, the integrity of the leader is of supreme importance. While a leader definitely has power arising from his position, his true power base is referent power: power that comes from the respect he commands from his followers by virtue of his integrity, from their admiring him, identifying with him and looking up to him, from their trust in him. Where the followers do not see integrity in the leader, no respect is possible for him and consequently he will have no referent power over them. Integrity builds trust, builds reputation and is a powerful influence on all around the leader. Without integrity, the leader loses the power to command.

The greatest power in the world cannot bend a man of integrity. That is why it is said that when the gods want to destroy a man of power, they first destroy his integrity, exactly as Indra did with Prahlada.

In the case of Prahlada, Indra succeeds in destroying the Asura king’s integrity. And that invariably happens when a leader has a weakness [chhidra, in the language of the Mahabharata] in him, when he is not a master of himself, has no self-mastery. We do not know what Prahlada’s weakness was – the Mahabharata does not tell us that. May be it was pride, maybe it was one or more of the many passions that prey upon the mind of the powerful and successful, we do not know. But we would be safe in concluding he had one – or else he wouldn’t have lost his sheela, integrity.

The Mahabharata tells us another story in which Indra tries to destroy the integrity of yet another epic king, and fails: the story of Marutta, a king of incorruptible character, of unshakeable integrity. [For details, please see the author’s Marutta: A Lesson in Character for our Times on www.boloji.com]. Indra’s failure with Marutta tells us: if you are a master of yourself, no power in the world can corrupt you.

Integrity works and is absolutely essential in a leader in all contexts, including the organisational context. For, integrity builds a solid reputation and high credibility and without these, no leadership is possible. Integrity is a powerful influence all around. And integrity is like milk – a drop of impurity can spoil it all. It is for this reason that a leader should invariably act with integrity.

Fearlessness is an integral part of integrity. Speaking and acting on what you believe speaks of integrity. “Walking the talk,” as we put it these days, is important. So is standing up for what you believe is right, without being swayed by what others would like us to say, and freely admitting mistakes, rather than trying to cover them up. As Brian Davis et al put it, when you make a mistake and admit it, it “will encourage others to do the same, and the problems that stem from attempts to hide mistakes can be circumvented. Admitting your mistakes will also increase your credibility because it lets others know that they will not be severely punished for making mistakes. They will believe that you understand they are human, too.”

As Robert H. Rosen says in Leading People, people “want to be proud of their leaders. They want to be led by people who maintain the highest ethical standards, not someone who is likely to cheat or deceive them or others.”

Speaking of highly effective leaders, Rosen says such a leader develops “a deep moral and psychological integrity, a kind of wholeness as a person. He balances the traits of his head [problem solving, logic, initiative] with the traits of his heart [courage, generosity, fairness, idealism, compassion]. This wholeness allows him to rely on both parts of himself and confront head on any potential ethical problem by using a wide range of skills.”

Integrity works. But, more importantly, a world in which men are without integrity would not be a place worth living in.

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The redoubtable Chanakya Kautilya, the mighty empire builder of ancient India and the world’s first management guru, places such importance on integrity that when he speaks of the qualities of the prime ministers, other ministers and senior officers, he places it among the most basic requirements. Not content with that, Chanakya goes on to prescribe tests for evaluating the integrity of these people. “Assisted by his prime ministers and his high priest, the king shall, by offering temptations, examine the character of ministers,” says Chanakya. He says that “a commander of the army dismissed from service for receiving condemnable things may…incite each minister to murder the king in view of acquiring immense wealth, each minister being asked "this attempt is to the liking of all of us; what dost thou think?"

The prime ministers themselves are not exempted from the integrity test, for so great is the importance of that virtue. “A woman spy under the guise of an ascetic and highly esteemed in the harem of the king” says Chanakya, “may allure the prime ministers one after another, saying "the queen is enamoured of thee and has made arrangements for thy entrance into her chamber; besides this, there is also the certainty of large acquisitions of wealth." Of course, if the prime ministers, the ordinary ministers or other officers fall for these tricks, they prove their lack of integrity, and otherwise, their integrity.

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Greek mythology tells us that "Prometheus, that potter who gave shape to our new generation, decided one day to sculpt the form of Veritas (Aletheia: Truth, Integrity), using all his skill so that she would be able to regulate people's behaviour. As he was working, an unexpected summons from mighty Zeus called him away. Prometheus left cunning Dolus (Trickery) in charge of his workshop, Dolus had recently become one of the god's apprentices. Fired by ambition, Dolus used the time at his disposal to fashion with his sly fingers a figure of the same size and appearance as Veritas with identical features. When he had almost completed the piece, which was truly remarkable, he ran out of clay to use for her feet. The master returned, so Dolus quickly sat down in his seat, quaking with fear. Prometheus was amazed at the similarity of the two statues. Therefore, he put both statues in the kiln and when they had been thoroughly baked, he infused them both with life: sacred Veritas walked with measured steps, while her unfinished twin stood stuck in her tracks. That forgery, that product of subterfuge, thus acquired the name of Mendacium (Pseudologos: Falsehood), and I readily agree with people who say that she has no feet: every once in a while something that is false can start off successfully, but with time Veritas (Truth) is sure to prevail."


This is precisely what happens. Lack of integrity might appear to succeed. But that success is short-lived, especially in a leader. And that is what Dhritarashtra means when he tells Duryodhana at the end of his story about Indra and Prahlada that even if a man without integrity achieves prosperity, it would soon leave him since Shree cannot stay where there is no Integrity.

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And that is integrity must be genuine integrity, not a faked one.

There is a beautiful story once told by Abraham Lincoln. A farmer had in his garden a huge tree that looked truly mighty. One day the farmer saw a squirrel running up the tree and disappearing into a hole. Curious, the farmer went near the tree and looked in and what he found sent shock waves through him. The tree that looked so towering and robust was all hollow inside and was on the point of collapsing any day!

Lincoln, one of the greatest leaders ever, used to say: It is not enough for you to look mighty, you should be mighty too. “To be a leader, you must have more than the image of integrity—you must also have substance.”

And what is what the Mahabharata says: Sheelam pradhanam purushe. The most important thing, the worthiest thing, in a man is integrity. With integrity, you have virtue, truth, uprightness, strength, wealth, prosperity and good fortune. And without integrity, you have none of these. To repeat what the Mahabharata says about it:

“dharmah satyam tatha vrttam balam chaiva tathapyaham
sheelabhoota mahaprajna sada nastyatra samshayah.” - MB 12.124.62

“Virtue, Truth, Ethical Conduct, Strength and the Goddess of wealth, prosperity and good fortune, all for ever cling to Integrity. Have not the least doubt about this.”

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Leadership and Integrity: A Lesson from the Kathasaritsagar

[Developed from the author’s class lectures in Indian Philosophy for Leadership Excellence to senior Management students at XLRI School of Business and Human Resources, Jamshedpur.]

Ancient Indian literature abounds in invaluable lessons in leadership, though the concept of leadership was usually that of the king as the leader. Since for our ancestors dharma was one of the most important preoccupations, especially in relation to leadership, our literature has numerous stories that talk of the importance of dharma for a king, which included the need for him to be virtuous as well as have and display character and integrity. Our ancients believed, as modern management experts do, that integrity or character is the very foundation of a leader’s effectiveness. Sheelam pradhanam purushe, the Mahabharata tells us: character is the most important thing in a man. Without character a leader, our ancients had no doubts, would not be able to command loyalty and commitment. It is a leader’s integrity that generates trust in him and without integrity, no follower, be he a minister of the king, a counsellor, an army commander, or a common citizen, will trust him. True, the king does have power that originates from his position as the supreme head of the state and the lord and master of all his men, but that is not true power, the old masters knew. While position power is important, no doubt, they said, true power is what we refer to today as referent power, power that is born of the qualities of the king and the nature of his relationships with his people.

Somadeva’s Kathasaritsagara, that ocean of immortal stories, tells us the fascinating story of King Yashodhana, whose life illustrates the kind of commitment and loyalty a leader of men commands by virtue of his integrity.

Yashodhana [the name means one whose wealth was his renown] was the ruler of the kingdom of Kanakapura [City of Gold] on the banks of the Ganga and he was renowned all over the world for his virtues. There was a rich merchant in his city, who had an indescribably beautiful daughter. By the time she reached the nubile age, she had grown into such a rare beauty as could not be found in all the three worlds. Such was Unmadini’s beauty that one look at her and a man lost his head – and that is what her name meant: the one who turned men mad.

The merchant now felt it was his duty as a citizen to offer her to his king before he offered her to anyone else in marriage since by tradition every rare jewel found in the kingdom belonged to the king. And of course, his daughter was an unsurpassed jewel. So the merchant went to the court and requested the king to accept his daughter as his wife, describing her as a precious beauty.

The king certainly was not averse to the idea. However, he had to make sure that the girl possessed the lakshanas – auspicious signs and marks – required in a royal bride and did not have any defects in her, which would automatically disqualify her. So he sent a few brahmanas to the merchant’s house as was the custom of the day. The brahmanas took one look at the girl and instantly lost their head – so maddeningly beautiful indeed was she. Recovering, they consulted among themselves. There was not a doubt the girl was fit for the king in every way. But her beauty! If the king wedded her, he would lose his head over her in no time and then he would lose all interest in ruling the kingdom, spending all his days and nights instead in the rapture of worshipping her beauty. No, they couldn’t afford that. They needed a king who would rule, not one lost in mad love to the beauty of a woman.

The brahmanas went back and told the king that she was unfit for his antahpura – her lakshanas were inauspicious. The king rejected her and the merchant, with the king’s consent, gave her in marriage to the king’s commander-in-chief Shaktidhara.

Shaktidhara loved her and they had a happy married life. Unmadini never forgot her humiliation, though. She had been rejected by the king on the grounds that her lakshanas were inauspicious – and she knew she had no inauspicious lakshanas in her and she was, beyond a doubt, a woman of unsurpassed beauty.

Soon the spring came and the kingdom was filled with the sounds and scents of the season of love. Vasantotsava, the spring festival, was the most important festival of the year and the whole kingdom forgot itself in celebrating the arrival of Kama, the God of Love. One day the king was out watching the festivities along the street on which Unmadini now lived with Shaktidhara. Drummers heralded the royal visit through the street and Unmadini heard it.

Like many other women, Unmadini too went to the terrace of her palatial house. And there she stood watching the royal procession, making sure that the king had no chance of missing her. In any case, such was her beauty, she lighted up any place where she stood like the moon fills the night sky with its splendour.

And then it happened. Seated on his royal elephant, the king saw the woman standing on the terrace. Time suddenly stood still. The king no more heard the drummers or the bugles, it was as though the whole world had suddenly become silent, come to a standstill, ceased to exist. Only she existed in the entire universe, the woman on the terrace who glowed like a flame, the woman like whom he had never laid eyes on, with beauty which he had never imagined was possible even in an Apasara, a celestial nymph. The king was unable to pull his eyes away from her. He also saw her own eyes challenged his, boldly, fearlessly, with an unspoken question in them, which he did not understand. Unable to stand the radiant beauty of the woman, the searing power of her gaze, the king swooned in his howdah on the elephant.

Back in his palace the king learnt the truth. This was Unmadini, the girl he had rejected, now wife of his commander-in-chief.

The king now gave up speaking. He no more took food or drinks. His eyes had a haunted look in them now, a look that never left them. He closed himself inside his royal chamber refusing to meet anyone, never leaving the chamber and no more taking any interest in the affairs of the state. His heart was torn to shreds by conflicting emotions – he desired Unmadini as he had desired nothing else in his life and yet he knew he had no right to desire her, she belonged to another man.

Shaktidhara, the commander-in-chief, learnt of the king’s state and the reason for it. He came running and fell at the feet of his lord. “Whatever belongs to me belongs to you,” he told Yashodhana, “for I am but your slave.”

The king preferred death to giving up virtue. He could not imagine taking another man’s wife for himself, whoever she was. When Yashodhana refused, Shaktidhara offered to give up his wife – he would give up all claims over her, if necessary declare her a courtesan, so that she ceases to be his wife and the king can have her. Yashodhana told him he wouldn’t hear no such thing. What Shaktidhara was saying was adharma – and in his kingdom he was not going to permit adharma, or cruelty to a woman. A man who abandons his wife for no fault of hers deserved punishment, and more so if he was an officer of the king, who should set up examples for all others to follow.

The king’s ministers tried to persuade him to accept Unmadini from Shaktidhara since he longed for her so much. Groups and groups of citizens appealed to the king to have her for himself. Enormous pressure was put on the king. But the king refused to be shaken from his virtue. Nor could he forget Unmadini, or cease to love and long for her in his heart.

Kathasaritsagara tells us that eventually the king met with his death in his chamber, his body emaciated, the eyes sunken, his voice dried up and the battle in his heart between the forces of longing and virtue claiming his life.

And Shaktidhara entered a blazing fire at the death of his virtuous king, killing himself. (As for Unmadini, the story does not tell us anything about her fate.)

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Unmadini’s is one of the stories the Vetala tells King Vikramaditya in the famous Vetalapanchavimshati stories, more popularly known as Vikram-Vetal tales, of the Kathasaritsagara. At the end of the story the Vetala as always asks the king a question. This time it is: Who in this story is superior in virtue: the king or his commander-in-chief? King Vikram answers it is the king. The Vetala questions, “How that can be? Wasn’t the commander-in-chief’s offer to give up his incomparably beautiful wife, whom he loved dearly, for the sake of the king greater than the king’s refusal to accept her? Besides, didn’t he give up his life following the king’s death?” King Vikram disagrees and insists that the King’s virtue was superior, for as far as the commander-in chief was concerned, it was expected of him to serve his master in every way but as far as the king was concerned, he did far more than what kings usually did.

And then King Vikram speaks words that remind us strongly of our own corrupt political leadership of today. Kings, says Vikram, as a rule are shameless pleasure seekers, and do not hesitate to break the chains of virtue that keep them restrained, as elephants in rut break their chains. All their sense of propriety flows away, says Vikram, with the water with which they are anointed as kings. The wisdom learned from the wise and old flies away like mosquitoes as pretty maids start fanning them with chowries after their anointment. Once the white umbrella appears above their head signifying their royalty, truth is blocked from their eyes as the sun is. And as the storm of wealth blows, their paths of virtue are blocked as a whirlwind covers a man’s path with dust. In spite of all these, Yashodhana did not lose his virtue, which speaks of the king’s great integrity and character.

For us, there is yet another lesson in the story. Such is the charismatic power generated by a leader’s integrity that followers readily lay down their very lives for their sake. Integrity commands the highest level of commitment and loyalty. And without integrity, the leader is reduced to his position power, which is far less than his possible charismatic, or referent, power.

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One other story that gives us a lesson in integrity is that of Nahusha and Shachi. Nahusha’s story, far more famous than that of Yoshodhana, appears, in slightly differing versions, all over Indian Pauranic and Epic literature, including the Mahabharata, where it is narrated in great detail. Nahusha, the Lunar emperor was the mightiest ruler on earth.

The Gods needed a ruler in place of Indra who had gone into hiding following his Brahminicide of Vritra. So they approach Nahusha and request him to be their ruler since he is the most competent ruler on earth, the most powerful and the most virtuous. Nahusha refuses in honest politeness, feeling that he is not competent enough to be the ruler of the Gods and they should search for someone else. The Gods, and the celestial sages who had come along with them, empower Nahusha – the sages by giving him part of their ascetic power and the Gods by a boon that whenever Nahusha looked at a man, his power would transfer to Nahusha, thus making him powerful to rule over them.

Everything is fine in the heavens under Nahusha’s efficient administration. For a while at least. And then corruption enters Nahusha’s heart – he falls a pray to the pleasures of the world of Gods. The Gandharvas and Kinnaras were such wonderful musicians, the Apsaras such superb dancers. Besides, the Apsaras were great mistresses of the art of pleasuring a man in bed – and there were so many of them, each more beautiful than the others, each vying with all others to pleasure the new lord of the celestials. Perhaps the position that was thrust on Nahusha had also been higher than his ability and that goes to his head too. In any case, the virtuous Nahusha soon turns a sensualist who lives only for pleasures.

And then tragedy strikes. One day while standing in a garden surrounded by his coterie of Gods and Apsaras, Nahusha sees Indrani Shachi, the wife of Indra, passing by. He is taken aback by her splendour and realises no Apsara comes anywhere near Shachi in the brilliance of her beauty. It also dawns on Nahusha he has never had her in his bed, though he is now Indra and since she is Indra’s wife, he has a claim over her too, as on everything else in the celestial world. He sends a message to her, asking her to await him in her bed.

A terrified Shachi runs to Brihaspati, the guru and priest of the Gods, who promises her his protection. She also consults her husband Indra who is in hiding. Many adventures later, Shachi is asked to pretend to agree to receive Nahusha in her bed, on condition that he came to her in a palanquin carried by the Saptarshis, the seven great celestial sages. On Nahusha’s orders, the Saptarshis carry him to her place. On the way in his impatient lust for her he kicks one of the sages with his foot, asking him to hurry. Nahusha is cursed and turned into a snake.

As we can see, Nahusha’s story is a complete contrast to that of Yashodhana. Where in spite of all his unendurable longing for Unmadini Yashodhana refuses to compromise with his integrity, Nahusha has no such compunctions and falls an easy prey to his lust, thus losing his integrity. Nahusha’s fall follows immediately. Though the very brief version of his story given here does not go into these details, in the original versions of the story the entire celestial world turns against Nahusha when he loses his integrity and conspires against him. And no one weeps for the fallen Indra, not even his coterie of sycophants. Whereas everyone in the kingdom of Yashodhana would have happily laid down his life for their king’s sake, as Shaktidhana, his commander-in-chief indeed does.

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That is the kind of feeling that integrity in a leader inspires in his followers. Integrity is an immensely powerful influence on all around a leader. While it gives the leader great inner strength, it inspires his followers to excel themselves in the leader’s cause – and in their inspiration, even the ordinary among them metamorphose into unbelievably powerful individuals. A leader’s integrity works miracles on the followers. Such is the inspirational power of integrity that it creates the willingness to make great sacrifices for the leader and even lay down their lives, if necessary. In India’s freedom struggle, we have seen that this happened tens of thousands of cases under the inspiring leadership of Gandhi, a leader who displayed unshakeable integrity.

In the organisational context, as a human resources expert puts it, “a failure of integrity poisons the outfit, destroys trust between people, and breaks down unit cohesion. While leadership qualities are diverse, integrity is simply a yes-or-no question. You either have it or you don’t. For that reason, leaders must always display the highest standards of integrity.”

In a world filled with morally depraved political leaders and corrupt corporate houses, when even the most powerful place in the world and the most powerful person in the world have becomes synonyms for corruption, stories like that of Yoshodhana help us keep our faith in integrity, that most valuable asset in a leader.

The Kathopanishad tells us:

Shreyas cha preyas cha manushyam etah
Tau sampareetya vivinakti dheerah
Shreyo hi dheero’bhipreyaso vrneete
Preyo mando yogakshemat vrneete. - Katha 1.2.2

Each one of us has the option of choosing the path of shreyas, lasting good, or preyas, immediate good. The wise among us see the difference between the two and choose shreyas for their eternal good; but fools choose preyas, thinking that it will give them what they have not and protect what they have.

Corruption is the path of preyas; integrity, the path of shreyas.

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