As another year turns, humanity finds itself trapped in structures of its own making. The problems that confront us today are not accidents of fate. They are the cumulative outcome of choices taken with limited awareness and pursued with misplaced certainty. We design systems to simplify life, and they end up complicating it. We seek control and create conflict. We chase growth and generate inequity. We pursue comfort and invite ecological collapse. Like the legendary Chakravyuha, these structures are complex, layered, and difficult to exit once entered. We know how to step into them, but we have forgotten how to step out.
The image of the Chakravyuha from the Mahabharata offers a powerful metaphor for this moment. Abhimanyu knew how to enter the formation but did not know how to exit it. His courage and intent were never in doubt. What was missing was complete understanding. Today, humanity mirrors Abhimanyu’s predicament. We have entered complex systems of production, consumption, governance, and technology with clarity of intent but without sufficient wisdom about their long-term consequences. We now find ourselves struggling to disengage from structures that no longer serve us.
The ecological Chakravyuha is perhaps the most visible. Through deliberate choices, we prioritised extraction over regeneration and growth over balance. Natural resources were treated as infinite, and the costs of depletion were deferred to the future. Decade after decade, warnings were acknowledged but postponed. Climate conferences multiplied, yet patterns of consumption remained unchanged. We knew how we entered this formation. Cheap energy, rapid industrialisation, and unchecked consumption offered immediate benefits. What we did not prepare for was the complexity of exiting a system where livelihoods, economies, and aspirations became tightly bound to ecological harm.
Parallel to this runs the socio economic Chakravyuha. Economic models were designed to reward efficiency, scale, and speed. These choices lifted millions out of poverty, but they also concentrated wealth and power at unprecedented levels. Inequity was not an accident. It was a byproduct of systems that valued accumulation more than distribution and competition more than cohesion. Over time, these systems hardened. Social mobility slowed. Basic needs remained unmet for many, even as excess accumulated for a few. Technology, instead of narrowing gaps, often amplified them. We entered this formation believing that growth would automatically correct imbalances. We now struggle to find an exit that does not destabilise the very systems we depend upon.
The third Chakravyuha is less visible but equally consequential. It is the crisis of the self. In the pursuit of external success, we made choices that weakened our inner anchors. Identity became tied to roles, consumption, and visibility. Worth was measured by achievement and performative display rather than contribution. In this environment, young people increasingly struggle with purpose and belonging. Societies that invested heavily in economic and technological progress often neglected the inner development of individuals. The result is a generation that is informed but uncertain, connected but isolated. This is not merely a personal crisis. It has collective consequences, shaping how societies respond to stress, conflict, and change.
These three Chakravyuhas reinforce each other. Ecological degradation deepens inequality. Inequality fuels social unrest and conflict. A weakened sense of self reduces the capacity for restraint, empathy, and long-term thinking. Our responses to these crises often compound the problem. We add new layers of policy to fix policy failures. We deploy more technology to address problems created by earlier technologies. We chase faster solutions in systems that require patience. In doing so, we replicate the pattern of knowing how to enter but not how to exit.
At the heart of this lies a particular way of thinking. A belief that control ensures success. That intent compensates for impact. That complexity signals progress. This mindset has shaped global leadership for decades. It is now proving inadequate.
Indic thinking, and the wisdom of the Bhagavad Gita, offers an alternative framework. Not as doctrine, but as a way of engaging with complexity. The Gita begins not with certainty, but with doubt. Arjuna pauses on the battlefield, aware that action without understanding can be destructive. That pause is instructive. It creates space for reflection and mentorship before commitment. In a world driven by speed, this willingness to stop and examine consequences is itself a leadership act.
A central insight of the Gita is that action must be guided by responsibility rather than fixation on outcomes. When results become the sole measure of success, ethical boundaries erode. Much of the ecological and social damage we face today flows from this obsession. Decisions were justified by immediate gains while long term costs were externalised. The Gita redirects attention to the nature of action itself. It asks whether choices are aligned with duty and balance, not merely whether they deliver short term success.
The text also challenges the ego that often accompanies leadership. When individuals or institutions believe they are the sole drivers of change, they overestimate control and underestimate consequence. Sustainable action emerges when leaders see themselves as part of a larger process, accountable to systems they did not create and responsible to people they may never meet. This perspective is essential for navigating global challenges that no single actor can resolve.
Equally significant is the Gita’s recognition of interconnectedness. Actions do not occur in isolation. They ripple across systems, affecting seen and unseen stakeholders. This understanding is critical if we are to dismantle the Chakravyuhas we have constructed. Linear solutions applied to interconnected problems only deepen complexity. Exiting requires systems thinking grounded in humility.
Experiences from the grassroots consistently affirm this. Interventions designed without listening often solve visible problems while eroding invisible strengths. Communities lose social bonds, traditional wisdom, and agency when solutions are imposed from outside. What appears as progress in reports often translates into fragility on the ground. The lesson is clear. Understanding the field of action is as important as the action itself.
Indic thinking places restraint at the centre of sustainability. It recognises that taking less can preserve more. That prosperity without balance leads to collapse. That development without dignity weakens societies. These are not abstract ideals. They are practical principles that determine whether systems endure.
As the new year begins, this moment invites reflection rather than resolution. Reflection on the choices that created the ecological, socio economic, and inner Chakravyuhas we inhabit. Reflection on whether our actions today reduce complexity or add to it. Reflection on leadership as service rather than assertion.
Abhimanyu’s story is remembered for bravery. It should also be remembered as a reminder that courage must be accompanied by wisdom. Entry into complexity is easy when confidence runs ahead of comprehension. Exit requires awareness, guidance, compassion and restraint. The Bhagavad Gita offers that guidance, not by simplifying the world, but by clarifying how to act within it.
If global leadership can internalise this shift, the crises we face need not define our future. They can become the terrain on which a more responsible, reflective, and humane way of living takes shape. The new year then becomes not just a marker of time, but an opportunity to begin the long and necessary journey out of the Chakravyuhas we have created.
(The writer is a development expert, leadership trainer and author. He is currently the Member-HR of the Capacity Building Commission. Views expressed are personal)
