New Delhi, Jan. 13 -- "A wise person should not unsettle the minds of those attached to action; instead, acting with discipline, he should guide action in harmony with the larger order."
- Bhagavad Gita 3.26
The encounter between Barbarik and Krishna, unfolding on the threshold of the Kurukshetra war, offers enduring insights into leadership rather than tales of battlefield prowess. Barbarik, the grandson of Bhima and son of Ghatotkacha, emerges as a rare moral figure whose greatness lies less in martial achievement and more in ethical discernment. Endowed with exceptional capability and guided by a vow to support the weaker side, the engagement compelled him to examine not what he was capable of doing, but what ought to be done. The episode invites reflection on how leadership is ultimately judged, not by the extent of one's capacity to act, but by the wisdom to refrain from action in the service of institutional integrity.
Recognising the power that Barbarik possessed, Krishna engaged him not by asserting authority, but through conversation. Disguised as a Brahmin, Krishna asked Barbarik to reflect on his purpose in life, considering the gifts he possessed. With humility, Barbarik spoke of his three infallible arrows and of his pledge to always fight for the weaker side. Through careful questioning, Krishna revealed the unintended consequence of this vow: that Barbarik's intervention would cause the war to fluctuate endlessly, prolonging destruction rather than resolving it.
This exchange reveals a foundational leadership principle that power, when unguided by foresight, no matter however noble in intent, can undermine the very justice it seeks to serve. Barbarik's martial skill was unmatched, and his intervention could have decisively altered the course of the war. Yet, Krishna shifted the focus of the conversation from immediate outcome to long-term consequence. He articulated that tactical superiority, when removed from strategic clarity, risks destabilising the objective it seeks to achieve. Enduring leadership is, therefore, shaped not by brilliance in execution alone, but by the capacity to align capability with a vision that safeguards the larger institutional interests.
The dialogue also introduces a deeper and often overlooked dimension of leadership: asymmetry of power. Barbarik's dilemma was not merely that he is powerful, but that his power was convincingly decisive. His presence alone could determine the outcome of the war as his powers were well recognized, rendering all other actors functionally irrelevant. Such asymmetry imposes a higher ethical obligation on those who wield power. In contemporary leadership contexts, similar imbalances arise when individuals or institutions possess overwhelming influence. This would include monopolistic enterprises and others with unchecked authority, who can influence business outcomes and the lives of millions of consumers. In such circumstances, even well-meaning interventions can distort systems. Barbarik's restraint highlights that when power is unequal, leadership responsibility increases correspondingly, with heightened responsibility to systemic impact rather than personal conviction.
Closely related is the fragility of institutions when confronted with excessive individual capability. The Kurukshetra war, despite the violence and the moral conflicts, symbolically represented an institutional mechanism for the restoration of order. Barbarik's intervention, though morally motivated, threatened to destabilise this process by making resolution impossible. This illustrates a critical leadership insight that makes institutions more vulnerable than individuals. Exceptional performers, celebrated leaders, or even disruptive forces can unintentionally weaken institutional coherence if their actions override widely accepted norms and frameworks. Leadership maturity lies in recognising when individual excellence must yield to institutional continuity, preserving systems that outlast personal influence.
From this followed the insight that ethical scrutiny must itself be justified by purpose. Krishna did not doubt Barbarik's sincerity or competence, but examined whether his intent aligned with the broader demands of dharma. This distinction holds contemporary relevance. Oversight, audits, scrutiny and ethical evaluation are essential features of leadership, yet their legitimacy is justified only when applied to ensure responsibility, safeguard trust and enable sound decision-making rather than as mere procedures. On the other hand, when scrutiny becomes an instrument of control, delay, or moral display, it erodes trust and weakens institutional effectiveness.
The dialogue also revealed that rules require context rather than rigidity. Barbarik's vow, absolute and unwavering, appeared righteous until placed within a larger ethical framework. Krishna demonstrated that blind adherence to any rule, when detached from purpose, can defeat justice rather than serve it. In modern institutions governed by policies and procedures, this lesson resonates strongly. Rules are indispensable, but they must remain subordinate to values. Leadership requires the discernment to interpret principles with wisdom, adapting them to serve fairness rather than allowing harm to persist in the name of compliance.
Faced with this realisation, Barbarik confronted the most difficult leadership decision of his life. Understanding that his presence would prolong the conflict, he chose to step aside, offering his own head in sacrifice so that the war could proceed toward resolution. This moment articulates one of the rarest leadership virtues: the courage to step aside and renounce power when the situation demands. In cultures that equate leadership with constant presence and command, Barbarik demonstrates that withdrawal, when guided by responsibility, is not weakness but a sign of moral strength.
Equally instructive is the manner in which this decision was reached. Krishna questioned with curiosity and an attitude of understanding rather than command. Barbarik also responded with openness and sincerity rather than being defensive. In this spirit, assumptions were challenged and clarity emerged. In complex modern environments where decisions carry far-reaching consequences, leadership matures through deliberation and the willingness to engage sincerely with alternative perspectives.
By accepting Krishna's counsel, Barbarik demonstrated accountability at its highest level. Despite possessing extraordinary power, he did not place himself above dharma. He acknowledged a moral order greater than individual capability. This submission was not an abdication of strength, but its highest expression. Leadership, the episode reminds us, is defined by restraint rooted in ethical clarity rather than entitlement reinforced by authority.
Barbarik's sacrifice ultimately shaped his legacy. He is remembered not for battles won, but for the damage he prevented. His worship as Khatu Shyam Ji, revered as the protector of the vulnerable, reflects the social truth that societies remember leaders who relinquish advantage to preserve balance. Trust is not commanded through power; it is earned through visible commitment to the common good, especially when such commitment carries personal cost.
In the end, Barbarik's life offers a moral roadmap for leadership anchored in balance rather than dominance. The warrior who never fought becomes one of the Mahabharata's most profound teachers, reminding leaders that success is measured not by conquest, but by the stability they preserve, the suffering they avert, and the trust they leave behind. His encounter with Krishna affirms that moral authority must be recognised rather than imposed. Leadership endures when guidance is followed because it is right, not because it is powerful.
Views expressed are personal. The writer is the Chairperson of Bharat Ki Soch
Published by HT Digital Content Services with permission from Millennium Post.