Don’t Blame the Snake If You Fed It - Chanakya on Self-Betrayal

There’s a moment, usually after the third or fourth betrayal, when you’re no longer shocked. You’re just tired. Tired of playing surprised when someone shows you, again, who they are. Tired of being the one who knew better and still chose not to act on it. And it’s in that raw, unfiltered space where ancient wisdom lands hardest. Chanakya, the political philosopher who didn’t bother sugarcoating anything, once said: “Don’t blame the snake if you fed it.”It sounds brutal. But it’s also the kind of truth that stops you mid-scroll. Because deep down, you know what it means.

• "He who is overly attached to his family members experiences fear and sorrow, for the root of all grief is attachment."

We all meet “snakes” in our lives, people who deceive, manipulate, exploit. They charm their way in, take what they want, and vanish when the damage is done. But Chanakya isn’t warning us about them. He’s pointing at us, the ones who saw the signs and still stayed. The ones who offered trust after trust, even when the pattern was clear.
Because betrayal doesn’t start with the bite. It starts with the decision to ignore your gut. To keep giving when something in you knew: this isn’t safe anymore.

• “Before you start some work, always ask yourself three questions: Why am I doing it, what the results might be, and will I be successful? Only when you think deeply and find satisfactory answers to these questions, go ahead.”

Let’s be honest. We don’t feed snakes because we don’t see the danger. We feed them because we hope this time it will be different. Because it’s easier to pretend than to confront. Because we confuse loyalty with silence.
Because we don’t want to look like the one who “gave up.” So we betray ourselves, bit by bit. We bend, overextend, explain, forgive too soon. And then we act stunned when it ends exactly the way we knew it would.

• “Test a servant while in duty, a relative in difficulty, a friend in adversity, and a wife in misfortune.”

It is. But trust without discernment is not virtue, it’s recklessness. And in the name of being “good,” many people sacrifice being wise. Chanakya’s version of strength wasn’t cold-hearted. It was clear-eyed. He taught that compassion must have boundaries. That trust must be earned, not given out like free samples.
You can be kind and still say no. You can be loving and still walk away. You can understand someone and still not allow them to hurt you again.

• “There is some self-interest behind every friendship. There is no friendship without self-interests. This is a bitter truth.”

We talk a lot about being betrayed by others. But what about when you betray yourself? When you stay in spaces that drain you? When you give people more chances than they’d ever give you?
When you lower your standards just to keep the peace? That’s the betrayal Chanakya is addressing. Not the snake’s nature, but your choice to keep feeding it.

• “Do not be very upright in your dealings, for the forest is full of straight trees, but none of them are cut. Crooked trees are left standing.”

You don’t need to become hard or cynical. You don’t need to build walls. You just need to notice who you’re feeding and why. You need to ask yourself if your patience is actually self-neglect.
You need to stop romanticizing people’s potential while ignoring their patterns. And most of all, you need to remember: protecting your peace is not selfish. It’s sacred.

People will be who they are. Snakes will do what snakes do. But once you see the pattern and keep participating in it, the hurt is no longer just theirs to answer for. Chanakya wasn’t judging you. He was freeing you.
Because the moment you stop feeding what hurts you, you start feeding what can finally heal you. And that? That changes everything.