Arjuna’s crisis arises at the moment when his outer role as a kshatriya and his inner world of affection, reverence, and moral concern collide. As he surveys the opposing army, he does not see anonymous enemies, but his own grandfather Bhishma, his revered teacher Drona, cousins, uncles, friends, and many others whom he loves and honors. The very people to whom he owes gratitude and respect now stand before him as targets in a war he is duty-bound to fight. This vision shakes him to the core, because the battlefield suddenly becomes not merely a political conflict, but a confrontation with the prospect of personally killing those he is bound to protect and revere.

Within this tension, Arjuna’s kshatriya dharma—to fight a just war and uphold righteousness—comes into direct conflict with his familial and social obligations, which forbid harming elders and relatives. He begins to question whether any victory gained at such a cost can truly be called righteous, or whether a kingdom won through the blood of loved ones could ever bring genuine happiness. His heart fills with grief and compassion, and his mind turns to the possible consequences of this slaughter, including the destruction of family bonds and the karmic burden of such acts. The very framework by which he has understood right and wrong starts to waver.

Overwhelmed by this inner turmoil, Arjuna experiences profound emotional and spiritual disorientation. His anguish is not only sentimental but philosophical: he wonders which duty should take precedence when sacred obligations appear to contradict one another, and whether any material gain can justify such devastation. This confusion culminates in a state where he can no longer act with clarity; he loses the will to fight, lays down his bow, and even declares that he would rather be killed unarmed than participate in the slaughter of his kin. His moral and emotional breakdown thus becomes the doorway through which deeper teachings on dharma, right action, and liberation can be revealed.