Abhijit Chaliha
“On the battlefield of Kurukshetra…Arjuna, the most valiant of the Pandavas, is suddenly beset by anxiety.” This line from Priya Arora’s Life Is a Battlefield sets the tone for a book that reminds us that even those we idolize as strong and unshakable are not immune to moments of weakness. What we call mental health struggles today are not new afflictions; they have always existed, hidden within the lives of even the mightiest. In the turmoil of the Mahabharata, Arora reveals something startlingly human: a warrior paralyzed by emotion, caught in the same whirlwind of panic and despair that so many people face in their own lives. The image of Arjuna, overcome by anguish at the thought of fighting his own kin, is stripped of mythology and placed firmly in the realm of human experience. In one sweeping passage, the grandeur of epic battle dissolves into the trembling honesty of a panic attack. His vulnerability makes him relatable, his despair modern. It is this raw humanness that gives Krishna’s words their timeless power, not just as lofty scripture, but as guidance for anyone grappling with confusion and fear. Arora’s retelling is not limited to ancient characters and their dilemmas. She expands her narrative to include reflections from mathematicians, philosophers, and ordinary individuals, creating a tapestry of stories that collectively explore resilience and selflessness. Through these interwoven voices, the book becomes more than a commentary on the Gita; it becomes an exploration of the will to endure. Each chapter unfolds like a conversation between past and present, reminding readers that life’s burdens and uncertainties are a shared human inheritance. What makes the book especially relevant is its honesty about suffering. It does not promise easy answers or miracle cures. Arora is clear-eyed about the role of spirituality. “Spirituality cannot pre-empt trouble or cure life’s travails, but it most surely negates the effect misfortune has on your mind. It will not heal your cancer, make your tax bill magically disappear or prevent you from being slapped with a parking ticket,” she writes. In that single statement lies the essence of her work: spirituality cannot erase hardship, but it can reshape the way we endure it. The power of belief, in her view, is not to deny reality but to make it more bearable. Every chapter begins with a verse from the Bhagavad Gita, tying the anxieties of the present to the wisdom of the past. The verses are not used as distant mantras but as touchstones that illuminate struggles familiar to any modern reader. The tone of the book is neither didactic nor heavy; instead, it is gentle and reflective, more like a mirror held up to the reader’s own experiences. By drawing Arjuna closer to us, Arora dismantles the illusion that heroes are immune to fear and doubt. The book also confronts a societal truth: that mental health struggles are often masked, overlooked, or dismissed. In acknowledging the universality of vulnerability, it reduces the stigma of weakness. No one, Arora reminds us—not even Arjuna on the battlefield—escapes the weight of emotional struggle. That reminder is what makes Life Is a Battlefield resonate so strongly in an age where anxiety and uncertainty are everyday companions. Rather than offering escape, the book urges readers to face inner turmoil with awareness. It is not about transcending the battlefield of life but about standing firmly within it, armed with clarity and resilience. By blending ancient wisdom with modern reflection, Arora crafts a narrative that comforts without delusion, and encourages without sermonizing. Life Is a Battlefield is ultimately less about transcendence and more about endurance. It does not shy away from the reality of human suffering but insists on the strength to confront it. In doing so, it reaffirms what the story of Arjuna has always whispered across centuries: that the truest measure of strength is not the absence of fear but the ability to rise despite it.
