Chapter 27

"...like pearls on a string."

Interlude

The mansion of night has many rooms. Her chambers and secret passageways go on and on, dark and murmuring with the whispers of insects. Owls perch in her windows. The ceilings of night’s halls are hung with chandeliers of stars. No human foot steps in those rooms, no human voice is heard. They have all gone under, away, into the secret of sleep.

Only one room in all night’s mansion shines brightly, a golden room illuminated by fire. In that room of gold a human voice speaks, and human ears listen. All the denizens of night’s great house gather close to that room, listening with ears of feather and fur and chitin, but none dare enter.

In that golden room the old bard Ugrashravas squats, his beard wreathed with smoke, his eyes bright as embers in his dark ash-smeared face. His long lithe fingers move as he describes the world of before, the world beyond the walls of night’s house.

On the other side of the fire sits the young brahmana Astika, enthralled. He listens, utterly lost in the tale, and now and then he feeds the ever-hungry fire a piece of wood.

How long have they sat together like this? How long has this night waited, holding back the dawn?

“Do you see?” asks Ugrashravas.

“Yes,” whispers Astika. “I see. I see them all.”

In the dark corridors between the trees an owl calls out once.

“I see the two armies, and I see the chariot between them.”

“What else do you see?”

“I see the women standing on the wall of Hastinapura, watching from behind the battlements. The wives of all the Kauravas, and their young children with them. I see Draupadi approaching the battlefield. Why is she coming?”

“She is coming to wash her hair in Dushasana’s blood,” says Ugrashravas, “as she promised.”

“And I see Uttara too, Abhimanyu’s wife, riding in a wagon to Kurukshetra. Why is she coming?”

“She is coming to beg Abhimanyu not to fight.”

“Why?”

“Because she is pregnant. She is carrying their child inside her womb.”

Astika gazes into the fire. In the flames he sees them all, all the people of Vyasa’s infinite tale—flickering faces, masks of gold.

“Why?” he asks.

“Why what?” says the storyteller.

“Why this war? Why so much death for so little reason?”

Astika looks into Ugrashravas’ eyes.

Ugrashravas holds out his hand above the flames. They lick between his fingers but do not burn him.

“This war,” he says, “did not happen long ago. It is not going to happen in the future. It is happening now, here, eternally.”

“Where?”

“In you. Don’t you feel it? All these people are in you. In your mind. Yudhisthira is in your honesty. When you tell the truth, when you even think the truth to yourself, he is there. And he is also in your reluctance. When you stand between two things, unable to decide, then Yudhisthira is there. Arjuna is in your bravery, and your pride. Bhima is in your loyalty, and your anger. Nakula and Sahadeva are in your beauty. Draupadi is in you when the world hurts you and you do not hide but rise up again and again to face it. Duryodhana is in you too, in your envy, in the heat of jealousy that can overcome your mind if you let it. Karna is in you, Kunti is in you—they are all inside you, if you recognize them.”

“And they are at war in me?”

“Yes. Every day is a battle, Astika. When you wake up in the morning there you are, on the field of Kurukshetra, between the two armies like Arjuna. Who will govern you today—honesty or envy? Anger or forgiveness?”

“What if I do not wish to fight?”

“You have no choice. The war is there, whether you recognize it or not. All you have to choose is what to do with every moment of your life. Will you fight for what you know is true, or will you let the world’s waves overwhelm you?”

Astika watches the fire hold Ugrashravas’ hand.

“Every moment of my life…”

Ugrashravas smiles. The flames light up his eyes.

“Where is Krishna?” asks Astika. “Is he in me too?”

The storyteller’s smile widens. He reaches across the fire and presses the tip of his finger to the narrow bone where Astika’s ribs converge.

“He is here,” he says. “In your heart.”

He lifts his hand and gestures upward, to the place where the sparks vanish and the stars begin.

“And he is here. All around us.”

Astika sees the immensity of space, strewn with stars and planets and comets. He sees the arm of the galaxy, the milky flow of the Ganga, deep with lights.

“What happened to them all?”

“They waited,” says Ugrashravas. “The entire world waited for Arjuna to blow his conch, like you are waiting right now. The armies waited, the people in the city waited, the king and queen waited in the palace.”

“Did the king and queen know what was happening?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Vyasa offered Dhritarashtra and Gandhari sight. He offered the king vision to see the battle. But Dhritarashtra refused, and Gandhari did not take off her blindfold. ‘We do not wish to see our sons butchered,’ they said. So Vyasa gave Sanjaya, the suta, a gift: far reaching sight and far listening ears. Anywhere in the battle, he could watch what occurred and hear what was said. In this way the king and queen could know what happened without having to see it for themselves.”

“And Sanjaya told them everything?”

“Everything. He saw everything, and he told them everything.”

“What did he see?” asks the boy. “What did he say?”

Chapter 27

“…like pearls on a string.”

On the field of dharma, on Kurukshetra, the family of the world waited, ready for battle.

Duryodhana looked Westward across the flat plain toward the army of the Pandavas. Turning to Drona he said,

“Look, Gurudev, at how Dhrishtadyumna has arranged Yudhisthira’s army. I can see many archers equal to Arjuna and Bhima out there: Yuyudhana and Virata, Drupada, Dhrishtaketu and Chekitana, the valiant king of Kashi and the powerful king of Shibi. I see Yudhamanyu and Uttamaujas of Panchala; I see the son of Subhadra and the sons of Draupadi. On our side I see you, our guru, and Bhishma, Ashwatthaman, Vikarna, and all the good kings of the Earth, all ready to stake their lives for my sake. Our army, protected by Bhishma, is equal to this great task and theirs is not.”

Duryodhana raised his voice to a bellow that resounded off the sky.

“All of you, fight with Bhishma!”

Then the commander of the Kaurava armies, the invincible patriarch himself, blew on his war conch. The musicians beat their drums and blew their horns, while all around the sons of Gandhari sounded their conches. The commotion made Duryodhana’s hairs stand up all over his body. His skin tingled. He could already taste victory on the tip of his tongue.

In the gulf between the two armies, in the perfect emptiness like the still eye of a cyclone, Arjuna lowered his own conch. He looked out at the hosts of men assembled under Duryodhana’s banner. He saw his grandfather, his teacher, his cousins. He saw many grandfathers, fathers, teachers, sons, grandsons, and friends. He saw the boys he had played with as a child, the young men he’d sparred with as an adolescent. He saw his family.

Arjuna’s hand trembled, and the Gandiva fell from his grip.

“Krishna,” he whispered, “I see my own people out there. My limbs are weak, my mouth is dry, my body shivers and my hairs stand up. My skin is burning. I feel unable to stand. My mind is confused.”

Arjuna swayed, caught the edge of the chariot car, and sat down. His palms were slick with sweat. He felt feverish.

Krishna looked back at him with eyes full of concern.

“I’ve seen the bad omens,” said Arjuna, his voice halting, stuttering, “I see evil in fighting my own kin. Oh Krishna, I don’t want victory. I don’t want to rule. What use is kingship, wealth, and pleasure, when those for whose sake we want these things—our own family!—are here to kill us over them. I don’t want to kill teachers, fathers, sons, grandfathers, brothers and friends, not even for the three worlds, much less for a kingdom! What happiness is there for us in killing Dhritarashtra’s sons? How could we go on after killing our own kin? Even if they are overcome by greed and don’t see the great wrong, shouldn’t we see it and turn away from evil?”

Arjuna covered his face with his hands. The perfect warrior sat curled in his chariot like a frightened child.

“When the family is destroyed, Krishna,” he mumbled, “the family’s dharma is destroyed too. When dharma is gone the women become degraded, and the castes become confused. Then the family goes down to hell, the ancestors are deprived of their offerings. Without family dharma we will all perish and cook in hell eternally. Oh! Krishna, we have made an evil choice to kill our own people, out of greed for a kingdom! It would be better if the Kauravas would kill me in battle while I stand unarmed.”

Arjuna bent his head into his cupped hands. He could feel his heart heavy in his chest, like a piece of lead.

“What is this disgraceful weakness?” said Krishna. “This is not fitting for you, Arjuna. Don’t dither at a time like this! Let go of fear. Stand up!”

Arjuna refused to look up and meet Krishna’s eyes.

“How can I kill Bhishma and Drona?” he asked. “How can I fight against my own grandfather and my guru? If I win, and kill them, then I would have a victory soaked in the blood of those I love! I am overwhelmed, Krishna, I don’t know what is right anymore. What is my duty? Tell me what to do!”

Arjuna uncovered his eyes and looked at Krishna. There were tears there, waiting to spill, and his lips quivered.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered. “Even if I won all the Earth, I see no end to my sorrow. I won’t fight.”

Krishna smiled. His eyes glittered.

Then, beginning to laugh, he said, “You mourn those you need not mourn, Arjuna. Though your words sound wise they are not, for the wise grieve neither the dead nor the living. In truth, there never was a time when I was not, nor you, nor all these men gathered here, nor shall we ever cease to be. Just as the embodied one passes from childhood to adulthood to old age in the same body, so he passes to another body after death. Understand what I am saying, my friend: physical sensations of heat and cold, pleasure and pain are impermanent; endure them while they last. The one who is unaffected by these, to whom pain and pleasure are the same, is deathless, my Arjuna.

“The unreal never is and the real never ceases. That Reality which pervades all things cannot be destroyed. That is the same Reality which is embodied in you. The embodied self cannot be killed—it is infinite, eternal, imperishable—only the body it inhabits can ever be killed. Therefore fight, son of Kunti.

“He who thinks he slays and he who thinks he is slain are both deluded. They do not understand that the embodied self can neither slay nor be slain. It is not born nor will it ever die. It always was and will never not be. It dies not when the body dies. When one knows this, then whom can he slay?

“In the same way that a man eventually throws away worn out garments and puts on new ones, so the Reality of the self throws away a worn out body and enters a new one. This self is eternal, all-pervasive, motionless and primordial. Weapons do not cut it. Fire does not burn it. Water does not wet it. Wind does not wither it. This unimaginable, unchanging self within is ever untouched, so why should you mourn? Even if you think that the self is always born or always dies, what use is grief? For the one who is born death is guaranteed, as is birth for the one who dies—what is there to lament? All beings are like this: they begin in the unmanifest, have their middles in manifestation, and end by returning to the unmanifest. Where in this is there cause for grief?

“Some perceive this wondrousness, others speak about it, and others hear of it, but none know it in all fullness. The single Reality embodied in us all is beyond beginning and ending, beyond destruction. Do not mourn for any being, Arjuna. For a kshatriya like you, nothing is more appropriate than a war for dharma. Remember this and do not be troubled. Such a fight opens the door of heaven for you. If you shrink from this challenge now you will only attain evil and infamy, and for one like you whom all the world honors disgrace is worse than death. All will think you have abandoned the battle out of fear and will speak false and slanderous words about you, words that should not be spoken. If you die in battle you will go to your father’s heaven, if you live you gain the Earth. Seen with even vision, victory and defeat, gain and loss, are the same. Remember this and fight, and no stain will attach to you.”

Krishna lifted his hand and gestured toward the wide open sky.

“Arjuna, I have explained to you the deepest secret nature of the self. Now I will tell you how to realize this insight in action, so that you may release yourself from the bondage of karma. In this great work no effort is ever lost. No progress toward the goal is wasted. Even a grain of this wisdom protects from great fear. One who has this insight is resolved on the one, while the thoughts of those without this insight branch and divide endlessly. The ignorant speak very flowery words; forever propounding the Vedas without understanding their sense. Saying, ‘There is nothing but this,’ they make all kinds of rituals for material gain, in pursuit of heavenly and earthly rewards, always lusting after the objects of the senses. No deep understanding emerges from these empty rituals. The vision of the Vedas is restricted to the qualities of matter. Free yourself from the three qualities, free yourself from duality, from thoughts of acquiring this or keeping that, and rest always in the perfect freedom of your own essence. For one so liberated the words of the Vedas are as valuable as a well when the land is flooded with water.

“Listen, son of Kunti: you have a right only to your action itself, never to its results. Never act motivated by the fruits of action. Steady in yoga, act without attachment, indifferent to success or failure. Yoga is a tranquil mind. Action is wisdom’s inferior, so take refuge in wisdom. Those who act to gain the fruits of action are the lowest of the low. One whose wisdom is well-established leaves behind good and evil acts in this world, so establish yourself in yoga. Yoga is skill in action. Once wisdom is resolute in you, you will be free from death and rebirth. When your insight goes beyond the tangle of delusions you will lose all interest in all that has been heard and all that is yet to be heard. When your insight is fixed in the depths of meditation, forgetting doctrine, you will attain realization.”

“What is such a person like?” asked Arjuna. “How does one with realization speak? How does he sit down, how does he move?”

The Blessed One said, “When a person leaves behind all the endless desires birthed by the mind and is always satisfied in the self by the self, then he has steady wisdom. He has lasting realization. One whose mind is not troubled by bad fortune, who does not crave pleasure, whose desire, fear, and anger have evaporated, and whose meditation is steady—such a person is wise. One who neither rejoices nor despairs when meeting with pleasant or unpleasant circumstances—such a person is wise. One who, like a tortoise withdrawing his limbs into his shell, completely withdraws his senses from their objects—such a person is steady in wisdom. One who merely abstains fights forever against his desires, for the taste for sense objects remains. But one who has realized Supreme Reality loses that taste as well. The ever-active senses can carry away the mind even of one searching for wisdom. Restraining the senses by practice and discipline he should sit and focus on me—then his wisdom becomes steady.

“When one focuses always on the objects of one’s senses one becomes attached to them. Attachment breeds desire, and when desire is thwarted anger is the result. From anger comes delusion, and because of delusion insight is lost. When insight is lost one can no longer tell truth from falsity, and then one is utterly lost. When desire and aversion are both gone then, even though surrounded by desirable and diverse objects, the wise one rests always in tranquility. In tranquility all suffering disappears. As soon as the mind is tranquil, realization arises. One who lacks discipline has no wisdom, no focus, and without focus there is no peace. How can there be happiness without peace? When the mind is always running after the senses it steals away your peace, just like a high wind on the ocean steals away ships. So the wisdom of one whose senses are withdrawn from their objects is steady wisdom, well established and durable.

“The wise one is awake in what all others call night, and the time when all beings are awake is his night. Like the ocean who is constantly filled by all the world’s waters and yet never overflows, so the one whom all desires enter and is yet unmoved by them attains peace. The one who shakes off desires and acts without the sense of ‘I’ and ‘mine’ is free. This is the true heaven, Arjuna, available in this very moment. One who knows this is not deluded. Remaining in peace, even at the moment of death, he is absorbed into pure Reality.”

“Krishna, you confuse me,” said Arjuna. “You say that wisdom is higher than action, yet you urge me to take a violent action—to kill. Your message is mixed. I cannot understand it. Tell me this one thing: how can I reach the greatest good?”

“Since ancient times,” said the Blessed One, “I have taught two paths: the path of knowledge and the path of action. You cannot transcend action by abstaining from it. Abstention is impossible, for no one is without action even for the blink of an eye. Everyone is forced to act by nature. He who sits trying to resist temptation, while all the while his mind is occupied with thoughts of sense objects, is a hypocrite. But he who acts and does the necessary, yet without attachment in his mind, is a yogi. Action is needed even to maintain the body. So do your duty as you understand it, for action is better than inaction. Act as an offering, a sacrifice, without attachment to the result.

“The Grandfather Shaper made the world in this way: beings require food to survive, and food comes from the rain, and rain from the sacrifice, and sacrifice is only action. Act to maintain the world, and make every action a sacrifice. Whatever the renowned do, others copy. Whatever precedent they set is followed by others. Look at me, Arjuna. For me there is nothing at all to accomplish, nothing to gain or to lose, and yet I am never without action. If I did not act then all humanity would follow me and the world would fall apart, and so I would be responsible for the dissolution of all beings. While the ignorant act out of desire for the fruits of action, so those who know should act without attachment, only for the sake of the good of all. Nor should one who knows try to sway the ignorant; let them enjoy action and its fruits, while the wise one continues to act, steady in his insight.

“In all cases action is only the result of the interaction of natural principles. It is automatic. It is only the mind, confused by the sensation of ‘I’ which imagines: ‘I am the one who is doing this or that.’ The one who knows the truth sees only the same nature acting in myriad ways. Those who are deluded by the ego become attached to certain actions arising from nature’s principles, thinking they are the doer. The one who knows should not disturb those who are confused by their incomplete knowledge. Entrusting all your actions to me, meditating on the One, free from selfish desire, rise up and fight!

“Those who understand and follow this teaching are liberated, those who do not are lost. All beings act according to their nature. What will you accomplish by trying to restrain your nature? Better to do your own duty, however imperfectly, than to do the duty of another, even to perfection.”

“But,” said Arjuna, “what makes people do evil, as if forced by something outside themselves?”

“Desire,” said Krishna, “and anger. These are the products of rajas. Insatiable, all-destroying desire is your enemy. As fire is covered by smoke, or a mirror by dust, or an embryo by the caul, so the truth is covered up by desires. The senses, the mind, and the intellect are the home of desires which bewilder the embodied. So first slay this thing called desire, before it eats up all your wisdom. The senses control the world, and yet the mind is beyond them. Beyond the mind is the intellect. Beyond the intellect is what is truly real. Having glimpsed that Supreme Reality, kill the enemy within.

“I taught this yoga to the Sun. The Sun taught it to Manu, the first man, and Manu told it to Ikshvaku. The rishis of old knew this, but after millennia this yoga has been forgotten. I tell it to you again today, because you are my friend.”

“I don’t understand,” said Arjuna. “How did you teach the Sun? Were you there in the beginning?”

“I have lived many lives,” said the Blessed One, “as have you, my Arjuna. Many births. But I remember them all and you do not. I am without birth or death, eternal, and yet by my own enchantment I am born into the world. Whenever dharma is threatened and adharma rises, then I create myself. To protect the good and destroy the corrupt, to reestablish dharma, I am born in every eon.

“One who knows the truth of my divine play, who delights in my actions, is not reborn but comes to me at the time of death. Thinking only of me, relying on me for everything, many let go of fear and greed and anger and, burnt up by the fire of wisdom, reach me.

“However people seek for Me, in that way I welcome them. My path is everywhere. In this world people offer up sacrifices to the shining gods to gain success, and those acts yield their desired result. I created this, and I divided the Earth’s peoples into four, but even so I have never done anything at all. Action does not touch me, since I have no craving for its fruit, and so the one who truly knows me is never bound up with karma. Knowing this the wise of old sought liberation, yet still they acted according to their nature—do as they did: Act!

“‘What is action and what is inaction?’ Even sages are troubled by this question. Learn this path of action and you will be ever-free. You must know the difference between right action, forbidden action, and inaction. The distinction is subtle. One who sees inaction in action and action in inaction understands what I am teaching. He is a yogi, no matter what work he does in the world. A person who has cleansed his actions by removing the thought, ‘I do this or that and will gain this or that,’ burns up his karma in the fire of wisdom. One who has let go of all attachment to the fruits of action, who is self-contented, who is not dependent on circumstance, even while in the thick of action does, in reality, nothing whatsoever. Only his body acts, while he is without any sense of possession, and so no evil attaches to him. Satisfied with whatever the world gives him, beyond duality, without jealousy, constant in failure and success, he is never snared by his actions. When work is undertaken only as a sacrifice, as an offering, then all karma attaching to that work is burnt away. The offering is Brahman, Brahman is the oblation offered by Brahman into the fire which is also Brahman; when Brahman alone is known in all actions then Brahman is attained.

“Some offer sacrifice to the shining gods, others offer themselves into the fire of Brahman. Others offer up their senses into the fire of discipline, and others offer the objects of the senses into the senses themselves. Some offer up all the functions of their senses and their breath itself into the fire of yoga kindled by insight. Some offer up their possessions, others their penance, others offer yoga practice, while strict ascetics offer their studies and knowledge. Some offer inhalation into exhalation and exhalation into inhalation, seeking to control the vital breath. Others restrain their desire for food and offer only breath into breath. All who know the power of sacrifice are cleansed by it, whatever they offer. They enjoy the remnants of the sacrifice and go to Brahman. Without offering one cannot live happily in this world, to say nothing of the next. So sacrifices of many kinds enter Brahman. Realize that all of these are born of action and contemplate this and be free.

“The sacrifice of wisdom is better than the sacrifice of material things, for that which action accomplishes is only fully understood by wisdom. Know this: Through humble acceptance, through asking the right questions, and through selfless acts of service, the ones with wisdom will be persuaded to give you what they know, knowing which you will not again become deluded, and you shall perceive all beings in your self, and also in me. Even were you the most evil miscreant, this boat of wisdom would carry you safely over all wickedness. As fire reduces wood to ashes, so the flame of insight reduces all actions to ashes. There is nothing more purifying than spiritual insight. One who is fixed in yoga understands all this in due time. One who has faith and is fully devoted to knowing this truth finds supreme peace. One who is ignorant and faithless, who always doubts, is ruined. There is no happiness for him, neither in this world nor the next. Oh sweet Arjuna, one who has given up action through devotion and who sees beyond doubt is serene in his own self and is never bound by karma. So use the sword of insight, and with it cut away this doubt born of ignorance. Stand up.”

“Krishna,” said Arjuna, “again you praise renunciation, and on the other hand you praise yoga. Tell me unambiguously, which is the better of these two paths?”

The Blessed One smiled at Arjuna. The son of Kunti, unable to remain uneasy, found himself smiling in return. How great was the love between these two! It seemed as though time slowed to hold them, circling them like an eddy in a river.

“Both renunciation of action and selfless action lead to bliss, but of the two selfless action excels. The person free of both aversion and desire is always renounced. Uninterested in dualities he is free and the mind-built prison which entraps so many cannot catch him. In truth a life of selfless action is not in any way different from a life spent in quiet meditation. Though they outwardly seem opposite, both yield the same result. Both take one to the same destination. Yet for those who live in the world, embodied selves like you, a life of renunciation and meditation is difficult, while a life of selfless action, guided by yoga, is an easy and quick path to Brahman. One who practices yoga and is thereby in control of his senses, who goes beyond the mind and with purified insight sees that his essence is one and the same as the essence of all beings, is never entangled in nets of action and reaction. In all things—in seeing, hearing, touching, smelling, eating, walking, sleeping, breathing, talking, defecating, acquiring, even in blinking the eyes—one who understands reality knows that he is not the agent of all these actions.

“Just as drops of water slide off of a lotus leaf, so the one who offers all his actions as a sacrifice is never ever touched by evil. That one is a yogi, and for the yogi every action of the body, the senses, the mind, or even the intellect, is but an offering. One who is disciplined and acts selflessly is on this path of karma yoga and, renouncing all the fruits of actions, he receives only peace. One who does not walk this path remains in the snare made by his actions. Mentally giving up all results, the embodied self lives blissfully in this city of nine gates, the body, neither acting nor causing any action. God does not create the urge to action nor the action itself nor the action’s result; all these are born of a person’s own nature. God is not responsible for anyone’s action, good or bad. Humans alone are deluded because their insight has been covered up by ignorance. This same insight which reveals one’s true nature also reveals, like the Sun shining forth, the truth of God. Those whose minds are completely absorbed in this insight, who are fixed in it, who make it the foundation and the roof of their lives, they go where there is no rebirth.

“The wise see the same divine essence in an educated and cultivated brahmana, in a cow, an elephant, in a dog and a man who eats dogs. Insight reveals all these to be the same. One who sees in this way knows Reality and is no longer moved by pain or pleasure, good or bad fortune. When one finds the source of all joy in one’s own self then there is no need for external pleasures, which are sources of pain since they have beginnings and endings. A person who, while living in this world, can withstand the agitation born of anger and desire until he leaves his body is steady in yoga. Such a person is truly happy. The yogi who delights in inner joy has realized the truth. Such a person is no longer material; he is in Brahman. These seers, as well as those who live for the good of others, realize Brahman. Those who can tame their minds, who know the self and give up desires attain Brahman in this world and the next.

“Practice in this way: concentrate on the space between your eyebrows, make your inhalation and exhalation of equal length, restrain the senses, and give up anger. When you realize that I alone am the one who eats all the offerings, the one who enjoys all the fruits, that I am the mover of all the world and the friend of all beings, then you will have peace.

“Oh son of Kunti, it is not possible to become wise simply by giving up work. One who carries his responsibilities and simultaneously practices this inner renunciation of all results is a real yogi. Without renouncing selfish aims no one can become a yogi. For one who seeks wisdom, action is appropriate, then for one well-established in wisdom, silence is appropriate. When all attachment to objects and actions is gone, when all purpose is renounced, then one attains union with Reality.

“The mind can be your best friend or your worst enemy, and this depends only on you. For one who is in control of it, the mind is a powerful friend, but for the one enslaved by his mind, it is an equally powerful enemy. The one who has gone above the mind and is ever-peaceful, ever-full of devotion in cold or heat, in pain or pleasure, in praise and shame, the yogi who is satisfied with wisdom, who is of immovable resolve, to whom a clod of soil, a stone, and a lump of gold are all of equal worth, has achieved immersion in ever-present truth. Such a yogi, immersed in truth, is equally disposed toward friends and enemies, family and strangers, and treats everyone equally, be they saintly or evil. The yogi should seclude himself in a quiet place and live without possessions, with mind and body controlled, concentrating on the Self alone. He should make a seat for himself in a clean place, neither too high nor too low, and cover it with kusha grass, a cloth, and a deerskin. Then he should sit and endeavor to focus the mind on a single object, and thus practice yoga to purify all thoughts. Sitting straight and still, gaze fixed on the tip of the nose, with a quiet mind, vowing chastity and letting go of fear, he should focus his entire mind on me. By this simple means the yogi whose mind is serene goes to supreme peace. His ‘I’ is blown out like a lamp flame and he becomes one with me.

“Yoga is not overeating, nor is it constantly fasting. It is neither sleeping too much nor is it always staying awake. For one who observes moderation in food and play, in sleeping and waking, and whose actions are disciplined, yoga becomes a refuge from all suffering. When that one is fully absorbed in the Self and free from longing, then he has attained yoga. He is ever-steady, like a lamp in a windless place. Yoga is the name of that state of being in which all sorrow is dissolved, where the mind ceases its constant anxiety, in which the self is satisfied by itself alone. In this state of yoga he experiences unfathomable joy, beyond the comprehension of the senses. This joy can only be understood by the pure insight of realization, and once immersed in it, he never deviates from truth, nor will he strive for anything more since there is nothing left for him to gain, and even great and terrible calamities will not trouble him. To reach this state he must practice with determination, abandoning desires without exception and completely withdrawing the senses into the mind, the mind then into the intellect, and little by little he will become quiet. Whenever the mind wanders he should bring it back to his focal point. Gradually he will approach this bliss called yoga. In this way, fully disciplined and without any fault, the yogi easily realizes Brahman and finds boundless fulfillment. Then he sees the same divine essence—the self—in all beings, and sees all beings at one in the self. He sees only the same self everywhere. Arjuna, I am the self. He who sees me in all things and all things in me is never separated from me, nor I from him. He who honors me in all beings he encounters is always in me, no matter his actions. This one who sees all with equal vision is the supreme yogi.”

“Krishna,” said Arjuna, “you say: ‘Control the mind.’ But the mind is unstable, stubborn, fickle, turbulent and tenacious! It is easier to control the wind! I do not see how this can actually be accomplished at all.”

“You are right,” the Blessed One replied. “Yes, the mind is supremely difficult to master. Yet it can be done by steady practice. I agree: yoga is not easy to reach, but if you become self-controlled by means of diligent effort, it can indeed be attained. The mind has one useful quality: it frequently returns to whatever is familiar to it. So, if you show it often the bliss of meditation, it will go to Reality more and more readily.”

“Then,” said Arjuna, “what happens to a person who has faith but lacks discipline? What if he is unable to achieve the goal you set out, if despite sincerity his mind remains uncontrolled?”

Krishna, the Blessed One, smiled his world-bewitching smile.

“Did I not tell you, beloved, that no effort is ever wasted? No misfortune clings to one who does good. Even if the seeker falls off the path, he will be born in the worlds of the good and, after dwelling there for innumerable seasons, will return to Earth to be born in a happy home. Or he might even be born into a family of yogis! Such a fortunate birth is very difficult to attain. Then he will receive the wisdom of his former body and strive again toward his goal. Even without wishing it he will be carried along by his previous practice and, desiring yoga, transcend even the Brahman of the Vedas. So the yogi who perseveres for many births goes at last to the Supreme Reality. Such a yogi is greater than the ascetics, Arjuna, and greater than those who study scriptures, and greater than those who do rituals. So be a yogi. Of all the yogis the one who is faithfully devoted to me, who has merged his inmost with mine, is to me the greatest of all. With your mind absorbed in me, dependent on me alone, you will know me completely. All your doubts will vanish. To you I will explain this insight in full. Once you truly see what I am showing you then nothing more remains to be known. Amongst thousands of people, scarcely anyone sincerely strives for truth, and even amongst those who attain the highest, scarcely anyone truly knows me.

“My material nature is divided into eight: earth, water, fire, air, space, mind, intellect, and the sense of ‘I’. These are all my lower nature, which is different from my highest nature, the essence which sustains all things. All beings originate in this, Arjuna. I am the origin and the dissolution of everything. Nothing exists beyond me. This entire universe is strung on me like pearls on a string.

“Of all things I am the essence. I am the liquidness of water, I am the light of Sun and Moon. In the Vedas. I am the OM. I am the sound in air and the potency in people. I am the sweet fragrance of the Earth, and the splendor in the fire. In all living beings I am the life. I am the austerity in ascetics. I am the original seed of all creatures, son of Kunti. I am the wisdom of the wise and the radiance of the radiant, the strength of the strong, yet I am without desire. And I am desire too, when consistent with dharma.

“All states of being emerge from me. Sattva, rajas, and tamas are all in me, but I am not in them. These three qualities of matter, from which all manifestation is made, delude this universe. This universe does not recognize me, since I am beyond the qualities and eternal. This is my divine illusion, which is difficult to escape. Only those who take refuge in me go beyond my illusion. Those who do evil, the worst people, do not seek me and remain in the realm of the asuras. Among those who do good there are four kinds who worship me: those in distress, those seeking some good fortune, those seeking knowledge, and the one of clear insight. Of these the last type is dearest to me, just as I am to him. All of them are noble, but to me the man of insight is my own Self, and he always abides in me. After many, many births such a person takes refuge in me, thinking, ‘Krishna is everything.’ A great soul like that is hard to find.

“People who are carried away by all their desires resort to other gods, praying for whatever they want, using diverse rites and rituals. Whenever someone wishes to worship any form with faith, I make his faith resolute, no matter who he is. Then, because of his faith, his prayers are answered, for the answers all come from me. But the reward of those without insight is finite. Those who worship the gods go to the gods, while my worshippers come to me.

“The deluded think that I have manifested; they do not perceive my highest state: the immutable, the incomparable. I am not manifest at all, but I am veiled by my divine illusion, and so they do not recognize me, the eternal. I know those who have departed and those who live, and I know all those who are yet to come, but no one knows me. At birth all beings become deluded by the power of duality, by the force of desire and aversion. But those who strive virtuously are liberated from the duality delusion and worship me with steady vows. Those who seek liberation, depending always on me, know Brahman, the fullness of the self and all of karma. They know me as nature, as God, as the greatest sacrifice. They hold me in their thoughts, even at the moment of death.”

“What is Brahman?” asked Arjuna. “What is the self? What is nature? What is karma? What is God? What is Supreme Sacrifice?”

All the world forgotten, they gazed into each other. For Arjuna there was nothing left but Krishna. For Krishna there was nothing but Arjuna.

“Brahman,” said the Blessed One, “is that which never perishes. The self is that same Brahman in the individual. The creative force which brings all things into existence is called karma. Nature is the field of all finite things. God is that by which everything is filled. The greatest sacrifice is this body which you see before you.

“Whatever a person thinks of at the moment of death, there he will go after death. One who dies while thinking of me immediately comes to me. So, Arjuna, while you fight, think always of me, offer up every action to me, and if you are killed you will only be coming back to me. When the mind is steady like this, disciplined and made serene by yoga, and turns not elsewhere but remains fixed on the Supreme Spirit, then the one to whom that mind belongs goes to that Spirit. One who always contemplates the primordial sage, the teacher, smaller than an atom, of indescribable form, bright like the Sun, without darkness, goes to Him.

“I will describe briefly the path by which the ascetics reach that which the Vedas call imperishable. Closing the nine gates of the body, keeping the mind in the heart and the vital breath in the head, fixed in concentration, repeating OM and meditating on me, they depart, leaving the body behind, and reach the Supreme.

“One who thinks of me constantly, whose mind never wavers, whose devotion is ever-flowing, finds me very easy to reach. All those who reach me, by whatever means, do not again enter the world of birth, which is finite and full of sorrow. All the worlds, my Arjuna, even unto the world of the Grandfather Shaper, are places of birth and death. Only the one who reaches me is never reborn. One of the Shaper’s days lasts a thousand eons, and one of his nights another thousand. When his day begins all manifestation pours out of the unmanifest, and when his night comes it all dissolves back into the unmanifest again. All the beings come into manifestation and dissolve back into the unmanifest over and over again. But there is a deeper unmanifest state beyond the unmanifest, which never pours out or dissolves back, which is eternal. This is my home. Those who go the path of fire, in sunlight, by day, in the waxing fortnight, while the Sun travels North, go to Brahman and are not reborn. Those who go the path of smoke, in moonlight, by night, in the waning fortnight, while the Sun travels South, are reborn. The yogi, knowing all this, transcends all—the fruits of scripture, sacrifice, austerity, and charity—and goes at last to the primal abode.”

Krishna’s voice was music now.

“Listen, Arjuna,” he said. “I am going to tell you a secret which combines wisdom and clarity. This is my supreme knowledge, my greatest secret. It is the greatest purifier, easy to understand and to practice, and—” here the Blessed One grinned his old, mischievous grin “—it never goes out of style. People without faith in this do not reach me and go round and round the wheel of birth and death. All of creation is pervaded by me in my unmanifest aspect. All beings are in me; I am not in them. And yet, the beings do not exist in me—look at my magic trick! My essence is the source of all beings. It sustains them, yet does not dwell in them. Just like the wind moves everywhere and yet is always contained within space, so all beings are within me. All beings return to my primordial nature at the end of a kalpa, and at the beginning of a kalpa I send them forth again. At rest in my primordial nature I send them forth again and again, the entire multitude of myriad beings. These actions do not bind me. I sit apart, unattached. By my will material nature produces all things, and from this the universe evolves.

“Those of unclear sight despise me when I wear human form, not knowing that I am the Lord of all. Their hopes are vain, their actions vain, their knowledge all in vain, and they abide in deep delusion. But great selves, whose nature is divine, focus on me, recognizing me as the eternal origin of all beings. Singing my name, seeking me sincerely, cherishing me as the most precious thing, they worship me. Others, offering up the wisdom-sacrifice, where the beast to be sacrificed is the sense of separateness, worship me as the one and the many, diversely manifested, facing in all directions.

“I am the sacrifice. I am the intention. I am the offering, the medicine, and the invocation. I am the ghee that is poured into the fire, and I am the fire, and I am the act of pouring itself. I am the father of all and the mother of all. I am the support of the universe, the grandfather, the object of insight, the purifier. I am OM. I am the Vedas. I am the goal, the sustainer, the Lord, the witness, the abode, the refuge, the friend, the origin, the foundation and the dissolution, the house of treasures and the imperishable seed. I am the source of heat. I am the source of rain. I am both immortality and death, existence and nothingness.

“Those who know the Vedas drink soma and worship with rituals, seeking heavenly worlds, and indeed they go to Indra’s heaven. And once their accrued merit is spent they return here to Earth. Those whose thought is of me, who are devoted to me, for them I provide all they need. Even those who worship the gods with faith also worship me in ignorance, for I am the only enjoyer and lord of all sacrifices. But they don’t really know me, and so they fall. Those who are devoted to the gods go to the gods; those who are devoted to their ancestors go to their ancestors; those who are devoted to elemental spirits go to them; and those who are devoted to me come surely to me.

“I enjoy any offering given with a pure heart, be it a leaf, a flower, a fruit, even a little water. My dear Arjuna, whatever you do, whatever you eat, whatever you offer, whatever you give, whatever penance you perform, do it all as an offering to me. You will absolutely be freed from the snares of actions and their results, good or bad, and, with your mind yoked to yoga, you will come to me.

“I am the same self in all beings. I dislike no one, nor do I prefer anyone. Yet, those who worship me with devotion are in me, and I am also in them. Even if the most sinful person worships me with sincere devotion, he should be regarded as good, for he has the right idea. Soon he will become gentle and go to eternal peace. No devotee of mine is ever lost. All who take refuge in me, even the lowly and the scorned, women, vaishyas, and shudras, all reach the Supreme. Devotion is all that is needed. How easy it would be for a brahmana or a royal seer—if they too devote themselves to me! Like grains of salt tossed into the ocean, all distinctions between people dissolve when they become united with me through their devotion. Now that you find yourself in this transient and tragic world, devote yourself to me.

“Listen to me, beloved. Neither the shining gods nor the great rishis know my origin, for I am their very source. One who knows me as birthless and beginningless, the Lord of all the universe, is free from delusion and released from all evil. Intellect, insight, clarity, patience, sincerity, self-restraint, tranquility, pleasure, pain, birth, death, fear and fearlessness, nonviolence, equal-vision, satisfaction, austerity, generosity, fame and infamy—all these diverse states of being arise from me alone. The seven seers of old and the ancestors of humanity all came from me. One who knows this is united with me. Of this there is no doubt. I am the origin of all. All flows out of me. And knowing this, the wise worship me with sweet affection. Those who spend their lives absorbed in me, teaching each other about me, speaking my name always, are content and joyful. To those who worship me with love I give the gift of yoga, by which means they come quickly to me. Out of my love for them I remove the darkness of ignorance by lighting the bright lamp of insight.”

“Yes,” said Arjuna. “I see you clearly now. You are all you say you are. All the sages have said so, and now you yourself have told me. I have no doubt that you are the Supreme Being, the God of gods, the Lord of this universe. Tell me, how can I know you? Please, describe to me your manifestations. Your words are nectar to me.”

The Blessed One said, “Yes, I will tell you of manifestations. I will tell you only of those you deem important, for there is no end to my abundance. I am the beginning, middle, and end of all things. Of the Adityas I am Vishnu. Of the lights I am the Sun. Of the nighttime lights I am the Moon. Of the Vedas I am the Sama. Of the gods I am Indra. Of the senses I am the mind. In all beings I am pure awareness. Of the Rudras I am Shiva. Of the spirits I am Kubera. Of the Vasus I am fire. Of the mountains I am Meru. Among all priests I am Brihaspati, the guru of the gods. Among all army commanders I am Skanda, the six-faced war god. Among all the waters I am the ocean. Of the rishis I am Bhrigu. Of the words I am OM. Of all the sacrifices I am silent repetition. Of all the fixed things I am the Himalaya. Among all trees I am the sacred fig. Among the exalted I am Narada. Among the gandharvas I am Chitaratha. Among the perfect I am Kapila the wise. Among all horses I am Indra’s Ucchaishravas, born of amrit, and among elephants I am Airavata. Of weapons I am the thunderbolt and of cows I am the wish-fulfilling cow. I am the god of desire, and among snakes I am Vasuki. Among nagas I am Ananta. Among the water beings I am Varuna, and of all the ancestors I am Aryaman. Of all those who subdue this world I am Yama. Of the asuras I am Prahlada. Of the reckoners I am Time. Of beasts I am the lion and of birds I am Garuda. Of all those that cleanse I am the wind, of all warriors I am Rama, of all the sea monsters I am the makara, and of all rivers I am Mother Ganga. Of creations I am the beginning, middle, and end. Of all knowledge I am self-knowledge. In those who debate I am reason. Of all the letters I am the first. Of compounds I am the dvandva. I alone am time without end. I am the giver of all fruits, facing in all directions. I am all-consuming death and the womb of things yet to come. Among the qualities of women I am fame, abundance, speech, memory, wisdom, courage, and patience. Of all the chants I am the Brihatsaman, dedicated to Indra, and of the meters I am the Gayatri. Of months I am the Deer’s Head month of autumn, and of seasons I am the spring, flourishing with flowers. I am the gambling of the crooked and the splendor of the splendid. I am victory, I am effort. I am the truth of the sincere. Of the Vrishnis I am Krishna. Of the Pandavas I am Arjuna. Of the sages I am Vyasa. Of the poets I am Ushana. Of all punishers I am the rod, and I guide those who seek victory. Of secrets I am silence, and I am the wisdom of the wise. I am the seed of all creatures. Yes, Arjuna, there is nothing that could exist without me. There is no end to my wonders. Whatever being is glorious, prosperous, or powerful, know that the glory, prosperity, and power are but a little portion of my light. But what good are all these details to you, my Arjuna? I exist. I support all creation with only a fraction of myself.”

“Yes,” said Arjuna, his body shivering with awe, “yes, you are all of this, Krishna. My doubts are gone. If it is possible for me, I want to see you as you really are.”

Krishna looked at Arjuna from the depths of a bottomless pool of affection.

“You will not be able to see me with your mortal eyes,” he said. “I give you divine eyes. Look!”