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đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀𑌮đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌭𑌗đ‘Œĩđ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌗𑍀𑌤𑌾 đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒŖ - đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰đ‘ŒĨ𑌮𑍋đ‘ŒŊđ‘Œ§đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œƒ

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀𑌮đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌭𑌗đ‘Œĩđ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌗𑍀𑌤𑌾 is a jewel embedded in the 𑌮𑌹𑌾𑌭𑌾𑌰𑌤: a dialogue between đ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘€đ‘Œ•đ‘ƒđ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘ŒŖ and 𑌅𑌰𑍍𑌜𑍁𑌨 on the battlefield of 𑌕𑍁𑌰𑍁𑌕𑍍𑌷𑍇𑌤𑍍𑌰. It speaks in the language of real life - duty and doubt, anger and empathy, ambition and fear - and then shows how to meet those forces with steadiness. Across 18 chapters it weaves together 𑌕𑌰𑍍𑌮-đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ— (wise action), 𑌜𑍍𑌞𑌾𑌨-đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ— (clear understanding), and 𑌭𑌕𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ-đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ— (devotion), not as competing paths but as one integrated way to live with courage and inner freedom.

To feel the Gita's urgency, remember where it appears. The 𑌮𑌹𑌾𑌭𑌾𑌰𑌤 tells of the Kuru dynasty and a long chain of injustice: the Pandavas are cheated in the dice hall, driven into exile, and targeted repeatedly, yet they still seek a fair settlement. đ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘€đ‘Œ•đ‘ƒđ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘ŒŖ goes as a peace-messenger and asks even for a small share, but pride and greed harden the Kaurava court. When dialogue fails and wrongdoing refuses correction, the conflict moves to 𑌕𑍁𑌰𑍁𑌕𑍍𑌷𑍇𑌤𑍍𑌰 - called 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮-𑌕𑍍𑌷𑍇𑌤𑍍𑌰, a land associated with sacred memory and the idea that righteousness eventually has consequences.

At that edge-of-history moment, Arjuna asks Krishna to place the chariot between the two armies. When he sees his teachers, elders, cousins, and friends standing ready to fight, his strength collapses. This is not a weak person's problem; it is the human problem: when duty collides with attachment, the mind can freeze. The Gita rises from this crisis like a lamp in a storm. It teaches that 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 is not a slogan for winning; it is the courage to do what must be done with a clean motive, even when it costs comfort, reputation, or personal preference. It reminds us that sacrificing small comforts for the greater good is not cruelty - it is maturity - when it is guided by conscience, compassion, and surrender to the Divine.

Chapter 1, 𑌅𑌰𑍍𑌜𑍁𑌨đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌷𑌾đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ—đ‘Œƒ, is therefore not "only introduction." It shows the battlefield outside and the battlefield within: Duryodhana's insecurity, the roar of conches, and finally Arjuna's trembling body and wavering mind. By naming these states openly - đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌷𑌾đ‘ŒĻ (despondency), 𑌕𑍃đ‘ŒĒ𑌾 (compassion), and the fear of wrongdoing - the text prepares you for Krishna's medicine in the chapters ahead.

Read this chapter as the doorway into a long inner apprenticeship. The "previous" story is the Mahabharata build-up itself: years of injustice, failed diplomacy, and the moment when avoidance is no longer possible. From this crisis, the Gita unfolds in three broad movements. Chapters 1-6 emphasize 𑌕𑌰𑍍𑌮-đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ— and the foundations of right action, while repeatedly returning to the imperishable 𑌆𑌤𑍍𑌮𑌾 so that doing your duty does not become an ego-war. Chapters 7-12 highlight 𑌭𑌕𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ-đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ— and the reality of đ‘ŒĒ𑌰𑌮𑌾𑌤𑍍𑌮𑌾: devotion, surrender, and the vision of the Lord that reshapes how you see yourself and the world. Chapters 13-18 deepen 𑌜𑍍𑌞𑌾𑌨-đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ— by distinguishing the knower and the known, tracing the play of đ‘Œ—đ‘đ‘ŒŖđ‘Œžđ‘Œƒ, and moving toward the union and alignment of 𑌜𑍀đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌤𑍍𑌮𑌾 with đ‘ŒĒ𑌰𑌮𑌾𑌤𑍍𑌮𑌾 in a lived, integrated way. But the doorway is here: before wisdom can steady you, the heart must admit, like Arjuna, "I do not know what is right."

𑌓𑌂 đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘ŒĒ𑌰𑌮𑌾𑌤𑍍𑌮𑌨𑍇 𑌨𑌮𑌃
𑌅đ‘ŒĨ đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰đ‘ŒĨ𑌮𑍋đ‘ŒŊđ‘Œ§đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œƒ
𑌅𑌰𑍍𑌜𑍁𑌨đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌷𑌾đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ—đ‘Œƒ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌓𑌂 - sacred syllable; a reverential beginning
đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 - auspiciousness; grace
đ‘ŒĒ𑌰𑌮𑌾𑌤𑍍𑌮𑌨𑍇 - unto the Supreme Self
𑌨𑌮𑌃 - salutations
𑌅đ‘ŒĨ - now; an auspicious start that signals readiness
đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰đ‘ŒĨ𑌮𑌃 - first
đ‘Œ…đ‘Œ§đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œƒ - chapter
𑌅𑌰𑍍𑌜𑍁𑌨 - Arjuna
đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌷𑌾đ‘ŒĻ𑌃 - sorrow; despondency
đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ—đ‘Œƒ - đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ—; the chapter's teaching lens/theme

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
Om. Salutations to the Supreme Self. Now begins the first chapter, called "Arjuna's Despondency Yoga".

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
The chapter opens with 𑌓𑌂 and 𑌨𑌮𑌃 - a bowing of the mind before the teaching. In the Gita, reverence is not about superstition; it is about getting the ego out of the driver's seat so the words can enter. 𑌅đ‘ŒĨ signals an auspicious beginning: a "now" in which the seeker is ready. The title 𑌅𑌰𑍍𑌜𑍁𑌨đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌷𑌾đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ—đ‘Œƒ is also a clue: even đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌷𑌾đ‘ŒĻ can become đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ— when it pushes you toward truth instead of pushing you into escape.

𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets the Gita as a path to liberation through Self-knowledge, where disciplined action purifies the mind and prepares it for true insight, aligning with the opening's call to clear the ego for deeper understanding. đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 𑌮𑌧𑍍đ‘Œĩđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ highlights the Lord's supreme authority and the soul's complete dependence on Him, emphasizing that right action and devotion are inseparable in this journey. Both perspectives converge on the essential teaching that confusion must be dispelled by clarity, and duty performed without attachment or fear. This echoes the Upanishadic guidance 𑌨 đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ 𑌮𑍍𑌰đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ đ‘Œĩ𑌾 đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍍 from the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 (1.2.18), meaning the true Self is never born nor does it die, encouraging the seeker to rise above transient doubts and act with steady awareness. Thus, the Gita invites us to move beyond mental agitation toward a steady, purposeful engagement with life, setting the stage for practical application.

Begin like a student, not like a debater. Before reading, pause for one minute, take a few slow breaths, and set a concrete intention such as: "Help me act with courage and kindness." Read a verse, underline one or two key words, and ask: "What is this teaching asking me to become today?" If the mind resists, do not fight it; notice it, and keep reading. The Gita is meant to be lived - one small decision at a time.

𑌧𑍃𑌤𑌰𑌾𑌷𑍍𑌟𑍍𑌰 𑌉đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌚
𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮𑌕𑍍𑌷𑍇𑌤𑍍𑌰𑍇 𑌕𑍁𑌰𑍁𑌕𑍍𑌷𑍇𑌤𑍍𑌰𑍇 𑌸𑌮đ‘Œĩ𑍇𑌤𑌾 đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¸đ‘Œĩ𑌃 āĨ¤
𑌮𑌾𑌮𑌕𑌾𑌃 đ‘ŒĒ𑌾𑌂𑌡đ‘Œĩ𑌾đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚𑍈đ‘Œĩ 𑌕đ‘Œŋ𑌮𑌕𑍁𑌰𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌤 đ‘Œ¸đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œœđ‘Œ¯ āĨĨ1āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌧𑍃𑌤𑌰𑌾𑌷𑍍𑌟𑍍𑌰𑌃 - King Dhritarashtra
𑌉đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌚 - said
𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮-𑌕𑍍𑌷𑍇𑌤𑍍𑌰𑍇 - in the field of righteousness; in a sacred place
𑌕𑍁𑌰𑍁-𑌕𑍍𑌷𑍇𑌤𑍍𑌰𑍇 - at Kurukshetra
𑌸𑌮đ‘Œĩ𑍇𑌤𑌾𑌃 - assembled; gathered (in verse: 𑌸𑌮đ‘Œĩ𑍇𑌤𑌾)
đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¸đ‘Œĩ𑌃 - desiring to fight
𑌮𑌾𑌮𑌕𑌾𑌃 - my people; my sons/party
đ‘ŒĒ𑌾𑌂𑌡đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌃 - the Pandavas
𑌚 - and
𑌏đ‘Œĩ - indeed
𑌕đ‘Œŋ𑌂 - what?
𑌅𑌕𑍁𑌰𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌤 - did; performed
đ‘Œ¸đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œœđ‘Œ¯ - O Sanjaya

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
Dhritarashtra said: O Sanjaya, when my side and the Pandavas assembled at Kurukshetra, the sacred field of dharma, eager to fight, what did they do?

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
This opening question already reveals Dhritarashtra's inner state. He calls Kurukshetra 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮-𑌕𑍍𑌷𑍇𑌤𑍍𑌰, acknowledging the place as sacred and connected with righteousness, but his very next instinct is division: 𑌮𑌾𑌮𑌕𑌾𑌃 ("mine") versus the Pandavas. The word đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¸đ‘Œĩ𑌃 shows that both sides are ready and eager to fight; still, he asks "what did they do?" because his heart is restless and hungry for reassurance. The verse quietly teaches that when attachment leads, even the vocabulary of 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 can become a mask.

The term 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮-𑌕𑍍𑌷𑍇𑌤𑍍𑌰 in this verse not only denotes the battlefield but also symbolizes the sacred arena where righteousness is tested, a nuance emphasized by đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ who interprets Dhritarashtra's question as revealing the deep moral tension underlying the conflict. 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ highlights that this tension is the prelude to the spiritual teachings that follow, marking the transition from the narrative of war to the discourse on duty and self-realization. This duality is reflected in the Upanishadic invocation 𑌤𑌮𑌸𑍋 𑌮𑌾 đ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ—đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¯ from the đ‘ŒŦ𑍃𑌹đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘ŒŖđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ• 𑌉đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍, which means 'lead me from darkness to light,' symbolizing the movement from ignorance and attachment-exemplified by Dhritarashtra's possessiveness in 𑌮𑌾𑌮𑌕𑌾𑌃-toward clarity and discernment. Recognizing this invites us to move beyond partiality and fear, preparing the ground for the practical guidance on inner victory that follows in the next paragraph.

Bring this verse into your own life by watching 𑌮𑌾𑌮𑌕𑌾𑌃 in the mind: "my side, my people, my story." You can keep love and loyalty without turning them into blindness. When conflict arises, try a simple practice: state the facts first, then ask, "What is fair if I set aside ego for a moment?" In a heated group chat or a family argument, pause before replying and ask, "Am I protecting 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮, or am I protecting my identity?" That one question turns the battlefield inward - and that is where real victory begins.

đ‘Œ¸đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œœđ‘Œ¯ 𑌉đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌚
đ‘ŒĻ𑍃𑌷𑍍𑌟𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌾 𑌤𑍁 đ‘ŒĒ𑌾𑌂𑌡đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌨𑍀𑌕𑌂 đ‘Œĩđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‚đ‘Œĸ𑌂 đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ§đ‘Œ¨đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ¤đ‘ŒĻ𑌾 āĨ¤
đ‘Œ†đ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒŽđ‘đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œ¸đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ—đ‘ŒŽđ‘đ‘Œ¯ 𑌰𑌾𑌜𑌾 đ‘Œĩ𑌚𑌨𑌮đ‘ŒŦ𑍍𑌰đ‘Œĩ𑍀𑌤𑍍 āĨĨ2āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
đ‘Œ¸đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œœđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œƒ - Sanjaya
𑌉đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌚 - said
đ‘ŒĻ𑍃𑌷𑍍𑌟𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌾 - having seen
𑌤𑍁 - but
đ‘ŒĒ𑌾𑌂𑌡đ‘Œĩ-𑌅𑌨𑍀𑌕𑌂 - the Pandava army (in verse: đ‘ŒĒ𑌾𑌂𑌡đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌨𑍀𑌕𑌂)
đ‘Œĩđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‚đ‘Œĸ𑌂 - arranged; formed in battle order (in verse: đ‘Œĩđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‚đ‘Œĸ𑌂)
đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ§đ‘Œ¨đ‘Œƒ - Duryodhana
𑌤đ‘ŒĻ𑌾 - then; at that time
đ‘Œ†đ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒŽđ‘ - the teacher (Drona)
𑌉đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œ¸đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ—đ‘ŒŽđ‘đ‘Œ¯ - approaching
𑌰𑌾𑌜𑌾 - the king
đ‘Œĩ𑌚𑌨𑌮𑍍 - words; speech
𑌅đ‘ŒŦ𑍍𑌰đ‘Œĩ𑍀𑌤𑍍 - spoke

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
Sanjaya said: Seeing the Pandava army arranged in formation, Duryodhana then approached his teacher and spoke.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
The verse shifts from Dhritarashtra's anxious question to battlefield psychology. Duryodhana does not simply stand firm; he looks, evaluates, and immediately goes to his đ‘Œ†đ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯. The key words are đ‘ŒĻ𑍃𑌷𑍍𑌟𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌾 (having seen) and đ‘Œĩđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‚đ‘Œĸ𑌂 (drawn up in formation): he scans the opponent's preparedness and his mind starts calculating. The Gita is quietly showing you a mind under pressure: when threat is perceived, the ego searches for reinforcement - strategy, reassurance, and authority.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ explains that Duryodhana's approach to Drona reveals a mind unsettled by fear and attachment, seeking reassurance from authority rather than clarity from truth. This reflects how 𑌰𑌾𑌗 and đ‘ŒĻ𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑍇𑌷 cloud judgment, as 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ emphasizes in his commentary on related texts: when the mind is dominated by desire or aversion, it pursues confirmation of its biases instead of objective understanding. The 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 (1.2.18) states 𑌨 đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ 𑌮𑍍𑌰đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ đ‘Œĩ𑌾 đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍍, meaning the true Self neither takes birth nor dies, highlighting that fear arises from misidentification with the transient. Recognizing this can help one move beyond reactive ego responses, preparing the ground for the mindful practices discussed next.

For practice, notice how you behave when you feel threatened. Do you rush to allies only to confirm your fear? Do you gather facts, or do you gather emotional ammunition? A healthier version of this verse is: seek counsel to become clearer, not to become louder. When you feel pressure, take one slow breath, name the fear ("I might fail", "I might lose respect", "I might be wrong"), and then ask for advice with an honest question rather than a hidden agenda. Try making it practical: write down what you actually know, what you are assuming, and what you need to verify; then talk to someone who can help you see, not someone who will simply hype you up. In school or work, this looks like asking for feedback early instead of waiting until panic; in relationships, it looks like clarifying intent ("Did you mean X?") before reacting. Over time, this habit turns conflict into learning and fear into preparedness.

đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘ˆđ‘Œ¤đ‘Œžđ‘Œ‚ đ‘ŒĒ𑌾𑌂𑌡𑍁đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŖđ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘ đ‘Œ†đ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ 𑌮𑌹𑌤𑍀𑌂 𑌚𑌮𑍂𑌮𑍍 āĨ¤
đ‘Œĩđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‚đ‘Œĸ𑌾𑌂 đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌰𑍁đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻđ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘‡đ‘ŒŖ 𑌤đ‘Œĩ đ‘Œļđ‘Œŋđ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡đ‘ŒŖ 𑌧𑍀𑌮𑌤𑌾 āĨĨ3āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ¯ - behold; look
𑌏𑌤𑌾𑌮𑍍 - this
đ‘ŒĒ𑌾𑌂𑌡𑍁-đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŖđ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘ - of the sons of Pandu (in verse: đ‘ŒĒ𑌾𑌂𑌡𑍁đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŖđ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘)
đ‘Œ†đ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ - O teacher
𑌮𑌹𑌤𑍀𑌂 - great; large
𑌚𑌮𑍂𑌮𑍍 - army
đ‘Œĩđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‚đ‘Œĸ𑌾𑌂 - arranged; ordered in formation (in verse: đ‘Œĩđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‚đ‘Œĸ𑌾𑌂)
đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌰𑍁đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ-đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘‡đ‘ŒŖ - by the son of Drupada
𑌤đ‘Œĩ - your
đ‘Œļđ‘Œŋđ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡đ‘ŒŖ - disciple
𑌧𑍀𑌮𑌤𑌾 - intelligent; skilled

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
O teacher, look at this great army of the Pandavas, arranged skillfully by Drupada's son - your capable disciple.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
This is a political sentence disguised as a report. Duryodhana says "look" (đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ¯), but he is not only pointing to an army; he is poking at a relationship. The sharper point is in the phrase đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌰𑍁đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻđ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘‡đ‘ŒŖ 𑌤đ‘Œĩ đ‘Œļđ‘Œŋđ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡đ‘ŒŖ: the commander on the other side is both Drupada's son and Drona's own disciple. Duryodhana is trying to stir the teacher's loyalty, pride, and old rivalries so that Drona will fight with extra intensity. The verse shows a very modern tactic: influence by framing the same fact in the most emotionally loaded way.

The verse's subtle psychological pressure is illuminated by đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯, who portrays Duryodhana as inwardly unsettled, seeking to manipulate Drona through the reminder that his own disciple now commands the enemy forces. This tactic exploits the tension between personal loyalty and duty. 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ emphasizes that attachment to ego and reputation clouds the mind, making it reactive and vulnerable to such provocations. He teaches that true 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 arises from acting with clarity and detachment rather than wounded pride. This is echoed in the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 injunction: 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠𑌤 𑌜𑌾𑌗𑍍𑌰𑌤 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œĩ𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧𑌤 - "Arise, awake, and learn by approaching the excellent ones." This call to awaken and discern guides us to see beyond emotional hooks and act from wisdom. Thus, the verse not only reveals a political ploy but also invites us to cultivate awareness that prevents manipulation, setting the stage for mindful communication and ethical action.

For practice, watch your own speech in tense situations. Do you share information, or do you choose words mainly to trigger someone - guilt, pride, insecurity, or anger? A clean habit is to separate "facts" from "hooks": say what is true, and drop the emotional bait. In a workplace this can look like quoting selectively to make a senior person angry at someone; in a family it can look like saying, "Remember what you did last time" only to reopen old wounds. Try a simple rule: before speaking, ask, "Am I trying to clarify, or am I trying to corner?" If you are a mentor or leader, notice when someone tries to pull you into their rivalry; respond from values, ask for direct facts, and refuse to be used as a weapon. That is how communication becomes aligned with 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 rather than with impulse.

𑌅𑌤𑍍𑌰 đ‘Œļ𑍂𑌰𑌾 𑌮𑌹𑍇𑌷𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌸𑌾𑌃 𑌭𑍀𑌮𑌾𑌰𑍍𑌜𑍁𑌨𑌸𑌮𑌾 đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ§đ‘Œŋ āĨ¤
đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ§đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘‹ đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌰𑌾𑌟đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚 đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌰𑍁đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻđ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚 𑌮𑌹𑌾𑌰đ‘ŒĨ𑌃 āĨĨ4āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌅𑌤𑍍𑌰 - here; in this (army)
đ‘Œļ𑍂𑌰𑌾𑌃 - heroes
𑌮𑌹𑍇𑌷𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌸𑌾𑌃 - mighty bowmen
𑌭𑍀𑌮 - Bhima
𑌅𑌰𑍍𑌜𑍁𑌨 - Arjuna
𑌸𑌮𑌾𑌃 - equal (in verse: 𑌸𑌮𑌾)
đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ§đ‘Œŋ - in battle
đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ§đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘Œšđ‘ - Yuyudhana (Satyaki)
đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌰𑌾𑌟𑌃 - Virata
đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌰𑍁đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌃 - Drupada
𑌮𑌹𑌾-𑌰đ‘ŒĨ𑌃 - great chariot-warrior

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
Here are heroic, mighty bowmen, equal to Bhima and Arjuna in battle - Yuyudhana, Virata, and the great chariot-warrior Drupada.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Duryodhana begins listing names to make the threat concrete. He says there are heroes 𑌭𑍀𑌮𑌾𑌰𑍍𑌜𑍁𑌨𑌸𑌮𑌾𑌃 - "equal to Bhima and Arjuna in battle" - which is both an admission and a warning: the Pandavas are not just two superstars; they are supported by formidable allies. The labels 𑌮𑌹𑍇𑌷𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌸𑌾𑌃 (mighty bowmen) and 𑌮𑌹𑌾-𑌰đ‘ŒĨ𑌃 (great chariot-warriors) are not decorative poetry here; they are battlefield categories that signal skill, reach, and reliability under pressure.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets Duryodhana's detailed enumeration of mighty warriors as an expression of his inner turmoil, where he attempts to steady his wavering mind by concretely assessing the strength of his opponents. This psychological process reflects the mind's struggle to find certainty amid fear and doubt. 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ elaborates on this dynamic by explaining how attachment to desired outcomes causes the mind to oscillate between hope and fear, seeking external validation rather than cultivating inner steadiness. This tension is captured by the Upanishadic invocation from the 𑌚𑌕𑍍𑌷𑍁đ‘Œļ𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍-𑌤𑌮𑌸𑍋 𑌮𑌾 đ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ—đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¯-which means 'Lead me from darkness to light,' symbolizing the aspirant's journey from ignorance and confusion toward clarity and calm discernment. Thus, the verse not only catalogs formidable warriors but also reveals the psychological battlefield within, preparing the reader to move from recognition of external realities to practical, composed action in the next step.

In daily life, read this verse as "name your reality without drama." If you are stressed, identify the real factors - deadlines, expectations, and resources - instead of spinning vague dread. Then take one concrete step: write a quick plan, ask for help early, or remove one distraction. Also respect your "opponent": an exam, a habit, a difficult conversation, or a strong competitor. Acknowledging strength does not mean surrender; it means you stop lying to yourself and start preparing with calm focus. A useful practice is a short "pre-mortem": imagine what could go wrong, pick the top two risks, and prepare for them calmly. That is a healthier form of battlefield intelligence.

𑌧𑍃𑌷𑍍𑌟𑌕𑍇𑌤𑍁đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚𑍇𑌕đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌨𑌃 𑌕𑌾đ‘Œļđ‘Œŋ𑌰𑌾𑌜đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚 đ‘Œĩđ‘€đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌨𑍍 āĨ¤
đ‘ŒĒ𑍁𑌰𑍁𑌜đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍍𑌕𑍁𑌂𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌭𑍋𑌜đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚 đ‘Œļ𑍈đ‘ŒŦđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚 𑌨𑌰đ‘ŒĒ𑍁𑌂𑌗đ‘Œĩ𑌃 āĨĨ5āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌧𑍃𑌷𑍍𑌟𑌕𑍇𑌤𑍁𑌃 - Dhrishtaketu
𑌚𑍇𑌕đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌨𑌃 - Cekitana
𑌕𑌾đ‘Œļđ‘Œŋ𑌰𑌾𑌜𑌃 - the king of Kashi
𑌚 - and
đ‘Œĩđ‘€đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌨𑍍 - mighty; valiant
đ‘ŒĒ𑍁𑌰𑍁𑌜đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍍 - Purujit
𑌕𑍁𑌂𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌭𑍋𑌜𑌃 - Kuntibhoja
đ‘Œļ𑍈đ‘ŒŦđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œƒ - Saibya
𑌨𑌰-đ‘ŒĒ𑍁𑌂𑌗đ‘Œĩ𑌃 - best among men; an outstanding warrior

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
Also here are valiant heroes: Dhrishtaketu, Cekitana, the king of Kashi, Purujit, Kuntibhoja, and Saibya - outstanding among men.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
The list continues, and the effect is cumulative: the Pandava side is not weak or accidental. Duryodhana keeps naming allies so the danger feels undeniable, and so the teacher feels the urgency. The phrase 𑌨𑌰-đ‘ŒĒ𑍁𑌂𑌗đ‘Œĩ𑌃 is a reminder that excellence exists across camps; ability is not owned by one "team." Seen psychologically, this is how anxiety talks: it piles up details to make sure the mind stays alert.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets Duryodhana's recital of allies as an expression of his inner turmoil and anxiety, revealing his attempt to grasp control over the uncertain battlefield by enumerating its key players. This psychological insight aligns with 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯'s teaching that the mind's attachment to victory is inseparable from its clinging to identity, which sows the seeds of eventual downfall. The compulsion to list and compare reflects the restless mind striving to overcome fear through analysis, a dynamic captured in the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 injunction: 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠𑌤 𑌜𑌾𑌗𑍍𑌰𑌤 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œĩ𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧𑌤-'Arise, awake, and learn by approaching the excellent ones.' This verse encourages active engagement and learning rather than passive anxiety, thus connecting the recognition of capable opponents in the first paragraph to the practical cultivation of steady, respectful comparison explored next.

For practice, this verse trains maturity in comparison. When you face someone skilled - a peer, a competitor, or a difficult personality - do not secretly hate them for being capable, and do not deny their capability either. A better response is: respect the reality, improve your preparation, and stay anchored in values. Make it concrete: identify one skill they have that you genuinely admire, pick one small practice you can do daily for 15 minutes, and track it for two weeks. Also watch how comparison shows up online: scrolling can turn into silent resentment; convert that energy into learning (take notes, practice, ask questions) rather than gossip. Used this way, comparison becomes growth instead of bitterness, and it keeps your mind steady even in competitive environments.

đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ§đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚 đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌕𑍍𑌰𑌾𑌂𑌤𑌃 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤𑌮𑍌𑌜𑌾đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚 đ‘Œĩđ‘€đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌨𑍍 āĨ¤
𑌸𑍌𑌭đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌰𑍋 đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌰𑍌đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻđ‘‡đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚 𑌸𑌰𑍍đ‘Œĩ 𑌏đ‘Œĩ 𑌮𑌹𑌾𑌰đ‘ŒĨ𑌾𑌃 āĨĨ6āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ§đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œƒ - Yudhamanyu
đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌕𑍍𑌰𑌾𑌂𑌤𑌃 - mighty; courageous
𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤𑌮𑍌𑌜𑌾𑌃 - Uttamauja
đ‘Œĩđ‘€đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌨𑍍 - powerful; valiant
𑌸𑍌𑌭đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌰𑌃 - the son of Subhadra (Abhimanyu)
đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌰𑍌đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻđ‘‡đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œƒ - the sons of Draupadi
𑌸𑌰𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑍇 - all
𑌏đ‘Œĩ - indeed
𑌮𑌹𑌾-𑌰đ‘ŒĨ𑌾𑌃 - great chariot-warriors

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
There are also mighty warriors - Yudhamanyu and the valiant Uttamauja, and also Saubhadra (Abhimanyu) and the sons of Draupadi; all of them are great chariot-fighters.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
This verse adds an important emotional layer: not only elders, but also the younger generation stands on the field. Names like 𑌸𑍌𑌭đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌰𑌃 (Abhimanyu) and đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌰𑍌đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻđ‘‡đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œƒ (Draupadi's sons) remind you that war is never only about ideology; it pulls families, children, and futures into it. Duryodhana's list unintentionally teaches empathy: behind every "side" there are lives, hopes, and people who did not create the conflict but will still be shaped by it.

The presence of young warriors like 𑌸𑍌𑌭đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌰𑌃 (Abhimanyu) and the sons of Draupadi highlights the deeply personal stakes of this conflict, a point emphasized by đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯, who portrays Arjuna's hesitation as rooted in his profound compassion and adherence to 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮. This emotional turmoil arises because Arjuna sees family and duty intertwined, making the battlefield a place of inner conflict as much as external war. 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets this confusion as 𑌮𑍋𑌹-delusion clouding clear perception-and advises that true clarity comes from realizing the eternal Self beyond transient relationships. This is echoed in the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 (1.2.18): 𑌨 đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ 𑌮𑍍𑌰đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ đ‘Œĩ𑌾 đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍍, meaning the wise soul neither is born nor dies, underscoring the need to transcend temporary attachments. Thus, the verse prepares us to understand how emotional bonds can obscure duty, setting the stage for practical reflection on responsibility in complex relationships.

In modern life, whenever you enter a conflict - in a family, a workplace, or a community - remember the "hidden Abhimanyus": the people who will be affected even if they are not speaking. Ask, "If I win this argument, who pays the price?" Make it practical by doing a quick stakeholder check: who is directly involved, who will be indirectly impacted, and what will change for them tomorrow? In offices, a power struggle between seniors can crush juniors who only want a stable environment; in families, an ego-fight between adults can become a lifelong wound for children. This question does not mean you avoid duty; it means you carry duty with responsibility and foresight. When you must be firm, be firm in method and soft in motive: protect what is right, choose words that reduce harm, and do not forget the humans involved.

𑌅𑌸𑍍𑌮𑌾𑌕𑌂 𑌤𑍁 đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘Œļđ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌟𑌾 đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡ 𑌤𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧 đ‘ŒĻ𑍍đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌜𑍋𑌤𑍍𑌤𑌮 āĨ¤
đ‘Œ¨đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ•đ‘Œž 𑌮𑌮 đ‘Œ¸đ‘ˆđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ¯ 𑌸𑌂𑌜𑍍𑌞𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ𑌂 𑌤𑌾𑌨𑍍 đ‘ŒŦ𑍍𑌰đ‘Œĩ𑍀𑌮đ‘Œŋ 𑌤𑍇 āĨĨ𑍭āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌅𑌸𑍍𑌮𑌾𑌕𑌂 - our
𑌤𑍁 - but
đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘Œļđ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌟𑌾𑌃 - distinguished; especially capable
đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡ - who
𑌤𑌾𑌨𑍍 - them
𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧 - know; take note
đ‘ŒĻ𑍍đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌜-𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤𑌮 - O best among the twice-born (addressing Drona)
đ‘Œ¨đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ•đ‘Œžđ‘Œƒ - leaders; commanders
𑌮𑌮 - my
đ‘Œ¸đ‘ˆđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ¯ - of the army
𑌸𑌂𑌜𑍍𑌞-𑌅𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ𑌮𑍍 - for information; for clarity
đ‘ŒŦ𑍍𑌰đ‘Œĩ𑍀𑌮đ‘Œŋ - I tell; I speak
𑌤𑍇 - to you

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
And now, O best among the twice-born, note the distinguished leaders on our side. For your awareness I will tell you the commanders of my army.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Duryodhana shifts from naming the opponent to naming his own anchors. The phrase đ‘ŒĻ𑍍đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌜𑍋𑌤𑍍𑌤𑌮 is respectful, but it is also strategic: he is appealing to Drona's identity and dignity so the teacher feels obligated to "stand up" for the Kauravas. He then says he will name the leaders 𑌸𑌂𑌜𑍍𑌞-𑌅𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ𑌮𑍍 - "for your awareness" - even though Drona already knows; it is really for Duryodhana's own reassurance and for setting the emotional tone. Notice the possessive 𑌮𑌮 đ‘Œ¸đ‘ˆđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ¯: when ego is anxious, it clings to ownership and control.

The use of respectful address such as đ‘ŒĻ𑍍đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌜𑍋𑌤𑍍𑌤𑌮 here reveals Duryodhana's attempt to secure Drona's loyalty by invoking his esteemed identity, a strategy that reflects inner insecurity rather than confidence. đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets this as Duryodhana seeking a dependable support amid his own distress, appealing to Drona as a pillar in a moment of vulnerability. Meanwhile, 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ teaches that attachment to egoistic ownership-expressed in phrases like "my army"-clouds judgment and undermines 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮, leading to reactive and unsteady decisions. This dynamic is echoed in the Upanishadic injunction from the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 (1.3.14): 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠𑌤 𑌜𑌾𑌗𑍍𑌰𑌤 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œĩ𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧𑌤, which urges one to "Arise, awake, and learn by approaching the excellent ones." This call to awaken and seek true knowledge contrasts with Duryodhana's clinging to superficial identity and sets the stage for the practical advice that follows on how to engage others without egoistic entanglements.

For practice, notice how often you use identity-appeals in conflict: flattering, pressuring, or guilt-tripping to get support. Try a cleaner approach: ask for help with truth, not with hooks. For example, instead of "If you really cared, you'd do this," say "This is what I need, and this is why." Also watch the phrase "my project, my team, my plan" - ownership can motivate, but it can also blind and isolate. A simple correction is to replace "my" with "our" where appropriate, and to replace control with clarity: define roles, share information, and focus on the work rather than on personal status. In family life, this looks like turning blame into responsibility ("What can we do next?"); in teams, it looks like sharing credit and taking feedback without defensiveness.

𑌭đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌨𑍍 𑌭𑍀𑌷𑍍𑌮đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚 đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒŖđ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚 𑌕𑍃đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚 𑌸𑌮đ‘Œŋ𑌤đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œœđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œƒ āĨ¤
𑌅đ‘Œļ𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌤𑍍đ‘ŒĨ𑌾𑌮𑌾 đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒŖđ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚 𑌸𑍌𑌮đ‘ŒĻ𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌸𑍍𑌤đ‘ŒĨ𑍈đ‘Œĩ 𑌚 āĨĨ𑍮āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌭đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌨𑍍 - you (addressing Drona)
𑌭𑍀𑌷𑍍𑌮𑌃 - Bhishma
đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒŖđ‘Œƒ - Karna
𑌕𑍃đ‘ŒĒ𑌃 - Kripa
𑌸𑌮đ‘Œŋ𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌂-đ‘Œœđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œƒ - victorious in assemblies/battles
𑌅đ‘Œļ𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌤𑍍đ‘ŒĨ𑌾𑌮𑌾 - Ashvatthama
đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒŖđ‘Œƒ - Vikarna
𑌸𑍌𑌮đ‘ŒĻ𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌃 - son of Somadatta
𑌤đ‘ŒĨ𑌾 𑌏đ‘Œĩ - and also; likewise
𑌚 - and

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
You, Bhishma, Karna, Kripa the battle-conqueror, Ashvatthama, Vikarna, and also the son of Somadatta - these are the leading champions on our side.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Notice the ordering: Duryodhana begins with 𑌭đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌨𑍍 ("you") - Drona - before naming the famous warriors. That is a psychological move: "You are central." It reassures the teacher and also binds him to the outcome. The list that follows - Bhishma, Karna, Kripa, Ashvatthama, and others - is Duryodhana's attempt to manufacture certainty by stacking "strong names" in his mind. The epithet 𑌸𑌮đ‘Œŋ𑌤đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œœđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œƒ (victorious in battle) is part of that: he is not only naming people, he is naming their reputation.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets Duryodhana's enumeration of great warriors as an expression of his inner despair and reliance on external support, revealing his psychological dependence on the strength of elders rather than his own resolve. This aligns with 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯'s teaching that attachment to power without true self-knowledge only deepens fear and instability. The verse thus illustrates how Duryodhana's confidence is borrowed, not grounded. The 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 (1.3.14) injunction 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠𑌤 𑌜𑌾𑌗𑍍𑌰𑌤 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œĩ𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧𑌤-'Arise, awake, and learn by approaching the excellent ones'-calls for awakening beyond superficial reliance on names and reputations, urging inner vigilance and direct realization. This insight bridges the psychological strategy noted in paragraph one with the practical guidance that follows, emphasizing the need to cultivate inner strength rather than depend on external authorities.

In practice, reflect on where you depend on "big names" instead of building inner integrity. In school, career, or relationships, it is tempting to borrow confidence from status and connections: "If they are on my side, I must be right." A better anchor is competence plus character: do the work, stay honest, and do not outsource self-respect to association. Build your own skill so you do not need constant reassurance, and build your own values so you do not need constant approval. And when you have mentors, honor them - but do not manipulate them into fighting your ego-battles. Seek guidance for growth, not for domination, and learn to stand on your own feet.

đ‘Œ…đ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡ 𑌚 đ‘ŒŦ𑌹đ‘Œĩ𑌃 đ‘Œļ𑍂𑌰𑌾𑌃 𑌮đ‘ŒĻ𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ𑍇 đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œœđ‘€đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌃 āĨ¤
𑌨𑌾𑌨𑌾đ‘Œļ𑌸𑍍𑌤𑍍𑌰đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘Œšđ‘Œ°đ‘ŒŖđ‘Œžđ‘Œƒ 𑌸𑌰𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑍇 đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌧đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘Œļ𑌾𑌰đ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌃 āĨĨđ‘¯āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
đ‘Œ…đ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡ - others
𑌚 - also
đ‘ŒŦ𑌹đ‘Œĩ𑌃 - many
đ‘Œļ𑍂𑌰𑌾𑌃 - heroes
𑌮đ‘ŒĻ𑍍-𑌅𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ𑍇 - for my sake
đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œ¤-𑌜𑍀đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌃 - having given up (concern for) life; ready to risk life
𑌨𑌾𑌨𑌾 - various; many kinds
đ‘Œļ𑌸𑍍𑌤𑍍𑌰 - weapons
đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘Œšđ‘Œ°đ‘ŒŖđ‘Œžđ‘Œƒ - equipped with
𑌸𑌰𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑍇 - all
đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌧-đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘Œļ𑌾𑌰đ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌃 - skilled in warfare

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
And there are many other heroes too, ready to risk their lives for my sake, equipped with many weapons and skilled in war.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
This verse reveals the ego-language of leadership: 𑌮đ‘ŒĻ𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ𑍇 - "for my sake." Duryodhana is proud that many warriors are ready to risk their lives to protect his ambition, and he wants Drona to feel surrounded by that loyalty. The phrase 𑌨𑌾𑌨𑌾đ‘Œļ𑌸𑍍𑌤𑍍𑌰đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘Œšđ‘Œ°đ‘ŒŖđ‘Œžđ‘Œƒ paints a picture of a fully armed force; but the emotional center is not duty - it is personal ownership. The Gita is quietly exposing a pattern that repeats everywhere: when ego is at the center, people become instruments and "sacrifice" becomes a demand rather than a freely chosen offering.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ highlights that Duryodhana's use of 𑌮đ‘ŒĻ𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ𑍇 reveals a confidence rooted in ego rather than in 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮, reflecting an inner turmoil masked by outward bravado. Similarly, 𑌮𑌧𑍁𑌸𑍂đ‘ŒĻ𑌨 𑌸𑌰𑌸𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌤𑍀 explains that this ego-centric stance blinds one to the higher purpose of action, which is liberation from attachment. This is echoed in the Upanishadic prayer from the đ‘ŒŦ𑍃𑌹đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘ŒŖđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ• 𑌊đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍: 𑌅𑌸𑌤𑍋 𑌮𑌾 𑌸đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ—đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¯ - "Lead me from the unreal to the real," emphasizing the need to transcend ego-driven motives. Together, these teachings show that when action is performed for personal gain, it fosters bondage, whereas true freedom arises when one acts with surrender to 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮. This understanding prepares us to examine in the next paragraph how leadership and followership must shift focus from self-centered loyalty to commitment to what is right and meaningful.

In modern life, ask: who is at the center of your projects - the mission, or your image? If you lead, do not demand loyalty to yourself; invite commitment to what is right and meaningful. Say it explicitly: "Do it for the work, not for me." If you follow, be careful of causes that mainly feed someone's ego; they often demand sacrifice without accountability. A practical check is to look at the culture you are creating: does it make people more honest, more responsible, and more compassionate - or more fearful and performative? Also watch your own language: when you keep saying "for me," pause and replace it with "for the purpose" or "for the people affected." When the center is 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 rather than ego, people can give their best without losing themselves.

𑌅đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌤𑌂 𑌤đ‘ŒĻ𑌸𑍍𑌮𑌾𑌕𑌂 đ‘ŒŦ𑌲𑌂 𑌭𑍀𑌷𑍍𑌮𑌾𑌭đ‘Œŋ𑌰𑌕𑍍𑌷đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌮𑍍 āĨ¤
đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌤𑌂 𑌤𑍍đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘ŒĻ𑌮𑍇𑌤𑍇𑌷𑌾𑌂 đ‘ŒŦ𑌲𑌂 𑌭𑍀𑌮𑌾𑌭đ‘Œŋ𑌰𑌕𑍍𑌷đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌮𑍍 āĨĨ10āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌅đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌤𑌂 - vast/immeasurable; also can imply "not fully adequate"
𑌤𑌤𑍍 - that
𑌅𑌸𑍍𑌮𑌾𑌕𑌂 - our
đ‘ŒŦ𑌲𑌂 - strength; army
𑌭𑍀𑌷𑍍𑌮-𑌅𑌭đ‘Œŋ𑌰𑌕𑍍𑌷đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌮𑍍 - protected by Bhishma
đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌤𑌂 - adequate; sufficient; well-contained
𑌤𑍁 - but
𑌇đ‘ŒĻ𑌮𑍍 - this
𑌏𑌤𑍇𑌷𑌾𑌂 - of these (Pandavas)
𑌭𑍀𑌂𑌅-𑌅𑌭đ‘Œŋ𑌰𑌕𑍍𑌷đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌮𑍍 - protected by Bhima

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
Our army, guarded by Bhishma, is vast; but their army, guarded by Bhima, is well-contained and sufficient.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
This verse is famous because it can be read in two ways, and both readings reveal something true. On one level, Duryodhana is contrasting scale: Bhishma's side seems larger. On another level, the word 𑌅đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌤𑌂 can also mean "not enough" - as if the fear leaks out: "Even with all this, I don't feel safe." The verse is a lesson in how insecurity can hide inside confident speech.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets Duryodhana's words as a candid admission of his inner turmoil: he perceives the Pandava army under Bhima's protection as đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌤-sufficient and formidable-while his own forces, guarded by Bhishma, as 𑌅đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌤, inadequate for certain victory. This contrast reveals his grief and fear beneath the surface bravado. 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ deepens this insight by explaining that external strength cannot dispel anxiety when the mind is clouded by 𑌲𑍋𑌭 (greed) and đ‘Œ­đ‘Œ¯ (fear); true confidence arises only when aligned with 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮. This is echoed in the Upanishadic prayer from the đ‘ŒŦ𑍃𑌹đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘ŒŖđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ• 𑌉đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍: 𑌤𑌮𑌸𑍋 𑌮𑌾 đ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ—đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¯-"Lead me from darkness to light." Here, darkness symbolizes ignorance and fear, while light represents clarity and inner security. Thus, the verse teaches that perceived external adequacy or inadequacy is ultimately a reflection of one's inner state, preparing us to examine the source of our own feelings of insufficiency in practical terms.

In modern life, you may have a strong resume, a large network, or a big team, and still feel 𑌅đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌤𑌂 - "not enough." That is a cue to check the inner driver. Are you serving a clear purpose, or are you chasing validation? A practical exercise is to separate "resources" from "security": build resources responsibly, but train inner security by reducing comparison and by doing the next right step without panic. Try a small daily practice: list one thing you can control today (effort, honesty, preparation) and one thing you cannot (others' opinions, outcomes), then put attention where control exists. If anxiety remains, ask, "What am I afraid will happen if I am not perfect?" and answer it honestly. This turns vague fear into something you can handle with clarity.

đ‘Œ…đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¨đ‘‡đ‘Œˇđ‘ 𑌚 𑌸𑌰𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑍇𑌷𑍁 đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒĨ𑌾𑌭𑌾𑌗𑌮đ‘Œĩ𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌃 āĨ¤
𑌭𑍀𑌷𑍍𑌮𑌮𑍇đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌭đ‘Œŋ𑌰𑌕𑍍𑌷𑌂𑌤𑍁 𑌭đ‘Œĩ𑌂𑌤𑌃 𑌸𑌰𑍍đ‘Œĩ 𑌏đ‘Œĩ 𑌹đ‘Œŋ āĨĨ11āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
đ‘Œ…đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¨đ‘‡đ‘Œˇđ‘ - in the approaches; in strategic points
𑌚 - and
𑌸𑌰𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑍇𑌷𑍁 - in all
đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒĨ𑌾-𑌭𑌾𑌗𑌮𑍍 - according to one's share/position
𑌅đ‘Œĩ𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌃 - stationed; situated
𑌭𑍀𑌷𑍍𑌮𑌮𑍍 - Bhishma
𑌏đ‘Œĩ - indeed
𑌅𑌭đ‘Œŋ𑌰𑌕𑍍𑌷𑌂𑌤𑍁 - should protect; support
𑌭đ‘Œĩ𑌂𑌤𑌃 - you all
𑌸𑌰𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑍇 - all
𑌹đ‘Œŋ - indeed

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
Therefore, stationed in all strategic positions according to your roles, all of you must support Bhishma.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Duryodhana ends his opening speech with a directive: "protect Bhishma everywhere." This shows his war-logic: identify the central pillar and ensure coverage. The word đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒĨ𑌾-𑌭𑌾𑌗𑌮𑍍 is practical - each person has a position and a responsibility, not a vague intention. Even in a chaotic situation, coordination matters; but this line also reveals something more personal: Duryodhana's confidence rests heavily on one elder, as if one pillar can hold up a shaky cause.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets Duryodhana's command to protect Bhishma as revealing his inner turmoil and reliance on a singular source of strength amid uncertainty. This overdependence on one pillar reflects a psychological need to anchor stability externally when internal steadiness is lacking. 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ complements this view by emphasizing that true firmness arises not from external support but from disciplined self-mastery and detachment, captured in his teaching 𑌭𑌜 𑌗𑍋đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌂đ‘ŒĻ𑌮𑍍 where he states 𑌕𑌾𑌲𑌃 𑌕𑍍𑌰𑍀𑌡𑌤đ‘Œŋ đ‘Œ—đ‘Œšđ‘đ‘Œ›đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œƒ-time plays and life passes-urging one to cultivate inner clarity and resolve. Thus, the verse highlights both the practical necessity of assigned roles and the deeper spiritual lesson that reliance on others must be balanced with personal equanimity, preparing us to translate this insight into daily practice.

For practice, take the healthy part of this verse: clarity about your role. In school, work, or family, ask, "What is my 𑌭𑌾𑌗 here - my responsibility?" Then do that cleanly, without drama and without delay. Also watch the unhealthy part: overdependence on a single pillar (a leader, a friend, a parent) to carry all stability. Build distributed strength: learn basic skills instead of relying on one expert, keep more than one trusted relationship, and create routines that steady you even when external support is absent. In teams, share knowledge and avoid single points of failure; in personal life, avoid making one person the source of all emotional stability. Real teamwork is resilience, not hero-worship.

đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œ¸đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œœđ‘Œ¨đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¨đ‘ 𑌹𑌰𑍍𑌷𑌂 𑌕𑍁𑌰𑍁đ‘Œĩ𑍃đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌧𑌃 đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌮𑌹𑌃 āĨ¤
𑌸đ‘Œŋ𑌂𑌹𑌨𑌾đ‘ŒĻ𑌂 đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌨đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œšđ‘đ‘Œšđ‘ˆđ‘Œƒ đ‘Œļ𑌂𑌖𑌂 đ‘ŒĻ𑌧𑍍𑌮𑍌 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌤𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌨𑍍 āĨĨ12āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ¯ - for him; for that one (Duryodhana)
đ‘Œ¸đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œœđ‘Œ¨đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¨đ‘ - producing; generating
𑌹𑌰𑍍𑌷𑌂 - joy; confidence; exhilaration
𑌕𑍁𑌰𑍁-đ‘Œĩ𑍃đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌧𑌃 - the elder of the Kurus
đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌮𑌹𑌃 - grandsire (Bhishma)
𑌸đ‘Œŋ𑌂𑌹𑌨𑌾đ‘ŒĻ𑌂 - lion-roar
đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌨đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ¯ - roaring; sounding forth
𑌉𑌚𑍍𑌚𑍈𑌃 - loudly
đ‘Œļ𑌂𑌖𑌂 - conch
đ‘ŒĻ𑌧𑍍𑌮𑍌 - blew
đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌤𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌨𑍍 - mighty; radiant with valor

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
To raise his spirits, the grandsire Bhishma - elder of the Kurus - roared like a lion and loudly blew his conch.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Bhishma sees something that many people miss in conflict: before strategy, morale matters. The verse says đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œ¸đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œœđ‘Œ¨đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œšđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œˇđ‘Œ‚ - "creating joy/confidence in him." A roar and a conch are not "noise for noise's sake"; they are signals that the leader is present and unshaken. 𑌸đ‘Œŋ𑌂𑌹𑌨𑌾đ‘ŒĻ is chosen imagery: a lion does not roar out of anxiety; it roars from grounded strength. Bhishma is trying to stabilize a wavering camp by offering a firm, audible center.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets Bhishma's lion-like roar and conch-blowing as a deliberate act to uplift Duryodhana's faltering spirit, transforming his inner despondency into renewed courage. This aligns with 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯'s teaching that fear and attachment cloud the mind, and that true strength arises from transcending ego-based distress. The roar symbolizes an inner awakening, a call to rise above confusion and doubt, resonating with the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 injunction: 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠𑌤 𑌜𑌾𑌗𑍍𑌰𑌤 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œĩ𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧𑌤 ('Arise, awake, and learn by approaching the excellent ones'). This verse thus highlights that Bhishma's external display of strength is inseparable from the internal battle against fear, setting the stage for the practical guidance on leadership and steadiness that follows.

In modern life, this verse is about responsible leadership. When a team is anxious - a family in crisis, a project under deadline, or a group facing exams - people look for a calm signal that says, "We can face this." That signal is not empty hype; it is steady presence, clear priorities, and consistent action. Be a Bhishma in small ways: speak calmly when others panic, focus everyone on the next right step, and do not spread anxiety through gossip or exaggeration. Confidence grows when someone holds the center.

𑌤𑌤𑌃 đ‘Œļ𑌂𑌖𑌾đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚 đ‘Œ­đ‘‡đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚 đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒŖđ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌨𑌕𑌗𑍋𑌮𑍁𑌖𑌾𑌃 āĨ¤
𑌸𑌹𑌸𑍈đ‘Œĩđ‘Œžđ‘Œ­đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œšđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ¤ 𑌸 đ‘Œļđ‘ŒŦ𑍍đ‘ŒĻ𑌸𑍍𑌤𑍁𑌮𑍁𑌲𑍋đ‘ŒŊ𑌭đ‘Œĩ𑌤𑍍 āĨĨ13āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌤𑌤𑌃 - then; thereafter
đ‘Œļ𑌂𑌖𑌾𑌃 - conches
đ‘Œ­đ‘‡đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œƒ - kettledrums
đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒŖđ‘Œĩ - drums
𑌆𑌨𑌕 - war-drums
𑌗𑍋𑌮𑍁𑌖𑌾𑌃 - horns/trumpets (gOmuKha-type instruments)
𑌸𑌹𑌸𑌾 - suddenly; all at once
𑌏đ‘Œĩ - indeed
đ‘Œ…đ‘Œ­đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œšđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ¤ - were sounded; were struck
𑌸𑌃 đ‘Œļđ‘ŒŦ𑍍đ‘ŒĻ𑌃 - that sound
𑌤𑍁𑌮𑍁𑌲𑌃 - tumultuous; overwhelming
𑌅𑌭đ‘Œĩ𑌤𑍍 - became; arose

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
Then conches, kettledrums, drums, and horns were sounded all at once, and the sound became a tremendous uproar.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
This verse is the sound of inevitability. When instruments are struck 𑌸𑌹𑌸𑌾 𑌏đ‘Œĩ - "all at once" - the atmosphere changes from preparation to commitment. The mind also works like this: there is a moment where you are still thinking, and then a moment where things begin to move and you cannot pretend it is not happening. 𑌤𑍁𑌮𑍁𑌲𑌃 đ‘Œļđ‘ŒŦ𑍍đ‘ŒĻ𑌃 captures that turning point: it is not a gentle background sound; it is an engulfing wave that announces, "Now the consequences begin."

The tumultuous sound described here is not merely a battlefield noise but a profound symbol of the sudden surge of collective energy and resolve. đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets this uproar as a deliberate victory signal from the Kaurava side, intended to uplift their morale after Bhishma's fierce roar, which in turn provokes a powerful response from Krishna and the Pandavas. Meanwhile, 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ views this external commotion as a metaphor for the inner turmoil that arises when fear and distraction threaten the mind's steadiness. He teaches that amidst such 𑌤𑍁𑌮𑍁𑌲𑌃 đ‘Œļđ‘ŒŦ𑍍đ‘ŒĻ𑌃, one must cultivate đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ—đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œĩ𑍃𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ 𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌰𑍋𑌧𑌃-the cessation of the fluctuations of the mind-as explained in the đ‘ŒĒ𑌾𑌤𑌂𑌜𑌲đ‘Œŋ đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ— đ‘Œ¸đ‘‚đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŖđ‘Œŋ (1.2). This injunction to still the mind's restless waves connects the verse's depiction of overwhelming noise to the spiritual discipline needed to maintain clarity and focus, preparing us to respond wisely rather than react impulsively.

In modern life, we live in 𑌤𑍁𑌮𑍁𑌲 noise almost constantly: notifications, opinions, comparisons, and urgent messages. This verse invites a discipline: learn to pause before you join the uproar. When stress rises, take one breath and ask, "Is this sound telling me to act wisely, or is it just trying to hijack my attention?" Choose one clear action and do it well. You do not have to match the world's volume to have strength.

𑌤𑌤𑌃 đ‘Œļ𑍍đ‘Œĩđ‘‡đ‘Œ¤đ‘ˆđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œšđ‘Œ¯đ‘ˆđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ 𑌮𑌹𑌤đ‘Œŋ đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚đ‘ŒĻ𑌨𑍇 𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍌 āĨ¤
𑌮𑌾𑌧đ‘Œĩ𑌃 đ‘ŒĒ𑌾𑌂𑌡đ‘Œĩđ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚𑍈đ‘Œĩ đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋđ‘Œĩđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ đ‘Œļ𑌂𑌖𑍌 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰đ‘ŒĻ𑌧𑍍𑌮𑌤𑍁𑌃 āĨĨ14āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌤𑌤𑌃 - then
đ‘Œļ𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑍇𑌤𑍈𑌃 - with white
đ‘Œšđ‘Œ¯đ‘ˆđ‘Œƒ - horses
đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ - yoked; harnessed
𑌮𑌹𑌤đ‘Œŋ - great
đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚đ‘ŒĻ𑌨𑍇 - chariot
𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍌 - stationed; seated
𑌮𑌾𑌧đ‘Œĩ𑌃 - Madhava (Krishna)
đ‘ŒĒ𑌾𑌂𑌡đ‘Œĩ𑌃 - the Pandava (Arjuna)
𑌚 𑌏đ‘Œĩ - and also
đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋđ‘Œĩđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ - divine
đ‘Œļ𑌂𑌖𑍌 - conches
đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰đ‘ŒĻ𑌘𑍍𑌮𑌤𑍁𑌃 - blew (pradadhmatuH)

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
Then Madhava and the Pandava, stationed in their great chariot yoked to white horses, blew their divine conches.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
The Gita now places Krishna and Arjuna visibly at the center. The names matter: 𑌮𑌾𑌧đ‘Œĩ𑌃 is not just a driver; it is the Lord who guides, sustains, and steers. The imagery of đ‘Œļ𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑍇𑌤 (white) horses suggests clarity and purity of intention, and the "great chariot" (𑌮𑌹𑌤đ‘Œŋ đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚đ‘ŒĻ𑌨𑍇) signals readiness for a task that affects the world. In a few lines, the text sets up its central symbol: life is a chariot, the senses are powerful horses, and the outcome depends on who holds the reins.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets Krishna as the supreme Lord who, out of boundless compassion, becomes Arjuna's charioteer, symbolizing divine guidance for those who seek refuge in Him. This divine companionship marks a pivotal moment of moral strength and clarity, reinforcing the imagery of the great chariot and pure white horses introduced earlier. Meanwhile, 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ emphasizes the necessity of mastering the mind and senses-represented by the reins and horses-to attain true knowledge and self-control, a theme that resonates with Krishna's epithet 𑌹𑍃𑌷𑍀𑌕𑍇đ‘Œļ, the Lord of the senses. This mastery aligns with the Upanishadic injunction 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠𑌤 𑌜𑌾𑌗𑍍𑌰𑌤 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œĩ𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧𑌤 from the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 (1.3.14), which exhorts one to 'Arise, awake, and learn the excellent wisdom,' underscoring the call to conscious action and spiritual awakening. Together, these insights deepen the verse's portrayal of Krishna and Arjuna's readiness, setting the stage for the practical guidance on choosing the right charioteer in the journey of life.

In modern life, ask: who is the charioteer when you are under pressure? If impulse is driving, even good intentions get scattered. Choose a higher guide: values, conscience, prayer, or the remembrance of đ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘€đ‘Œ•đ‘ƒđ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘ŒŖ as 𑌮𑌾𑌧đ‘Œĩ𑌃. When emotions rise, do one practical thing: slow down the breath and "hold the reins" for ten seconds before you speak or act. White-horse living is not about being perfect; it is about choosing clarity when the world becomes noisy.

đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œžđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œšđ‘Œœđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚ 𑌹𑍃𑌷𑍀𑌕𑍇đ‘Œļ𑌃 đ‘ŒĻ𑍇đ‘Œĩđ‘ŒĻ𑌤𑍍𑌤𑌂 đ‘Œ§đ‘Œ¨đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œœđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œƒ āĨ¤
đ‘ŒĒ𑍌𑌂𑌡𑍍𑌰𑌂 đ‘ŒĻ𑌧𑍍𑌮𑍌 𑌮𑌹𑌾đ‘Œļ𑌂𑌖𑌂 𑌭𑍀𑌮𑌕𑌰𑍍𑌮𑌾 đ‘Œĩ𑍃𑌕𑍋đ‘ŒĻ𑌰𑌃 āĨĨ15āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œžđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œšđ‘Œœđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚ - Panchajanya (Krishna's conch)
𑌹𑍃𑌷𑍀𑌕𑍇đ‘Œļ𑌃 - Hrishikesha (Krishna; Lord of the senses)
đ‘ŒĻ𑍇đ‘Œĩđ‘ŒĻ𑌤𑍍𑌤𑌂 - Devadatta (Arjuna's conch)
đ‘Œ§đ‘Œ¨đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œœđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œƒ - Dhananjaya (Arjuna)
đ‘ŒĒ𑍌𑌂𑌡𑍍𑌰𑌂 - Paundra (Bhima's conch)
đ‘ŒĻ𑌧𑍍𑌮𑍌 - blew
𑌮𑌹𑌾đ‘Œļ𑌂𑌖𑌂 - great conch
𑌭𑍀𑌮𑌕𑌰𑍍𑌮𑌾 - of mighty/terrible deeds (Bhima)
đ‘Œĩ𑍃𑌕𑍋đ‘ŒĻ𑌰𑌃 - Vrukodara (Bhima)

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
Hrishikesha blew Panchajanya; Dhananjaya blew Devadatta; and Bhima - Vrukodara of mighty deeds - blew the great conch Paundra.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
These are not random details; they show individual "voices" joining a shared purpose. Each conch has a name, and each name carries memory and identity. Krishna is called 𑌹𑍃𑌷𑍀𑌕𑍇đ‘Œļ, master of the senses - the one who can guide a mind that is otherwise dragged by impressions. Arjuna is đ‘Œ§đ‘Œ¨đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œœđ‘Œ¯, the one who has won wealth (and, symbolically, capability). Bhima is đ‘Œĩ𑍃𑌕𑍋đ‘ŒĻ𑌰, a force of raw power. The Gita is telling you: different temperaments can serve the same 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 when guided rightly.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ emphasizes that the blowing of the conches by Krishna and Arjuna is a deliberate response to the Kaurava challenge, marking the Pandavas' readiness and spiritual resolve. This act is not merely a sound but a declaration of inner strength and 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 aligned with divine will. 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ deepens this understanding by teaching that the title 𑌹𑍃𑌷𑍀𑌕𑍇đ‘Œļ-master of the senses-signifies the necessity of intellect (đ‘ŒŦ𑍁đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌧đ‘Œŋ) controlling the senses, transforming raw power into disciplined action. This mastery is essential to prevent the conch's sound from becoming mere noise; instead, it becomes a sacred instrument of purpose. Supporting this, the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 (1.3.14) exhorts: 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠𑌤 𑌜𑌾𑌗𑍍𑌰𑌤 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œĩ𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧𑌤-'Arise, awake, and learn by approaching the excellent ones'-which inspires the practitioner to awaken inner vigilance and wisdom. Thus, the conches symbolize not only external readiness but also the inner call to spiritual awakening and disciplined effort, linking the individual qualities introduced earlier to the practical call to action that follows.

In modern life, the question is: what is your "conch"? It is the way you show up when 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 demands your presence - your honest voice, your disciplined effort, your courage to do the right thing even when it is unpopular. Some people contribute through planning, some through hard work, some through calm steadiness, and some through speaking up. The practice is to offer your strength without ego: do not blow the conch to show off; blow it to serve what is right.

𑌅𑌨𑌂𑌤đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘Œœđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚ 𑌰𑌾𑌜𑌾 𑌕𑍁𑌂𑌤𑍀đ‘ŒĒ𑍁𑌤𑍍𑌰𑍋 đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ§đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠đ‘Œŋ𑌰𑌃 āĨ¤
𑌨𑌕𑍁𑌲𑌃 𑌸𑌹đ‘ŒĻ𑍇đ‘Œĩđ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚 đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ˜đ‘‹đ‘Œˇđ‘ŒŽđ‘ŒŖđ‘Œŋđ‘ŒĒ𑍁𑌷𑍍đ‘ŒĒ𑌕𑍌 āĨĨ16āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌅𑌨𑌂𑌤đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘Œœđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚ - Anantavijaya (Yudhishthira's conch)
𑌰𑌾𑌜𑌾 - king
𑌕𑍁𑌂𑌤𑍀đ‘ŒĒ𑍁𑌤𑍍𑌰𑌃 - son of Kunti
đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ§đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠đ‘Œŋ𑌰𑌃 - Yudhishthira
𑌨𑌕𑍁𑌲𑌃 - Nakula
𑌸𑌹đ‘ŒĻ𑍇đ‘Œĩ𑌃 - Sahadeva
đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ˜đ‘‹đ‘Œˇđ‘ŒŽđ‘ŒŖđ‘Œŋđ‘ŒĒ𑍁𑌷𑍍đ‘ŒĒ𑌕𑍌 - Sughosha and Manipushpaka (their conches)

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
King Yudhishthira, son of Kunti, blew Anantavijaya; and Nakula and Sahadeva blew Sughosha and Manipushpaka.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
The eldest brother now enters the soundscape. Yudhishthira is 𑌰𑌾𑌜𑌾, but his leadership is known for restraint and conscience, not for ego-display. The conch-name 𑌅𑌨𑌂𑌤đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘Œœđ‘Œ¯ literally suggests "endless victory" - a reminder that the real victory in 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 is not merely winning a battle but maintaining truth through time. Nakula and Sahadeva follow with their own conches; the picture is of a coordinated family where each member contributes, not only the most famous ones.

The naming of each conch-𑌆𑌨𑌂𑌤đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘Œœđ‘Œ¯ for Yudhishthira, đ‘Œļ𑍁𑌘𑍋𑌸 for Nakula, and 𑌂𑌅𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒĒ𑍁đ‘Œļ𑍍đ‘ŒĒ𑌕 for Sahadeva-highlights their distinct roles and responsibilities within the Pandava collective, emphasizing individual steadiness as a source of strength. 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets Yudhishthira's leadership through the lens of 𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨđ‘Œŋ𑌤-đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌜𑍍𑌞𑌾, the steady-minded person whose inner equilibrium sustains righteous action, while đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ underscores how this unified yet differentiated response unsettles the Kauravas' confidence. This aligns with the Upanishadic injunction 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠𑌤 𑌜𑌾𑌗𑍍𑌰𑌤 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œĩ𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧𑌤 from the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 (1.3.14), which exhorts one to 'Arise, awake, and learn the excellent knowledge,' encouraging the cultivation of alertness and discernment. Thus, the conch-blowing here is not mere noise but a call to steadfastness and awakened duty, setting the stage for the practical application of 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 in daily life.

In modern life, "endless victory" is the victory over your own impulsiveness. It is winning the habit of honesty, the habit of self-control, and the habit of doing what you know is right even when no one is watching. In a group project, do not let all responsibility fall on one "star" member; bring your piece reliably. In family life, do not wait for someone else to be mature first; become the steadier one. That is how 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 becomes practical.

𑌕𑌾đ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚 đ‘ŒĒ𑌰𑌮𑍇𑌷𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌸𑌃 đ‘Œļđ‘Œŋ𑌖𑌂𑌡𑍀 𑌚 𑌮𑌹𑌾𑌰đ‘ŒĨ𑌃 āĨ¤
𑌧𑍃𑌷𑍍𑌟đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘ŒŽđ‘đ‘Œ¨đ‘‹ đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌰𑌾𑌟đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚 đ‘Œ¸đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ•đ‘Œŋđ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚𑌾đ‘ŒĒ𑌰𑌾𑌜đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌃 āĨĨ1𑍭āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌕𑌾đ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œƒ - the king of Kashi
𑌚 - and
đ‘ŒĒ𑌰𑌮𑍇𑌷𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌸𑌃 - supreme bowman; great archer
đ‘Œļđ‘Œŋ𑌖𑌂𑌡𑍀 - Shikhandi
𑌮𑌹𑌾-𑌰đ‘ŒĨ𑌃 - great chariot-warrior
𑌧𑍃𑌷𑍍𑌟đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘ŒŽđ‘đ‘Œ¨đ‘Œƒ - Dhrishtadyumna
đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌰𑌾𑌟𑌃 - Virata
đ‘Œ¸đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ•đ‘Œŋ𑌃 - Satyaki
𑌅đ‘ŒĒ𑌰𑌾𑌜đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌃 - unconquered

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
The king of Kashi, the great archer; Shikhandi, the great chariot-warrior; Dhrishtadyumna, Virata, and the undefeated Satyaki were among those who sounded their conches.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
These verses name allies and qualities to show that 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 is not a solo hero-story. Each person listed represents support arriving from different places - kings, warriors, and friends - and each carries a distinctive strength. Notice the word 𑌅đ‘ŒĒ𑌰𑌾𑌜đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌃 (unconquered) for Satyaki: beyond physical strength, morale is built from the conviction that you have already faced difficulty and not broken.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ highlights this roll-call as a manifestation of collective strength, where each warrior embodies a vital support that unsettles the Kauravas' confidence. Meanwhile, 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets these names as representing both external allies and internal virtues, emphasizing that true preparedness arises from 𑌸𑌂𑌸𑍍𑌕𑌾𑌰-the inner conditioning cultivated through disciplined action. This dual support system aligns with the wisdom of the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 (1.3.14): 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠𑌤 𑌜𑌾𑌗𑍍𑌰𑌤 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œĩ𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧𑌤, which urges one to 'Arise, awake, and learn by approaching the excellent ones.' This injunction encourages not only rallying external help but also awakening inner faculties, thus bridging the external battlefield with the inner spiritual journey.

In modern life, do not glorify struggle alone. Build your circle: friends who tell you the truth, mentors who guide you, and peers who push you to grow. And build your inner allies too: discipline, health, study, and prayer. When you feel outnumbered by problems, remember this verse: help exists, and your job is to stand in your place with courage.

đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌰𑍁đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑍋 đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌰𑍌đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻđ‘‡đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚 𑌸𑌰𑍍đ‘Œĩđ‘Œļ𑌃 đ‘ŒĒ𑍃đ‘ŒĨđ‘Œŋđ‘Œĩ𑍀đ‘ŒĒ𑌤𑍇 āĨ¤
𑌸𑍌𑌭đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌰đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚 𑌮𑌹𑌾đ‘ŒŦ𑌾𑌹𑍁𑌃 đ‘Œļ𑌂𑌖𑌾𑌨𑍍-đ‘ŒĻ𑌧𑍍𑌮𑍁𑌃 đ‘ŒĒ𑍃đ‘ŒĨ𑌕𑍍 đ‘ŒĒ𑍃đ‘ŒĨ𑌕𑍍 āĨĨ1𑍮āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌰𑍁đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌃 - Drupada
đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌰𑍌đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻđ‘‡đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œƒ - the sons of Draupadi
𑌸𑌰𑍍đ‘Œĩđ‘Œļ𑌃 - all; in every way
đ‘ŒĒ𑍃đ‘ŒĨđ‘Œŋđ‘Œĩ𑍀đ‘ŒĒ𑌤𑍇 - O king (address to Dhritarashtra)
𑌸𑍌𑌭đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌰𑌃 - the son of Subhadra (Abhimanyu)
𑌮𑌹𑌾-đ‘ŒŦ𑌾𑌹𑍁𑌃 - mighty-armed
đ‘Œļ𑌂𑌖𑌾𑌨𑍍 - conches
đ‘ŒĻ𑌧𑍍𑌮𑍁𑌃 - blew
đ‘ŒĒ𑍃đ‘ŒĨ𑌕𑍍 đ‘ŒĒ𑍃đ‘ŒĨ𑌕𑍍 - separately; each in his own way

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
O king, Drupada, all the sons of Draupadi, and the mighty-armed Saubhadra blew their conches - each one separately.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
The phrase đ‘ŒĒ𑍃đ‘ŒĨ𑌕𑍍 đ‘ŒĒ𑍃đ‘ŒĨ𑌕𑍍 is beautiful: each person blows a conch in their own place, yet the sound becomes one chorus. That is how 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 works in society. Not everyone has the same role, and not everyone expresses strength in the same way, but when the intention is aligned, individual effort becomes collective force. The verse also repeats the earlier reminder: even the young - 𑌸𑍌𑌭đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌰𑌃 - are pulled into the consequences of elders' choices.

𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ emphasizes that the phrase đ‘ŒĒ𑍃đ‘ŒĨ𑌕𑍍 đ‘ŒĒ𑍃đ‘ŒĨ𑌕𑍍 teaches the essential principle of performing one's own 𑌸𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 without envy or imitation, highlighting the importance of individual responsibility within the collective effort. Similarly, đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets this verse as illustrating how each warrior's conch contributes to a unified sound that unsettles the enemy, while also reminding Dhritarashtra of the ultimate accountability resting with the leader. This layered meaning aligns with the Upanishadic injunction from the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 (1.3.14): 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠𑌤 𑌜𑌾𑌗𑍍𑌰𑌤 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œĩ𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧𑌤 - 'Arise, awake, and learn by approaching the excellent ones.' This call to action underscores that every individual must awaken to their duty and perform it diligently, thereby preparing the ground for the practical guidance in the next paragraph about taking initiative in daily life.

In modern life, do not wait for someone else to "blow the conch" for you. If you are part of a family, be the one who communicates clearly. If you are part of a team, contribute reliably. If you are part of a community, show up with skill and kindness. Collective progress happens when many individuals take responsibility without needing applause.

𑌸 𑌘𑍋𑌷𑍋 đ‘Œ§đ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘ŒŸđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŖđ‘Œžđ‘Œ‚ 𑌹𑍃đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘Œŋ đ‘Œĩđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘ āĨ¤
𑌨𑌭đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚 đ‘ŒĒ𑍃đ‘ŒĨđ‘Œŋđ‘Œĩ𑍀𑌂 𑌚𑍈đ‘Œĩ 𑌤𑍁𑌮𑍁𑌲𑍋 đ‘Œĩđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œ¨đ‘Œžđ‘ŒĻđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¨đ‘ āĨĨ1đ‘¯āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌸𑌃 𑌘𑍋𑌷𑌃 - that sound; that roar
đ‘Œ§đ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘ŒŸđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŖđ‘Œžđ‘Œ‚ - of Dhritarashtra's sons
𑌹𑍃đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘Œŋ - hearts
đ‘Œĩđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘ - tore; rent asunder
𑌨𑌭𑌃 - sky
đ‘ŒĒ𑍃đ‘ŒĨđ‘Œŋđ‘Œĩ𑍀𑌂 - earth
𑌚 𑌏đ‘Œĩ - and also
𑌤𑍁𑌮𑍁𑌲𑌃 - tumultuous; mighty
đ‘Œĩđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œ¨đ‘Œžđ‘ŒĻđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¨đ‘ - reverberating; resounding

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
That tumultuous sound tore the hearts of Dhritarashtra's sons and echoed through the sky and the earth.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
The verse is physical and psychological at once. The sound "echoes through sky and earth" (𑌨𑌭𑌃 ... đ‘ŒĒ𑍃đ‘ŒĨđ‘Œŋđ‘Œĩ𑍀𑌂 ... đ‘Œĩđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œ¨đ‘Œžđ‘ŒĻđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¨đ‘), and at the same time it "tears the hearts" (𑌹𑍃đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘Œŋ đ‘Œĩđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘) of the Kauravas. When a cause is shaky inside, even an outer sound can expose it. You can read this as the moment where Duryodhana's attempt to project confidence cracks, because the opponent's unity and divine support becomes undeniable.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ explains that the tumultuous sound "rent asunder the hearts" of Dhritarashtra's sons, revealing their deep inner fear and the dawning realization that their cause was nearly lost. This highlights the psychological principle that guilt and doubt within produce intense anxiety, making even external sounds feel overwhelming. 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ contrasts this by teaching that the truly wise remain unmoved by such external disturbances; thus, the trembling hearts here demonstrate a mind not yet anchored in spiritual truth. This is echoed by the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 injunction 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠𑌤 𑌜𑌾𑌗𑍍𑌰𑌤 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œĩ𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧𑌤, which urges one to "Arise, awake, and learn the excellent wisdom," emphasizing the need to overcome inner weakness and align with higher knowledge. This understanding bridges the verse's depiction of psychological turmoil with the practical remedy of cultivating inner strength and clarity.

In modern life, this verse is a mirror for nervousness that comes from misalignment. When you know you have cut corners, lied, or hurt someone, even small signals feel threatening - a message, a meeting invite, a look. The remedy is simple and brave: return to 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮. Apologize, correct, and rebuild. When you are aligned, the same "noise" no longer tears the heart; it becomes just information.

𑌅đ‘ŒĨ đ‘Œĩđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œĩ𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌨𑍍-đ‘ŒĻ𑍃𑌷𑍍𑌟𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌾 𑌧𑌾𑌰𑍍𑌤𑌰𑌾𑌷𑍍𑌟𑍍𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍 𑌕đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ𑌧𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌜𑌃 āĨ¤
đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰đ‘Œĩ𑍃𑌤𑍍𑌤𑍇 đ‘Œļ𑌸𑍍𑌤𑍍𑌰𑌸𑌂đ‘ŒĒ𑌾𑌤𑍇 𑌧𑌨𑍁𑌰𑍁đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒŽđ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘ŒĒ𑌾𑌂𑌡đ‘Œĩ𑌃 āĨĨ20āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌅đ‘ŒĨ - then; now
đ‘Œĩđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œĩ𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌨𑍍 - arrayed; stationed
đ‘ŒĻ𑍃𑌷𑍍𑌟𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌾 - having seen
𑌧𑌾𑌰𑍍𑌤𑌰𑌾𑌷𑍍𑌟𑍍𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍 - the sons of Dhritarashtra
𑌕đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ𑌧𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌜𑌃 - he whose banner bears the monkey (Arjuna)
đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰đ‘Œĩ𑍃𑌤𑍍𑌤𑍇 - when it had begun / when it was about to begin
đ‘Œļ𑌸𑍍𑌤𑍍𑌰-𑌸𑌂đ‘ŒĒ𑌾𑌤𑍇 - in the shower/clash of weapons
𑌧𑌨𑍁𑌹𑍍 - bow
𑌉đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒŽđ‘đ‘Œ¯ - lifting; raising
đ‘ŒĒ𑌾𑌂𑌡đ‘Œĩ𑌃 - the Pandava (Arjuna)

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
Then, seeing the sons of Dhritarashtra drawn up for battle, and as the clash of weapons was about to begin, Arjuna - the Pandava with the monkey-banner - raised his bow.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
This is the breath before the first strike. The armies are already đ‘Œĩđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œĩ𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨđ‘Œŋ𑌤 (in position), and the moment of contact is near. Arjuna is described by his emblem - 𑌕đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ𑌧𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌜 - which reminds you of 𑌹𑌨𑍂𑌮𑌾𑌨𑍍 on his flag: strength, service, and unwavering courage. Outwardly, Arjuna is ready to act; inwardly, something very different is about to surface. The Gita often shows this contrast: the body can look strong while the mind begins to tremble.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ highlights that this moment transcends a mere battlefield scene; it is a pivotal 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮-crisis where the fate of many hinges on Arjuna's resolve. Meanwhile, 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets Arjuna's poised stance as the final external expression of readiness before his inner turmoil unfolds, emphasizing the need for discernment and steadiness in action. This tension between outer composure and inner conflict echoes the Upanishadic call 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠𑌤 𑌜𑌾𑌗𑍍𑌰𑌤 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œĩ𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧𑌤 from the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 (1.3.14), urging one to 'Arise, awake, and learn the highest truth.' This verse thus captures the threshold where conscious awareness must awaken to guide action, linking the visible readiness described earlier to the mindful pause recommended next.

In modern life, learn from this moment: the most dangerous time is often the second right before you "hit send" or "say it." When you are at the edge of an argument or a major decision, pause for one breath and ask, "What am I about to begin?" If anger is driving, delay; draft the message, but do not send it immediately. If 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 is driving, proceed with steadiness and clean intent. A helpful micro-practice is to check the body first: relax the jaw, drop the shoulders, and feel both feet for two breaths; then speak. This one-breath pause is often the difference between a reaction that you later regret and a conscious action that you can stand by.

𑌹𑍃𑌷𑍀𑌕𑍇đ‘Œļ𑌂 𑌤đ‘ŒĻ𑌾 đ‘Œĩđ‘Œžđ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒŽđ‘ 𑌇đ‘ŒĻ𑌮𑌾𑌹 𑌮𑌹𑍀đ‘ŒĒ𑌤𑍇 āĨ¤
𑌅𑌰𑍍𑌜𑍁𑌨 𑌉đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌚
đ‘Œ¸đ‘‡đ‘Œ¨đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ­đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ§đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡ 𑌰đ‘ŒĨ𑌂 𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨ𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œ¯ 𑌮𑍇đ‘ŒŊđ‘Œšđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ¤ āĨĨ21āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌹𑍃𑌷𑍀𑌕𑍇đ‘Œļ𑌂 - Hrishikesha (Krishna; Lord of the senses)
𑌤đ‘ŒĻ𑌾 - then
đ‘Œĩđ‘Œžđ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒŽđ‘ - words; speech
𑌇đ‘ŒĻ𑌮𑍍 - this
𑌆𑌹 - said
𑌮𑌹𑍀đ‘ŒĒ𑌤𑍇 - O king (address to Dhritarashtra)
𑌅𑌰𑍍𑌜𑍁𑌨𑌃 - Arjuna
𑌉đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌚 - said
đ‘Œ¸đ‘‡đ‘Œ¨đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œƒ - of the two armies
đ‘Œ‰đ‘Œ­đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œƒ - both
đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ§đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡ - in the middle
𑌰đ‘ŒĨ𑌂 - chariot
𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨ𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œ¯ - place; station
𑌮𑍇 - my; for me
đ‘Œ…đ‘Œšđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ¤ - O infallible one (Krishna)

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
Arjuna said to Hrishikesha: O Achyuta, place my chariot between the two armies.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Arjuna's first move is not to shoot; it is to see. He asks to be placed đ‘Œ¸đ‘‡đ‘Œ¨đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ­đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ§đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡ - right between the two sides - as if the Gita is telling you: real 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮-choices are made "in the middle," not from a safe distance. Notice also how he addresses Krishna: 𑌹𑍃𑌷𑍀𑌕𑍇đ‘Œļ (Lord of the senses) and đ‘Œ…đ‘Œšđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ¤ (the unfailing one). Even before Arjuna understands his own mind, he instinctively reaches for a guide who is steady.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets Krishna's role as charioteer here as that of the Supreme Lord who lovingly guides the devotee who seeks refuge, embodying compassionate leadership rather than coercion. This aligns with the idea that true guidance comes from presence and steadiness, as Arjuna places himself đ‘Œ¸đ‘‡đ‘Œ¨đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ­đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ§đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡-in the midst of conflict, not at a distance. 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ further deepens this by challenging Arjuna's sorrow and confusion, revealing that such turmoil arises when one fails to confront reality directly. The Upanishadic injunction 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠𑌤 𑌜𑌾𑌗𑍍𑌰𑌤 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œĩ𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧𑌤 from the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 (1.3.14) - meaning 'Arise, awake, and learn by approaching the excellent ones' - underscores the necessity of active engagement and seeking clarity through wise counsel. Together, these teachings emphasize that placing oneself in the middle of the struggle is the first step toward true understanding and sets the foundation for the practical wisdom discussed next.

In modern life, do the same: before reacting, place your attention "between the armies." That means between impulse and response, between anger and speech. Ask for a clearer view: "What exactly is happening? Who is involved? What is the cost?" When you seek counsel, seek it from the steady - people who help you see, not people who inflame you. Clarity is often the first act of courage.

đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œĩđ‘ŒĻ𑍇𑌤𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌰𑍀𑌕𑍍𑌷𑍇đ‘ŒŊ𑌹𑌂 đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌧𑍁𑌕𑌾𑌮𑌾𑌨đ‘Œĩ𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌨𑍍 āĨ¤
đ‘Œ•đ‘ˆđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œž 𑌸𑌹 đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌧đ‘Œĩđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚ 𑌅𑌸𑍍𑌮đ‘Œŋ𑌨𑍍 đ‘Œ°đ‘ŒŖđ‘Œ¸đ‘ŒŽđ‘đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒŽđ‘‡ āĨĨ22āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œĩ𑌤𑍍 - until; as long as
𑌏𑌤𑌾𑌨𑍍 - these people
𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌰𑍀𑌕𑍍𑌷𑍇 - I may see; I may observe
𑌇𑌹 - here
đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌧𑍁-𑌕𑌾𑌮𑌾𑌨𑍍 - those desiring to fight
𑌅đ‘Œĩ𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌨𑍍 - standing; positioned
𑌕𑍈𑌃 - with whom
đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œž 𑌸𑌹 - with me
đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌧đ‘Œĩđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚ - are to be fought
𑌅𑌸𑍍𑌮đ‘Œŋ𑌨𑍍 - in this
đ‘Œ°đ‘ŒŖ-𑌸𑌮𑍁đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒŽđ‘‡ - undertaking of battle

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
Let me look at those who are standing here eager to fight, with whom I must engage in this battle.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Arjuna is still in the "warrior" mindset: he speaks of "with whom I must fight" (đ‘Œ•đ‘ˆđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œž 𑌸𑌹 đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌧đ‘Œĩđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚). Yet a deeper need is emerging: he wants to see the human faces behind the labels. This verse is a reminder that 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 is not decided in abstraction. You have to look carefully at reality - who is involved, what the relationships are, and what the consequences will be. Without that seeing, action becomes blind.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets Arjuna's request as a call for direct, personal perception of those assembled, emphasizing that true understanding arises from seeing reality clearly rather than relying on secondhand information. 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ stresses the importance of đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘Œĩ𑍇𑌕-discernment-as the foundation of right action, teaching that one must first see correctly to act rightly. This aligns with the Upanishadic injunction 𑌅𑌸𑌤𑍋 𑌮𑌾 𑌸đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ—đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¯ ('lead me from the unreal to the real'), which underscores the necessity of moving beyond superficial appearances to grasp the true nature of the situation. Arjuna's desire to survey the warriors is thus his initial step toward such clarity, preparing him to face the emotional and ethical challenges ahead.

In modern life, do not make big decisions from rumor or from a single angry story. "Seeing who is there" can mean meeting people, listening to both sides, and checking facts before choosing a stance. It also means seeing your own motives: are you fighting for 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮, or for ego? When you train this habit, your actions become cleaner and your regrets become fewer.

đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘Œĩ𑍇𑌕𑍍𑌷𑍇đ‘ŒŊ𑌹𑌂 đ‘Œ¯ 𑌏𑌤𑍇đ‘ŒŊ𑌤𑍍𑌰 𑌸𑌮𑌾𑌗𑌤𑌾𑌃 āĨ¤
đ‘Œ§đ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘ŒŸđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘ŒĻ𑍁𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒŦ𑍁đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌧𑍇𑌃 đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌧𑍇 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œšđ‘Œŋ𑌕𑍀𑌰𑍍𑌷đ‘Œĩ𑌃 āĨĨ23āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘ - those intending to fight
𑌅đ‘Œĩ𑍇𑌕𑍍𑌷𑍇 - I will observe; I will see
𑌇𑌹 - here
đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡ - who
𑌏𑌤𑍇 - these
𑌅𑌤𑍍𑌰 - here
𑌸𑌮𑌾𑌗𑌤𑌾𑌃 - have assembled
đ‘Œ§đ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘ŒŸđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ¯ - of the son of Dhritarashtra (Duryodhana)
đ‘ŒĻ𑍁𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒŦ𑍁đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌧𑍇𑌃 - of evil counsel; of crooked understanding
đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌧𑍇 - in battle
đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ¯-𑌚đ‘Œŋ𑌕𑍀𑌰𑍍𑌷đ‘Œĩ𑌃 - desiring to please; wishing to do what is dear

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
I want to see those who have gathered here ready to fight, seeking to please the evil-minded son of Dhritarashtra in this war.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Arjuna now names a moral judgment: he calls Duryodhana đ‘ŒĻ𑍁𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒŦ𑍁đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌧đ‘Œŋ - one of perverse counsel. He is not merely curious about opponents; he is trying to understand why good people stand on the side of an unjust leader. The phrase đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œšđ‘Œŋ𑌕𑍀𑌰𑍍𑌷đ‘Œĩ𑌃 is sharp: many do wrong not because they love wrong, but because they want to please someone powerful. The verse shines a light on a real human weakness: loyalty without discernment becomes complicity.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets Arjuna's words as a reflection of his deep dharmic sensitivity, emphasizing that Arjuna is pained by the presence of his kinsmen aligned with the đ‘ŒĻ𑍁𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒŦ𑍁đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌧đ‘Œŋ Duryodhana, highlighting the tragedy of moral blindness within one's own family. 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ acknowledges this moral confusion but urges that such sorrow must lead to clarity and detachment from selfish motives, as true action arises from purified understanding. This ethical struggle aligns with the Upanishadic call 𑌤𑌮𑌸𑍋 𑌮𑌾 đ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ—đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¯-"lead me from darkness to light"-which underscores the need to transcend ignorance and see the truth behind misguided loyalties. Thus, Arjuna's observation that many fight merely to please the evil-minded leader sets the stage for discerning right action beyond mere attachment, preparing us to confront the challenge of maintaining integrity in the face of social pressures.

In modern life, notice how often "pleasing" drives decisions: pleasing a boss, a friend group, an online audience, or even your own image. If a leader is đ‘ŒĻ𑍁𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒŦ𑍁đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌧đ‘Œŋ, do not become part of their wrongdoing just to stay in favor. Practice respectful firmness: speak truth, refuse unethical tasks, and be willing to lose a little comfort to keep your integrity. That is real courage.

đ‘Œ¸đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œœđ‘Œ¯ 𑌉đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌚
𑌏đ‘Œĩ𑌮𑍁𑌕𑍍𑌤𑍋 𑌹𑍃𑌷𑍀𑌕𑍇đ‘Œļ𑌃 𑌗𑍁𑌡𑌾𑌕𑍇đ‘Œļ𑍇𑌨 𑌭𑌾𑌰𑌤 āĨ¤
đ‘Œ¸đ‘‡đ‘Œ¨đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ­đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ§đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡ 𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨ𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌾 𑌰đ‘ŒĨ𑍋𑌤𑍍𑌤𑌮𑌮𑍍 āĨĨ24āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
đ‘Œ¸đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œœđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œƒ - Sanjaya
𑌉đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌚 - said
𑌏đ‘Œĩ𑌮𑍍 - thus
𑌉𑌕𑍍𑌤𑌃 - addressed; spoken to
𑌹𑍃𑌷𑍀𑌕𑍇đ‘Œļ𑌃 - Hrishikesha (Krishna)
𑌗𑍁𑌡𑌾𑌕𑍇đ‘Œļ𑍇𑌨 - by Gudakesha (Arjuna)
𑌭𑌾𑌰𑌤 - O Bharata (address to Dhritarashtra)
đ‘Œ¸đ‘‡đ‘Œ¨đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œƒ - of the two armies
đ‘Œ‰đ‘Œ­đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œƒ - both
đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ§đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡ - in the middle
𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨ𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌾 - having placed
𑌰đ‘ŒĨ-𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤𑌮𑌮𑍍 - the best chariot

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
Sanjaya said: Thus addressed by Gudakesha, O Bharata, Hrishikesha placed the best of chariots between the two armies.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
The verse holds a quiet wonder: the Lord obeys the devotee's request. Krishna is called 𑌹𑍃𑌷𑍀𑌕𑍇đ‘Œļ, master of the senses, yet He chooses to become the charioteer. Arjuna is called 𑌗𑍁𑌡𑌾𑌕𑍇đ‘Œļ, often understood as "conqueror of sleep" or "conqueror of darkness" - a name that suggests discipline and wakefulness. The meeting of these two names hints at a principle: when you cultivate wakefulness, grace can guide you. The "best chariot" is not merely a vehicle; it is a symbol of a life guided by a higher hand.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ highlights Krishna's compassionate readiness to serve those who seek refuge in Him, portraying His assuming the role of charioteer as an act of loving guidance rather than subordination. Similarly, 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets Krishna's position not as a loss of sovereignty but as the supreme mastery of 𑌹𑍃𑌷𑍀𑌕𑍇đ‘Œļ-the controller of senses-who freely chooses to guide without attachment. This aligns with the Upanishadic injunction 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠𑌤 𑌜𑌾𑌗𑍍𑌰𑌤 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œĩ𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧𑌤 from the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 (1.3.14), urging one to 'Arise, awake, and learn from the excellent ones,' emphasizing the importance of conscious wakefulness and surrender to higher wisdom. Thus, Krishna's act of placing the best chariot between the armies symbolizes the union of disciplined alertness (𑌗𑍁𑌡𑌾𑌕𑍇đ‘Œļ) and divine guidance (𑌹𑍃𑌷𑍀𑌕𑍇đ‘Œļ), preparing the ground for practical steps toward inner steadiness and clarity.

In modern life, you may not have a Krishna visibly holding your reins, but you can invite guidance in a real way. Before a difficult conversation, pause and ask, "Let my senses be guided; let my mind be steady." Then act from that prayer. Also, cultivate the 𑌗𑍁𑌡𑌾𑌕𑍇đ‘Œļ quality: reduce distractions, sleep well, and keep your attention clean. The more awake you are, the more clearly guidance can be felt.

𑌭𑍀𑌷𑍍𑌮đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘‹đ‘ŒŖđ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌮𑍁𑌖𑌤𑌃 𑌸𑌰𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑍇𑌷𑌾𑌂 𑌚 𑌮𑌹𑍀𑌕𑍍𑌷đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌮𑍍 āĨ¤
𑌉đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌚 đ‘ŒĒ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘ˆđ‘Œ¤đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘ 𑌸𑌮đ‘Œĩ𑍇𑌤𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌕𑍁𑌰𑍂𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌤đ‘Œŋ āĨĨ25āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌭𑍀𑌷𑍍𑌮 - Bhishma
đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘‹đ‘ŒŖ - Drona
đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌮𑍁𑌖𑌤𑌃 - in front of; with them in the forefront
𑌸𑌰𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑍇𑌷𑌾𑌂 - of all
𑌚 - and
𑌮𑌹𑍀𑌕𑍍𑌷đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌮𑍍 - kings; rulers of the earth
𑌉đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌚 - said
đ‘ŒĒ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ - O Partha (Arjuna)
đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ¯ - behold; look
𑌏𑌤𑌾𑌨𑍍 - these
𑌸𑌮đ‘Œĩ𑍇𑌤𑌾𑌨𑍍 - assembled
𑌕𑍁𑌰𑍂𑌨𑍍 - the Kurus
𑌇𑌤đ‘Œŋ - thus

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
With Bhishma and Drona in the forefront, and in the presence of all the kings, Krishna said: O Partha, behold these Kurus assembled here.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Krishna does not distract Arjuna with philosophy yet; He begins with direct seeing. He places the chariot where Bhishma and Drona are visible - the very relationships that will pierce Arjuna's heart. And He says, "Behold the Kurus." Not "enemies", not "targets" - 𑌕𑍁𑌰𑍂𑌨𑍍, family and community. This is compassionate and surgical: Krishna is letting Arjuna face the real knot, because only what is faced can be untied.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ highlights Krishna's role as the compassionate charioteer who guides Arjuna to directly witness the assembled Kurus, initiating the teaching through lived experience rather than abstract philosophy. This direct seeing is essential, as 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ later explains that Arjuna's sorrow arises from 𑌮𑍋𑌹-delusion or confusion-which must first be fully revealed before it can be dispelled. Krishna's command to "see" is thus a call to confront reality without distortion, echoing the Upanishadic prayer 𑌅𑌸𑌤𑍋 𑌮𑌾 𑌸đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ—đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¯ from the đ‘ŒŦ𑍃𑌹đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘ŒŖđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ• 𑌉đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍, meaning "Lead me from the unreal to the real." This verse marks the crucial moment where Arjuna's inner turmoil is brought into the light, preparing him to move beyond confusion toward clarity and decisive action.

In modern life, when you are stuck, do the same: look directly, without labels. Before judging, ask, "What is actually here?" Often we call someone an "enemy" when they are also a teacher, a relative, or a wounded person. Seeing clearly does not remove the need for boundaries or decisive action; it removes unnecessary hatred and distortion. Clarity is compassion.

𑌤𑌤𑍍𑌰𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘ŒĨđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌨𑍍 đ‘ŒĒ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ𑌃 đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍄𑌨đ‘ŒĨ đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌮𑌹𑌾𑌨𑍍 āĨ¤
đ‘Œ†đ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘-𑌮𑌾𑌤𑍁𑌲𑌾𑌨𑍍-𑌭𑍍𑌰𑌾𑌤𑍄𑌨𑍍 đ‘ŒĒ𑍁𑌤𑍍𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍-đ‘ŒĒ𑍌𑌤𑍍𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍-𑌸𑌖𑍀𑌂𑌸𑍍𑌤đ‘ŒĨ𑌾 āĨĨ26āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌤𑌤𑍍𑌰 - there
𑌅đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘ - saw
𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌨𑍍 - standing
đ‘ŒĒ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ𑌃 - Partha (Arjuna)
đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍄𑌨𑍍 - fathers
𑌅đ‘ŒĨ - and
đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌮𑌹𑌾𑌨𑍍 - grandfathers
đ‘Œ†đ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘ - teachers
𑌮𑌾𑌤𑍁𑌲𑌾𑌨𑍍 - maternal uncles
𑌭𑍍𑌰𑌾𑌤𑍄𑌨𑍍 - brothers
đ‘ŒĒ𑍁𑌤𑍍𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍 - sons
đ‘ŒĒ𑍌𑌤𑍍𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍 - grandsons
𑌸𑌖𑍀𑌨𑍍 - friends
𑌤đ‘ŒĨ𑌾 - also

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
There Partha saw standing fathers and grandfathers, teachers and uncles, brothers, sons, grandsons, and friends.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
This is where the Gita becomes intensely human. The battlefield stops being two abstract teams and becomes a gathering of relationships. The list is deliberately wide: elders who shaped him, peers who grew with him, and youngsters who carry the future. When Arjuna sees đ‘Œ†đ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘ and đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌮𑌹𑌾𑌨𑍍 on the other side, his inner story of "duty" collides with his inner story of "love." This collision is the doorway through which the whole teaching will enter.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ describes Arjuna as a person of profound kindness and righteousness, which explains why the sight of his own relatives arrayed for battle deeply unsettles him. 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets Arjuna's state here as đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌷𑌾đ‘ŒĻ, a sorrow born from 𑌮𑍋𑌹-confusion and attachment that cloud discernment. This moment marks the mind's struggle, where compassion threatens to become paralysis. Yet, as the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 (1.2.18) teaches, 𑌨 đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ 𑌮𑍍𑌰đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ đ‘Œĩ𑌾 đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍍-the true Self is never born nor does it die-pointing to a deeper reality beyond the immediate grief. This insight prepares us for Krishna's teaching, which will not destroy Arjuna's compassion but purify and elevate it, transforming inner conflict into clarity and resolve.

In modern life, conflicts often happen between people who have history together - family, friends, colleagues. Before you act, remember that the other person is not only "the problem"; they are also a person with a story. This does not mean you tolerate injustice, but it does mean you avoid cruelty. The practice is "firmness without hatred": tell the truth, set boundaries, and still keep your heart human.

đ‘Œļ𑍍đ‘Œĩđ‘Œļ𑍁𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍-𑌸𑍁𑌹𑍃đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚𑍈đ‘Œĩ đ‘Œ¸đ‘‡đ‘Œ¨đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ­đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ°đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ āĨ¤
đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œ¸đ‘ŒŽđ‘€đ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘Œ¯ 𑌸 đ‘Œ•đ‘Œđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œƒ 𑌸𑌰𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌨𑍍đ‘ŒŦ𑌂𑌧𑍂𑌨đ‘Œĩ𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌨𑍍 āĨĨ2𑍭āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
đ‘Œļ𑍍đ‘Œĩđ‘Œļ𑍁𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍 - fathers-in-law
𑌸𑍁𑌹𑍃đ‘ŒĻ𑌃 - well-wishers; friends
𑌚 𑌏đ‘Œĩ - and also
đ‘Œ¸đ‘‡đ‘Œ¨đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œƒ - in the two armies
đ‘Œ‰đ‘Œ­đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œƒ - both
𑌅đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ - even; also
𑌤𑌾𑌨𑍍 - them
đ‘Œ¸đ‘ŒŽđ‘€đ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘Œ¯ - having looked at; seeing
𑌸𑌃 - that
đ‘Œ•đ‘Œđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œƒ - son of Kunti (Arjuna)
𑌸𑌰𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌨𑍍 - all
đ‘ŒŦ𑌂𑌧𑍂𑌨𑍍 - relatives
𑌅đ‘Œĩ𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌨𑍍 - standing; positioned

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
He also saw fathers-in-law and well-wishers in both armies; seeing all those relatives standing there, the son of Kunti (Arjuna)...

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
The net widens: not only immediate family but đ‘Œļ𑍍đ‘Œĩđ‘Œļ𑍁𑌰s (in-laws) and 𑌸𑍁𑌹𑍃đ‘ŒĻ𑍍s (well-wishers) are present. The war is now a tearing of the social fabric, not merely a contest of weapons. This is why Arjuna's sorrow cannot be dismissed as "weakness." The verse shows how layered human life is: duty is real, but bonds are real too. The pain comes when both are real and they point in different directions.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ highlights Arjuna's profound compassion and righteousness, portraying him as deeply moved by the presence of relatives on both sides, which intensifies his inner conflict. Meanwhile, 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets this sorrow as arising from a misidentification of the eternal Self with the transient body and its relationships, a confusion that binds Arjuna to grief. This philosophical insight is supported by the Upanishadic teaching 𑌨 đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ 𑌮𑍍𑌰đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ đ‘Œĩ𑌾 đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍍 from the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 (1.2.18), meaning the true Self is never born nor does it die, emphasizing the distinction between the immortal soul and the perishable body. Recognizing this truth is intended to liberate Arjuna, enabling him to fulfill his duty without hatred, thus connecting the personal pain of loss to the higher spiritual wisdom that guides right action.

In modern life, this verse teaches "think systemically." When you fight for a point, ask what relationships you are tearing in the process. Sometimes a hard decision is still necessary, but it should be taken with awareness of the human cost and with efforts to minimize harm. Practice speaking truth without burning bridges unnecessarily. That is how 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 and compassion can stay together.

𑌕𑍃đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œž đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œ°đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŊđ‘ŒŊđ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌟𑌃 đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍀đ‘ŒĻ𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒĻ𑌮đ‘ŒŦ𑍍𑌰đ‘Œĩ𑍀𑌤𑍍 āĨ¤
𑌅𑌰𑍍𑌜𑍁𑌨 𑌉đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌚
đ‘ŒĻ𑍃𑌷𑍍𑌟𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑍇𑌮𑌂 𑌸𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌜𑌨𑌂 đ‘Œ•đ‘ƒđ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘ŒŖ đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ‚ 𑌸𑌮𑍁đ‘ŒĒ𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌮𑍍 āĨĨ2𑍮āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌕𑍃đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œž - with compassion
đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œ°đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œž - supreme; very great
𑌆đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌟𑌃 - pervaded; overwhelmed
đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍀đ‘ŒĻ𑌨𑍍 - grieving; sinking in sorrow
𑌇đ‘ŒĻ𑌮𑍍 - this
𑌅đ‘ŒŦ𑍍𑌰đ‘Œĩ𑍀𑌤𑍍 - said
đ‘ŒĻ𑍃𑌷𑍍𑌟𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌾 - seeing
𑌇𑌮𑌮𑍍 - this
𑌸𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌜𑌨𑌂 - one's own people; relatives
đ‘Œ•đ‘ƒđ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘ŒŖ - O Krishna
đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ‚ - eager to fight
𑌸𑌮𑍁đ‘ŒĒ𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌮𑍍 - assembled; standing ready

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
Overwhelmed by deep compassion and grief, Arjuna said: O Krishna, seeing my own people standing here eager to fight...

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
This is the exact doorway into the Gita. The verse does not begin with philosophy; it begins with the heart breaking open. Arjuna is filled with 𑌕𑍃đ‘ŒĒ𑌾, and not a small kindness but đ‘ŒĒ𑌰𑌾 𑌕𑍃đ‘ŒĒ𑌾 - a compassion that floods the whole mind. He sees 𑌸𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌜𑌨 - "my own people" - and the word itself tightens the knot: the enemy is not a stranger, it is family. When love and duty collide, the mind often collapses into sorrow first, because sorrow feels safer than choice.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ highlights Arjuna's profound compassion and righteousness, portraying him as a noble soul overwhelmed by love for his kin, which leads him to renounce fighting. In contrast, 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets this sorrow as đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌷𑌾đ‘ŒĻ, a form of 𑌮𑍋𑌹 or delusion, cautioning that true wisdom transcends grief for the living and the dead. This tension between heartfelt compassion and the call for discernment is echoed in the Upanishadic injunction 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠𑌤 𑌜𑌾𑌗𑍍𑌰𑌤 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œĩ𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧𑌤 from the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 (1.3.14), meaning 'Arise, awake, and learn by approaching the excellent ones.' This verse urges moving beyond paralysis caused by sorrow to seek clarity and right knowledge. Together, these teachings deepen the first paragraph's insight into Arjuna's emotional turmoil and prepare us to consider how compassion, when united with clarity, guides us toward responsible action.

In modern life, this verse is common: you have to speak truth to someone you love, set a boundary with family, or make a hard ethical decision at work. The first wave may be grief and guilt. Do not judge yourself for having a soft heart. Instead, add the missing piece: clarity. Ask, "What action reduces harm in the long run? What is 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 here?" Compassion becomes đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ— when it fuels right action, not when it becomes an excuse to avoid responsibility.

𑌸𑍀đ‘ŒĻ𑌂𑌤đ‘Œŋ 𑌮𑌮 đ‘Œ—đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŖđ‘Œŋ 𑌮𑍁𑌖𑌂 𑌚 đ‘ŒĒ𑌰đ‘Œŋđ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œŋ āĨ¤
đ‘Œĩ𑍇đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĨ𑍁đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚 đ‘Œļ𑌰𑍀𑌰𑍇 𑌮𑍇 𑌰𑍋𑌮𑌹𑌰𑍍𑌷đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚 đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ āĨĨ2đ‘¯āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌸𑍀đ‘ŒĻ𑌂𑌤đ‘Œŋ - sink; fail; grow weak
𑌮𑌮 - my
đ‘Œ—đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŖđ‘Œŋ - limbs
𑌮𑍁𑌖𑌂 - mouth; face
𑌚 - and
đ‘ŒĒ𑌰đ‘Œŋđ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œŋ - dries up
đ‘Œĩ𑍇đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĨ𑍁𑌃 - trembling; shaking
đ‘Œļ𑌰𑍀𑌰𑍇 - in the body
𑌮𑍇 - of me; my
𑌰𑍋𑌮𑌹𑌰𑍍𑌷𑌃 - hair standing on end
đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ - arises

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
My limbs grow weak, my mouth dries up, my body trembles, and my hair stands on end.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
The Gita does not romanticize spiritual crisis; it shows it in the body. Dry mouth, trembling, weakness, goosebumps - these are the physical symptoms of inner conflict. When the mind cannot digest a situation, the nervous system speaks. Arjuna is not making an argument yet; he is reporting what his whole being is experiencing. This honesty is important: you cannot heal what you refuse to feel.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ portrays Arjuna's state here as one of profound weakness, overwhelmed by compassion and torn by fear and uncertainty about 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮, making this verse a vivid expression of his inner turmoil manifesting physically. 𑌮𑌧𑍁𑌸𑍂đ‘ŒĻ𑌨 𑌸𑌰𑌸𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌤𑍀 emphasizes that such bodily symptoms are not mere signs of frailty but the body's truthful response to the mind's confusion. This aligns with the teaching of the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 (1.3.14): 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠𑌤 𑌜𑌾𑌗𑍍𑌰𑌤 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œĩ𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧𑌤-"Arise, awake, and learn by approaching the excellent ones"-which urges awareness and active engagement rather than avoidance. Thus, the Gita does not bypass the body's signals but uses them as a gateway to confront and clarify the turmoil within, preparing the seeker to move beyond paralysis toward right action.

In modern life, learn to recognize your body's signals. If your mouth dries and your chest tightens before a message or meeting, do not ignore it and "power through" blindly. Pause. Take a few slow breaths, relax the jaw, and name the emotion: fear, guilt, anger, or sadness. Then ask, "What is the next right step?" This is not weakness; it is wisdom - using the body as an early warning system so your actions become cleaner.

𑌗𑌾𑌂𑌡𑍀đ‘Œĩ𑌂 𑌸𑍍𑌰𑌂𑌸𑌤𑍇 𑌹𑌸𑍍𑌤𑌾𑌤𑍍 𑌤𑍍đ‘Œĩ 𑌕𑍍𑌚𑍈đ‘Œĩ đ‘ŒĒ𑌰đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒĻđ‘Œšđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ āĨ¤
𑌨 𑌚 đ‘Œļđ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œ¨đ‘‹đ‘ŒŽđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œĩ𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨ𑌾𑌤𑍁𑌂 𑌭𑍍𑌰𑌮𑌤𑍀đ‘Œĩ 𑌚 𑌮𑍇 𑌮𑌨𑌃 āĨĨ30āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌗𑌾𑌂𑌡𑍀đ‘Œĩ𑌂 - Gandiva (Arjuna's bow)
𑌸𑍍𑌰𑌂𑌸𑌤𑍇 - slips; falls away
𑌹𑌸𑍍𑌤𑌾𑌤𑍍 - from the hand
𑌤𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌕𑍍 - skin
𑌚 𑌏đ‘Œĩ - and also
đ‘ŒĒ𑌰đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒĻđ‘Œšđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ - burns; feels on fire
𑌨 - not
𑌚 - and
đ‘Œļ𑌕𑍍𑌨𑍋𑌮đ‘Œŋ - I am able
𑌅đ‘Œĩ𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨ𑌾𑌤𑍁𑌮𑍍 - to stand firm; to remain steady
𑌭𑍍𑌰𑌮𑌤đ‘Œŋ 𑌇đ‘Œĩ - as if spinning/reeling
𑌚 - and
𑌮𑍇 - my
𑌮𑌨𑌃 - mind

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
My Gandiva slips from my hand, my skin burns, I cannot stand steady, and my mind seems to reel.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Arjuna's symbols of competence begin to fail: the 𑌗𑌾𑌂𑌡𑍀đ‘Œĩ slips. This is what inner conflict does - it makes even skilled people feel powerless. The burning skin and reeling mind describe intense stress: the body heats up, the attention scatters, and the will cannot hold a stable center. The verse also shows something subtle: Arjuna is still observing himself. That witnessing awareness is the seed of the solution - because the one who can see the storm is not identical with the storm.

The verse vividly portrays Arjuna's profound inner turmoil, a theme emphasized by đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯, who highlights Arjuna's grief and fear of losing his loved ones, causing his mind to reel and his body to falter. This depiction of psychological collapse is not mere drama but a sincere expression of human vulnerability. 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ later elucidates the distinction between the Self and the restless mind, and Arjuna's ability to observe, "my mind reels," reveals the presence of a witnessing consciousness beyond the storm of emotions. This aligns with the Upanishadic teaching 𑌨 đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ 𑌮𑍍𑌰đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ đ‘Œĩ𑌾 đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍍 from the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 (1.2.18), which means the true Self is unborn, eternal, and beyond death, underscoring that Arjuna's essential being remains untouched despite his mental upheaval. Recognizing this witnessing Self is crucial, as it prepares the ground for the practical guidance that follows, encouraging steadiness before action.

In modern life, when your "Gandiva" slips - when your usual strengths fail under pressure - do not panic and label yourself as broken. Treat it as a signal: you need steadiness before action. Return to basics: breathe, sleep, eat simply, talk to someone wise, and take one small step. When the mind reels, reduce choices. Clarity returns when you stop feeding the storm.

𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌮đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍍𑌤𑌾𑌨đ‘Œŋ 𑌚 đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘ŒĒ𑌰𑍀𑌤𑌾𑌨đ‘Œŋ 𑌕𑍇đ‘Œļđ‘Œĩ āĨ¤
𑌨 𑌚 đ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘‡đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘ŒŊ𑌨𑍁đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œŋ 𑌹𑌤𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌾 𑌸𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌜𑌨𑌮𑌾𑌹đ‘Œĩ𑍇 āĨĨ31āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌮đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍍𑌤𑌾𑌨đ‘Œŋ - omens; signs; indications
𑌚 - and
đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œŋ - I see
đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘ŒĒ𑌰𑍀𑌤𑌾𑌨đ‘Œŋ - adverse; contrary
𑌕𑍇đ‘Œļđ‘Œĩ - O Keshava (Krishna)
𑌨 - not
𑌚 - and
đ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘‡đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œƒ - good; welfare; benefit
𑌅𑌨𑍁đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œŋ - I foresee; I perceive
𑌹𑌤𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌾 - having killed
𑌸𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌜𑌨𑌂 - one's own people
𑌆𑌹đ‘Œĩ𑍇 - in battle

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
I see adverse signs, O Keshava, and I do not foresee any good in killing my own people in battle.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Arjuna moves from bodily symptoms to interpretation: "I see đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘ŒĒ𑌰𑍀𑌤 𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌮đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍍𑌤s." Whether you take this as literal omens or as moral intuition, the meaning is clear: his conscience is warning him. The phrase 𑌨 𑌚 đ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘‡đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘ŒŊ𑌨𑍁đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œŋ is the heart of the crisis: he cannot connect the act of killing relatives with any lasting good. Without that connection, action feels like sin, not like duty.

The term đ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘‡đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¸đ‘ here signifies true welfare or highest good, emphasizing enduring benefit rather than fleeting gain. đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ explains that Arjuna's fear stems from his confusion about what is righteous and unrighteous, causing his conscience to perceive only loss and sorrow. Meanwhile, 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ teaches that Arjuna's judgment is clouded by attachment and ignorance; genuine đ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘‡đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¸đ‘ arises from performing one's 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 with clear understanding and dispassion. This aligns with the Upanishadic injunction 𑌤𑌮𑌸𑍋 𑌮𑌾 đ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ—đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¯ from the đ‘ŒŦ𑍃𑌹đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘ŒŖđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ• 𑌉đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍, which means 'Lead me from darkness to light,' symbolizing the movement from delusion to true knowledge. Thus, Arjuna's inner turmoil is a call to transcend confusion and align his conscience with wisdom, preparing us to discern whether our inner warnings arise from fear or insight.

In modern life, it is good to listen when your inner sense says "something is off." But it is also important to check whether the warning comes from wisdom or from fear. Ask two questions: "What harm am I trying to avoid?" and "What harm will happen if I avoid my duty?" Then take counsel from someone steady. The goal is not to remove discomfort; it is to align with the deeper good.

𑌨 𑌕𑌾𑌂𑌕𑍍𑌷𑍇 đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘Œœđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚ đ‘Œ•đ‘ƒđ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘ŒŖ 𑌨 𑌚 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚ 𑌸𑍁𑌖𑌾𑌨đ‘Œŋ 𑌚 āĨ¤
𑌕đ‘Œŋ𑌂 𑌨𑍋 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡đ‘Œ¨ 𑌗𑍋đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌂đ‘ŒĻ 𑌕đ‘Œŋ𑌂 𑌭𑍋𑌗𑍈𑌰𑍍𑌜𑍀đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍇𑌨 đ‘Œĩ𑌾 āĨĨ32āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌨 - not
𑌕𑌾𑌂𑌕𑍍𑌷𑍇 - I desire
đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘Œœđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚ - victory
đ‘Œ•đ‘ƒđ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘ŒŖ - O Krishna
𑌨 - not
𑌚 - and
đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚ - kingdom
𑌸𑍁𑌖𑌾𑌨đ‘Œŋ - pleasures; comforts
𑌚 - and
𑌕đ‘Œŋ𑌂 - what use?
𑌨𑌃 - to us
đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡đ‘Œ¨ - by kingdom
𑌗𑍋đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌂đ‘ŒĻ - O Govinda (Krishna)
𑌕đ‘Œŋ𑌂 - what use?
𑌭𑍋𑌗𑍈𑌃 - by enjoyments
𑌜𑍀đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍇𑌨 - by life
đ‘Œĩ𑌾 - or

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
O Krishna, I do not want victory, kingdom, or pleasures. What use are kingdom, enjoyments, or even life to us, O Govinda?

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Arjuna's desire collapses. The normal rewards of battle - victory, power, comfort - lose meaning when the heart sees the cost. This is not yet đ‘Œĩđ‘ˆđ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œ—đ‘đ‘Œ¯ (true dispassion); it is grief-shock. But it still contains a truth: pleasures do not heal a wounded conscience. When you get what you wanted by doing what you know is wrong, the mind does not celebrate; it burns.

Arjuna's poignant question, "What is the use?" captures his deep inner turmoil, as đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ explains that his mind is overwhelmed by the pain of impending separation from loved ones, rendering worldly success meaningless. 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ later clarifies that this sorrowful renunciation is only the beginning; true renunciation arises from wisdom, where one perceives the Self beyond transient gains and acts without attachment. This transition is echoed in the Upanishadic prayer đ‘ŒŽđ‘ƒđ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œž 𑌅𑌮𑍃𑌤𑌂 đ‘Œ—đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¯ from the đ‘ŒŦ𑍃𑌹đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘ŒŖđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ• 𑌉đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍, which means "Lead me from death to immortality," symbolizing the movement from grief-bound desires to spiritual freedom. Thus, this verse lays the foundation for evolving from grief to genuine detachment, preparing the seeker to discern what is truly worth pursuing in life.

In modern life, this verse is a powerful check. If you are chasing something - a job, status, money, or applause - ask, "If I get it in an unethical way, will it actually make me happy?" Often the honest answer is no. Use that clarity to choose cleaner methods. True success is not just an outcome; it is an outcome you can live with.

đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡đ‘Œˇđ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒĨ𑍇 𑌕𑌾𑌂𑌕𑍍𑌷đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌂 𑌨𑌃 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚ 𑌭𑍋𑌗𑌾𑌃 𑌸𑍁𑌖𑌾𑌨đ‘Œŋ 𑌚 āĨ¤
𑌤 𑌇𑌮𑍇đ‘ŒŊđ‘Œĩ𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾 đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌧𑍇 đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŖđ‘Œžđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œĩ𑌾 𑌧𑌨𑌾𑌨đ‘Œŋ 𑌚 āĨĨ33āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡đ‘Œˇđ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘ - of whom
𑌅𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ𑍇 - for the sake of
𑌕𑌾𑌂𑌕𑍍𑌷đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌂 - desired
𑌨𑌃 - by us
đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚ - kingdom
𑌭𑍋𑌗𑌾𑌃 - enjoyments
𑌸𑍁𑌖𑌾𑌨đ‘Œŋ - pleasures
𑌚 - and
𑌤𑍇 - those people
𑌇𑌮𑍇 - these
𑌅đ‘Œĩ𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌃 - are standing
đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌧𑍇 - in battle
đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŖđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘ - lives
đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œĩ𑌾 - having given up
𑌧𑌨𑌾𑌨đ‘Œŋ - wealth
𑌚 - and

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
Those for whose sake we wanted kingdom, pleasures, and comforts are standing here in battle, ready to give up their lives and wealth.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Arjuna points to the tragedy of worldly ambition: the "beneficiaries" of victory are the very ones who will be destroyed by it. He wanted a kingdom for elders, family, and community, but now he sees those same people standing as opponents. The mind begins to ask a painful question: "If the goal removes what I love, what is the goal worth?" This is a moment where the heart exposes the hidden cost of desire.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ highlights Arjuna's deep affection and compassion for his relatives, which intensifies the inner conflict he experiences at seeing them as adversaries. This relational love makes the prospect of battle unbearable, revealing how attachment can cloud judgment. Meanwhile, 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ teaches that one must perform 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 without attachment to results, because when desires govern action, outcomes often bring suffering rather than joy. This is echoed in the Upanishadic prayer đ‘ŒŽđ‘ƒđ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œž 𑌅𑌮𑍃𑌤𑌂 đ‘Œ—đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¯ from the đ‘ŒŦ𑍃𑌹đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘ŒŖđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ• 𑌉đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍, which means 'Lead me from death to immortality,' symbolizing the aspiration to transcend the cycle of pain caused by clinging to transient goals. Together, these insights deepen the understanding that unexamined desires, even for noble ends, can lead to inner turmoil and loss, setting the stage for the practical reflection on one's goals in the following paragraph.

In modern life, check your goals with this verse. Are you working so hard that you are losing the people you claim you are working "for"? Are you winning arguments while losing relationships? Sometimes ambition needs a reset: not to become lazy, but to become wise. Let your goals serve life, not consume it.

đ‘Œ†đ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œƒ đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌰𑌃 đ‘ŒĒ𑍁𑌤𑍍𑌰𑌾𑌃 𑌤đ‘ŒĨ𑍈đ‘Œĩ 𑌚 đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌮𑌹𑌾𑌃 āĨ¤
𑌮𑌾𑌤𑍁𑌲𑌾𑌃 đ‘Œļ𑍍đ‘Œĩđ‘Œļ𑍁𑌰𑌾𑌃 đ‘ŒĒ𑍌𑌤𑍍𑌰𑌾𑌃 đ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œ˛đ‘Œžđ‘Œƒ 𑌸𑌂đ‘ŒŦ𑌂𑌧đ‘Œŋ𑌨𑌸𑍍𑌤đ‘ŒĨ𑌾 āĨĨ34āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
đ‘Œ†đ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œƒ - teachers
đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌰𑌃 - fathers
đ‘ŒĒ𑍁𑌤𑍍𑌰𑌾𑌃 - sons
𑌤đ‘ŒĨ𑌾 𑌏đ‘Œĩ - and also
đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌮𑌹𑌾𑌃 - grandfathers
𑌮𑌾𑌤𑍁𑌲𑌾𑌃 - maternal uncles
đ‘Œļ𑍍đ‘Œĩđ‘Œļ𑍁𑌰𑌾𑌃 - fathers-in-law
đ‘ŒĒ𑍌𑌤𑍍𑌰𑌾𑌃 - grandsons
đ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œ˛đ‘Œžđ‘Œƒ - brothers-in-law
𑌸𑌂đ‘ŒŦ𑌂𑌧đ‘Œŋ𑌨𑌃 - relatives; connected people
𑌤đ‘ŒĨ𑌾 - also

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
Teachers, fathers, sons, grandfathers, uncles, fathers-in-law, grandsons, brothers-in-law, and other relatives are all here.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Arjuna repeats the list, almost as if his mind cannot accept it. When grief is overwhelming, the mind circles the same facts again and again. The verse is also teaching a deep psychological truth: what hurts us most is not the loss of an "enemy"; it is the loss of a bond. By naming đ‘Œ†đ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯, đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾, đ‘ŒĒ𑍁𑌤𑍍𑌰, and 𑌸𑌂đ‘ŒŦ𑌂𑌧đ‘Œŋ, Arjuna is showing that his identity is woven through relationships - and that is why the thought of killing feels like tearing himself apart.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ highlights Arjuna's profound compassion and friendliness (𑌸𑍁𑌹𑍃𑌤𑍍 nature), which prevents him from viewing his relatives as mere adversaries, deepening his sorrow. Meanwhile, 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ teaches that the true Self transcends these transient relationships and should remain unshaken by such attachments; he encourages Arjuna to act from this higher awareness, performing his duty without hatred or confusion. This aligns with the Upanishadic wisdom 𑌨 đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ 𑌮𑍍𑌰đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ đ‘Œĩ𑌾 đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍍 from the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 (1.2.18), which affirms the eternal nature of the Self beyond birth and death, offering a foundation for detachment amidst grief. Recognizing the pain of losing bonds while embracing this deeper identity prepares Arjuna-and us-to move beyond paralysis toward decisive action, as explored in the following paragraph.

In modern life, when you are stuck in indecision, notice if you are looping. If you keep repeating the same worries, it may be time to step back and find a clearer principle. Write down the core values involved, seek counsel, and decide on the next right step. Relationships matter, but so does integrity. The Gita will teach how to honor bonds without becoming imprisoned by them.

𑌏𑌤𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨 𑌹𑌂𑌤𑍁𑌮đ‘Œŋ𑌚𑍍𑌛𑌾𑌮đ‘Œŋ 𑌘𑍍𑌨𑌤𑍋đ‘ŒŊđ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ 𑌮𑌧𑍁𑌸𑍂đ‘ŒĻ𑌨 āĨ¤
𑌅đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘ˆđ‘Œ˛đ‘‹đ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ¯ 𑌹𑍇𑌤𑍋𑌃 𑌕đ‘Œŋ𑌂 𑌨𑍁 𑌮𑌹𑍀𑌕𑍃𑌤𑍇 āĨĨ35āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌏𑌤𑌾𑌨𑍍 - these people
𑌨 - not
𑌹𑌂𑌤𑍁𑌂 - to kill
𑌇𑌚𑍍𑌛𑌾𑌮đ‘Œŋ - I wish
𑌘𑍍𑌨𑌤𑌃 𑌅đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ - even if killed
𑌮𑌧𑍁𑌸𑍂đ‘ŒĻ𑌨 - O Madhusudana (Krishna)
𑌅đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ - even
đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘ˆđ‘Œ˛đ‘‹đ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œ¯ - of the three worlds
đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ¯ - kingdom; sovereignty
𑌹𑍇𑌤𑍋𑌃 - for the sake of
𑌕đ‘Œŋ𑌂 𑌨𑍁 - what then?
𑌮𑌹𑍀-𑌕𑍃𑌤𑍇 - for the earth (kingdom of the earth)

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
O Madhusudana, I do not wish to kill these people even if they kill me - not even for sovereignty over the three worlds, much less for the sake of this earth.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Arjuna reaches an extreme conclusion: "Let them kill me; I still will not kill them." The name he uses - 𑌮𑌧𑍁𑌸𑍂đ‘ŒĻ𑌨 - is striking, because Krishna is known as the slayer of a demon, the destroyer of evil. Arjuna is almost saying, "You who destroy evil, how can you ask me to destroy my own people?" He also contrasts cosmic reward (đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘ˆđ‘Œ˛đ‘‹đ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œ¯) with moral cost, declaring that no reward can justify this act. The verse shows how grief can turn into a kind of moral absolutism that refuses to see the full 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮-context.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets Arjuna's refusal not as cowardice but as a profound expression of đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑍇𑌮 and compassion, emphasizing the real human struggle behind his words. This understanding makes Arjuna's dilemma a genuine moral crisis that invites Krishna's transformative teaching. Meanwhile, 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ views this refusal as the product of 𑌮𑍋𑌹 (delusion), urging Arjuna to transcend attachment to bodily relations and realize the eternal Self, as reflected in the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 statement: 𑌨 đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ 𑌮𑍍𑌰đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ đ‘Œĩ𑌾 đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍍 ('The wise one neither is born nor dies'). This verse from the Upanishads highlights the imperishable nature of the true Self, which is beyond birth and death, thus challenging Arjuna's limited perspective. These perspectives deepen the initial verse's tension between worldly attachment and spiritual wisdom, preparing the ground for the practical guidance Krishna will offer, as discussed in the following paragraph.

In modern life, we can also swing into absolutes: "I will never confront", "I will never say no", "I will just suffer quietly." Sometimes that looks like compassion, but it can be fear wearing a noble mask. The practice is to separate compassion from avoidance. Ask, "Is my refusal protecting 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮, or protecting my comfort?" When you are guided by conscience and clarity, you can take hard action without hatred - and that is what Krishna will teach.

𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘Œšđ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¯ 𑌧𑌾𑌰𑍍𑌤𑌰𑌾𑌷𑍍𑌟𑍍𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨𑌃 𑌕𑌾 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑍀𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌃 đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œ¨đ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒĻ𑌨 āĨ¤
đ‘ŒĒ𑌾đ‘ŒĒ𑌮𑍇đ‘Œĩ𑌾đ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡đ‘ŒĻ𑌸𑍍𑌮𑌾𑌨𑍍 𑌹𑌤𑍍đ‘Œĩđ‘ˆđ‘Œ¤đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¤đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œŋ𑌨𑌃 āĨĨ36āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘Œšđ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¯ - having killed
𑌧𑌾𑌰𑍍𑌤𑌰𑌾𑌷𑍍𑌟𑍍𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍 - the sons of Dhritarashtra
𑌨𑌃 - to us; for us
𑌕𑌾 - what?
đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑍀𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌃 - joy; satisfaction
đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¤đ‘ - would be
𑌜𑌨𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĻ𑌨 - O Janardana (Krishna)
đ‘ŒĒ𑌾đ‘ŒĒ𑌮𑍍 - sin; wrongdoing
𑌏đ‘Œĩ - indeed; only
𑌆đ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡đ‘Œ¤đ‘ - would cling; would take hold
𑌅𑌸𑍍𑌮𑌾𑌨𑍍 - to us
𑌹𑌤𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌾 - having killed
𑌏𑌤𑌾𑌨𑍍 - these
đ‘Œ†đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œŋ𑌨𑌃 - aggressors; criminals who commit grave offenses

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
O Janardana, what joy would be ours if we kill the sons of Dhritarashtra? Sin would cling to us by killing these aggressors.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Arjuna is now fully conflicted. He calls them đ‘Œ†đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œŋ𑌨𑌃 - aggressors, people guilty of grave harm - and yet he says killing them will bring đ‘ŒĒ𑌾đ‘ŒĒ. This is the mind in moral shock: it sees wrongdoing clearly, but it cannot digest the cost of confronting it. Notice how the verse mixes two truths: (1) injustice is real, and (2) violence leaves stains on the heart. The Gita will not deny either; it will teach how to act without hatred and without selfish motive.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets Arjuna's designation of the enemy as đ‘Œ†đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œŋ𑌨𑌃 to reflect their grave offenses, emphasizing Arjuna's deep compassion and moral turmoil that causes him to fear accruing đ‘ŒĒ𑌾đ‘ŒĒ despite the necessity of battle. 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ highlights that Arjuna's sorrow stems from delusion, urging that one must transcend attachment and act according to 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 with clear understanding rather than emotional weakness. This aligns with the teaching in the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 (1.3.14): 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠𑌤 𑌜𑌾𑌗𑍍𑌰𑌤 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œĩ𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧𑌤-'Arise, awake, and learn by approaching the excellent ones'-which calls for awakening to one's duty beyond confusion and fear. Together, these insights caution against allowing the fear of sin to paralyze righteous action, preparing the way for practical guidance on maintaining purity of heart while confronting difficult responsibilities.

In modern life, you may face smaller versions of this: reporting fraud at work, stopping bullying, or setting boundaries with someone who keeps harming others. It can feel "dirty" to confront, and you may fear being judged. The practice is to act from protection, not from revenge. If you must be firm, be firm. But keep the heart clean: no gloating, no cruelty, no hatred. That is how you reduce harm without becoming the harm.

𑌤𑌸𑍍𑌮𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨𑌾𑌰𑍍𑌹𑌾 đ‘Œĩđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚ 𑌹𑌂𑌤𑍁𑌂 𑌧𑌾𑌰𑍍𑌤𑌰𑌾𑌷𑍍𑌟𑍍𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌸𑍍đ‘Œĩđ‘ŒŦ𑌾𑌂𑌧đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌨𑍍 āĨ¤
𑌸𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌜𑌨𑌂 𑌹đ‘Œŋ 𑌕đ‘ŒĨ𑌂 𑌹𑌤𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌾 𑌸𑍁𑌖đ‘Œŋ𑌨𑌃 đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽ 𑌮𑌾𑌧đ‘Œĩ āĨĨ3𑍭āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌤𑌸𑍍𑌮𑌾𑌤𑍍 - therefore
𑌨 - not
𑌅𑌰𑍍𑌹𑌾𑌃 - fit; worthy
đ‘Œĩđ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒŽđ‘ - we
𑌹𑌂𑌤𑍁𑌂 - to kill
𑌧𑌾𑌰𑍍𑌤𑌰𑌾𑌷𑍍𑌟𑍍𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍 - the sons of Dhritarashtra
𑌸𑍍đ‘Œĩ-đ‘ŒŦ𑌾𑌂𑌧đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌨𑍍 - our own relatives
𑌸𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌜𑌨𑌂 - one's own people
𑌹đ‘Œŋ - indeed
𑌕đ‘ŒĨ𑌂 - how?
𑌹𑌤𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌾 - having killed
𑌸𑍁𑌖đ‘Œŋ𑌨𑌃 - happy
đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽ - would we be
𑌮𑌾𑌧đ‘Œĩ - O Madhava (Krishna)

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
Therefore we are not fit to kill the sons of Dhritarashtra, our own kinsmen. O Madhava, how could we be happy after killing our own people?

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Arjuna turns his feeling into a conclusion: "therefore we should not." This is how the mind tries to escape unbearable tension - by choosing one value and ignoring the other. His key word is 𑌸𑍁𑌖: he cannot imagine happiness after such an act. The verse reveals a deep truth: outer victory does not guarantee inner peace. But it also hides a mistake: 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 is not decided by what feels comfortable in the moment. Sometimes 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 is painful, and the happiness it brings is deeper and slower.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets Arjuna's hesitation as stemming from profound compassion for his kin, emphasizing that Krishna must respond with empathy and clear guidance rather than reproach. In contrast, 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ views this sorrow as 𑌕𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒŖđ‘đ‘Œ¯-a weakness of heart-and 𑌮𑍋𑌹, which obscure true knowledge and hinder righteous action. This tension between heartfelt compassion and the demands of 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 is reflected in the Upanishadic prayer đ‘ŒŽđ‘ƒđ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œž 𑌅𑌮𑍃𑌤𑌂 đ‘Œ—đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¯ from the đ‘ŒŦ𑍃𑌹đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘ŒŖđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ• 𑌉đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍, which means 'lead me from death to immortality.' It highlights the spiritual journey from attachment and ignorance toward higher truth and liberation. Thus, the commentarial tradition does not dismiss Arjuna's feelings but seeks to transform his compassion into a force that supports 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮, preparing the way for the practical resolve discussed next.

In modern life, do not measure every decision by immediate comfort. Ask instead: "What will I respect myself for, five years from now?" Sometimes telling the truth today creates temporary pain but long-term trust. Sometimes saying "no" to a harmful pattern hurts in the moment but protects everyone later. Happiness that comes from integrity is sturdier than happiness that comes from avoidance.

đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ 𑌨 đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œŋ 𑌲𑍋𑌭𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌹𑌤𑌚𑍇𑌤𑌸𑌃 āĨ¤
đ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œ˛đ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œˇđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ•đ‘ƒđ‘Œ¤đ‘Œ‚ đ‘ŒĻ𑍋𑌷𑌂 𑌮đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍍𑌰đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌰𑍋𑌹𑍇 𑌚 đ‘ŒĒ𑌾𑌤𑌕𑌮𑍍 āĨĨ3𑍮āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ - even though
𑌏𑌤𑍇 - these people
𑌨 - not
đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œŋ - see; understand
𑌲𑍋𑌭 - greed
𑌉đ‘ŒĒ𑌹𑌤 - struck/afflicted
𑌚𑍇𑌤𑌸𑌃 - minds
𑌕𑍁𑌲-đ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œˇđ‘Œ¯ - destruction of the family
𑌕𑍃𑌤𑌮𑍍 - caused; made
đ‘ŒĻ𑍋𑌷𑌂 - fault; evil consequence
𑌮đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍍𑌰-đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌰𑍋𑌹𑍇 - in betrayal of friends
𑌚 - and
đ‘ŒĒ𑌾𑌤𑌕𑌮𑍍 - sin; grave wrongdoing

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
Even though these people, their minds ruined by greed, do not see the evil in destroying the family or the sin in betraying friends...

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Arjuna now critiques the Kaurava side: they are 𑌲𑍋𑌭𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌹𑌤𑌚𑍇𑌤𑌸𑌃 - minds struck by greed. Greed is not only wanting more; it is wanting more even when it breaks what is sacred. Arjuna sees two layers of wrongdoing: (1) the breaking of the family line and its duties, and (2) the betrayal of friendship and trust. The tragedy is that greed narrows vision: people stop seeing consequences and start seeing only the prize.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ emphasizes Arjuna's clear perception of the Kauravas' 𑌲𑍋𑌭𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌹𑌤𑌚𑍇𑌤𑌸𑌃-their minds clouded and overpowered by greed, which blinds them to the sin of destroying family and betraying friends. This corruption of motive contrasts with Arjuna's own inner turmoil, which 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets as being overpowered not by greed but by attachment and delusion, both of which obstruct the path of 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮. The teaching here aligns with the wisdom of the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 (1.3.14): 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠𑌤 𑌜𑌾𑌗𑍍𑌰𑌤 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œĩ𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧𑌤-'Arise, awake, and learn by approaching the excellent ones.' This injunction calls for vigilance against any overpowering impulses that cloud judgment, urging the seeker to awaken from ignorance and act with clarity. Thus, the verse warns that whether it is greed or attachment, any force that overpowers the mind leads to moral blindness, setting the stage for practical steps to recognize and resist such impulses.

In modern life, greed shows up as cheating, cutting corners, destroying relationships for profit, or burning people out for a goal. The practice is to notice the first signs of 𑌲𑍋𑌭: rationalizing, hiding, or becoming insensitive. Stop early. Choose honesty even when it costs you short-term advantage. Greed promises gain, but it often delivers inner emptiness and broken trust.

𑌕đ‘ŒĨ𑌂 𑌨 đ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œžđ‘‡đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ­đ‘Œŋ𑌃 đ‘ŒĒ𑌾đ‘ŒĒ𑌾đ‘ŒĻ𑌸𑍍𑌮𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘Œĩ𑌰𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍁𑌮𑍍 āĨ¤
đ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œ˛đ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œˇđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ•đ‘ƒđ‘Œ¤đ‘Œ‚ đ‘ŒĻ𑍋𑌷𑌂 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌭đ‘Œŋ𑌰𑍍𑌜𑌨𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĻ𑌨 āĨĨ3đ‘¯āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌕đ‘ŒĨ𑌂 - how
𑌨 - not
đ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œžđ‘‡đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒŽđ‘ - should be known; should be understood
𑌅𑌸𑍍𑌮𑌾𑌭đ‘Œŋ𑌃 - by us
đ‘ŒĒ𑌾đ‘ŒĒ𑌾𑌤𑍍 - from sin; from wrongdoing
𑌅𑌸𑍍𑌮𑌾𑌤𑍍 - from this
𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘Œĩ𑌰𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍁𑌮𑍍 - to turn back; to withdraw
𑌕𑍁𑌲-đ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œˇđ‘Œ¯ - destruction of the family
𑌕𑍃𑌤𑌮𑍍 - caused
đ‘ŒĻ𑍋𑌷𑌂 - fault; evil consequence
đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌭đ‘Œŋ𑌃 - by those who see clearly
𑌜𑌨𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĻ𑌨 - O Janardana (Krishna)

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
O Janardana, how can we - who see clearly the fault in destroying the family - not know to turn away from this sin?

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Arjuna appeals to Krishna as if the answer is obvious: "We see the fault; therefore we should withdraw." The phrase đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌭đ‘Œŋ𑌃 - "we who see clearly" - is important, because it shows Arjuna believes his moral perception is already complete. But the Gita will challenge him: seeing one consequence is not the same as seeing the whole 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮-picture. Arjuna is sincere, yet sincerity alone does not guarantee correct discernment.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ explains that Arjuna's apparent certainty about the sin of destroying the family is clouded by his confusion about what is truly dharmic and what is not, highlighting his need for Krishna's deeper guidance. Meanwhile, 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ points out that Arjuna's so-called clear vision is mixed with 𑌮𑍋𑌹 (delusion), and true discernment arises only through self-knowledge and understanding one's duty. This aligns with the Upanishadic injunction 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠𑌤 𑌜𑌾𑌗𑍍𑌰𑌤 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œĩ𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧𑌤 from the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 (1.3.14), which urges one to 'Arise, awake, and learn the excellent wisdom,' emphasizing that awakening to true knowledge is essential before making moral decisions. Thus, while Arjuna sees the immediate evil, he has yet to awaken to the full 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 context, preparing the way for the practical reflections in the next paragraph.

In modern life, be humble about your certainty. You may see a danger in one direction, but you may not see the harm created by avoiding responsibility. When you are tempted to withdraw, ask: "What am I protecting? What am I avoiding? What would a wise person advise?" True courage is not always fighting; sometimes it is stepping back. But stepping back must be guided by clarity, not by fear.

đ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œ˛đ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œˇđ‘Œ¯đ‘‡ đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘ŒŖđ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œŋ 𑌕𑍁𑌲𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮𑌾𑌃 𑌸𑌨𑌾𑌤𑌨𑌾𑌃 āĨ¤
𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮𑍇 𑌨𑌷𑍍𑌟𑍇 𑌕𑍁𑌲𑌂 𑌕𑍃𑌤𑍍𑌸𑍍𑌨𑌮𑍍 𑌅𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮𑍋đ‘ŒŊ𑌭đ‘Œŋ𑌭đ‘Œĩđ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œ¤ āĨĨ40āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌕𑍁𑌲-đ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œˇđ‘Œ¯đ‘‡ - in the destruction of the family
đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘ŒŖđ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œŋ - perish; are destroyed
𑌕𑍁𑌲-𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮𑌾𑌃 - family duties/traditions
𑌸𑌨𑌾𑌤𑌨𑌾𑌃 - ancient; long-established
𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮𑍇 - when 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮
𑌨𑌷𑍍𑌟𑍇 - is lost
𑌕𑍁𑌲𑌂 - the family/community
𑌕𑍃𑌤𑍍𑌸𑍍𑌨𑌮𑍍 - entire; wholly
𑌅𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮𑌃 - adharma; unrighteousness
𑌅𑌭đ‘Œŋ𑌭đ‘Œĩ𑌤đ‘Œŋ - overwhelms; overpowers
𑌉𑌤 - indeed

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
When a family is destroyed, its ancient duties and traditions perish; when dharma is lost, adharma overwhelms the entire family.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Arjuna now shifts from personal grief to social consequence. 𑌕𑍁𑌲-𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 is not merely ritual; it is the set of responsibilities, values, and supports that hold a community together: caring for elders, raising children, honoring learning, and keeping trust. Arjuna fears that when the protecting structure collapses, 𑌅𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 rushes in - not as a demon from outside, but as the slow decay of ethics. Whether or not you agree with every detail of his argument, the principle is recognizable: when institutions collapse, chaos multiplies.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ emphasizes that Arjuna's concern arises from real historical betrayals and the resulting social instability, grounding his fear in concrete experience rather than mere speculation. Meanwhile, 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ acknowledges the social consequences of 𑌅𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 but later advises transcending grief and attachment to uphold 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 steadfastly. This teaching aligns with the Upanishadic prayer 𑌤𑌮𑌸𑍋 𑌮𑌾 đ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ—đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¯ from the đ‘ŒŦ𑍃𑌹đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘ŒŖđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ• 𑌉đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍, which means "Lead me from darkness to light," symbolizing the movement from ignorance and disorder to knowledge and order. Thus, Arjuna's lament about the destruction of 𑌕𑍁𑌲𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮𑌾𑌃 𑌸𑌨𑌾𑌤𑌨𑌾𑌃 highlights the urgent need to protect enduring family and social values, setting the stage for practical guidance on preserving and renewing these traditions in daily life.

In modern life, think of "kuladharma" as the healthy habits that protect a family: honest communication, accountability, education, and care. When these are destroyed, cycles repeat - addiction, abuse, neglect, and distrust. The practice is to protect the good traditions in your home and community, and to replace harmful traditions with healthier ones. That is 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 in action.

𑌅𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮𑌾𑌭đ‘Œŋ𑌭đ‘Œĩđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ•đ‘ƒđ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘ŒŖ đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œŋ 𑌕𑍁𑌲𑌸𑍍𑌤𑍍𑌰đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œƒ āĨ¤
𑌸𑍍𑌤𑍍𑌰𑍀𑌷𑍁 đ‘ŒĻ𑍁𑌷𑍍𑌟𑌾𑌸𑍁 đ‘Œĩđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘ŒŖđ‘‡đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ đ‘Œĩđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒŖđ‘Œ¸đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œƒ āĨĨ41āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌅𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 - adharma; unrighteousness
𑌅𑌭đ‘Œŋ𑌭đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌤𑍍 - from the overpowering
đ‘Œ•đ‘ƒđ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘ŒŖ - O Krishna
đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œŋ - become corrupted; become degraded
𑌕𑍁𑌲-𑌸𑍍𑌤𑍍𑌰đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œƒ - women of the family/community
𑌸𑍍𑌤𑍍𑌰𑍀𑌷𑍁 - among women
đ‘ŒĻ𑍁𑌷𑍍𑌟𑌾𑌸𑍁 - when corrupted/degraded
đ‘Œĩđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘ŒŖđ‘‡đ‘Œ¯ - O descendant of the Vrishni clan (Krishna)
đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ - arises
đ‘Œĩđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒŖ-𑌸𑌂𑌕𑌰𑌃 - social confusion; intermixture of social roles/lineages

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
O Krishna, when adharma prevails, the women of the family are corrupted; and when women are corrupted, O Varshneya, social confusion (đ‘Œĩđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒŖđ‘Œ¸đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œƒ) arises.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
This verse is often misunderstood if we read it superficially. Arjuna is speaking from his social context, where family stability and protection were closely tied to the safety and dignity of women and children. His fear is: when adharma dominates and the protectors of the family are destroyed, vulnerability increases, exploitation rises, and children are born into unstable conditions without clear support, education, or responsibility. He calls the result đ‘Œĩđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒŖđ‘Œ¸đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ° - not simply "caste mixing" as a slogan, but a wider social confusion where roles, duties, and continuity become muddled.

The term đ‘Œĩđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒŖđ‘Œ¸đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ° here is understood by đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ as a symptom of a deeper societal breakdown where 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 itself is endangered, not merely a literal mixing of social classes. 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ emphasizes that Arjuna's distress should not lead to despair or inaction; instead, it calls for the restoration of 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 through disciplined action and spiritual knowledge. This aligns with the Upanishadic guidance 𑌤𑌮𑌸𑍋 𑌮𑌾 đ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ—đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¯-"from darkness, lead me to light"-which highlights the need to move from ignorance and disorder toward clarity and righteousness. Thus, Arjuna's concern reflects a profound ethical awareness of the consequences of adharma, urging us to recognize that the root cause lies in the failure to uphold duty, not in blaming vulnerable members of society. This understanding bridges the initial recognition of social harm to the practical call for protecting 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 in daily life.

In modern life, the core lesson is: when violence and injustice rise, the most vulnerable suffer first. When families break and support systems collapse, children grow up without guidance, and society pays the price for generations. So protect 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 where you are: create safe homes, respect and protect women, educate children, and refuse to normalize exploitation. This is a verse about responsibility, not about prejudice.

𑌸𑌂𑌕𑌰𑍋 đ‘Œ¨đ‘Œ°đ‘Œ•đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘ˆđ‘Œĩ 𑌕𑍁𑌲𑌘𑍍𑌨𑌾𑌨𑌾𑌂 đ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œ˛đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ¯ 𑌚 āĨ¤
đ‘ŒĒ𑌤𑌂𑌤đ‘Œŋ đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌰𑍋 đ‘Œšđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡đ‘Œˇđ‘Œžđ‘Œ‚ 𑌲𑍁đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌤đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ𑌂𑌡𑍋đ‘ŒĻ𑌕𑌕𑍍𑌰đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œƒ āĨĨ42āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌸𑌂𑌕𑌰𑌃 - mixture/confusion; disorder
đ‘Œ¨đ‘Œ°đ‘Œ•đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯ - for hell; for downfall
𑌏đ‘Œĩ - indeed
𑌕𑍁𑌲𑌘𑍍𑌨𑌆𑌨𑌾𑌮𑍍 - of the destroyers of the family
đ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œ˛đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ¯ - of the family/community
𑌚 - and
đ‘ŒĒ𑌤𑌂𑌤đ‘Œŋ - fall; are ruined
đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌰𑌃 - ancestors
𑌹đ‘Œŋ - indeed
𑌏𑌷𑌾𑌮𑍍 - of these people
𑌲𑍁đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌤 - lost; deprived
đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ𑌂𑌡 - rice-ball offering (symbol of care for ancestors)
𑌉đ‘ŒĻ𑌕 - water offering
𑌕𑍍𑌰đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œƒ - rites; duties; acts

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
Such disorder leads to downfall for the family-destroyers and the family; their ancestors fall, deprived of the rites of offerings of đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ𑌂𑌡 and 𑌉đ‘ŒĻ𑌕.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Arjuna continues the chain of consequences using the language of his tradition. đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ𑌂𑌡 and 𑌉đ‘ŒĻ𑌕 rites represent continuity, gratitude, and responsibility toward those who came before. When a family collapses through violence, the living stop doing their duties, and the connection to ancestors becomes broken - materially, emotionally, and spiritually. Whether you take "ancestors fall" literally or symbolically, the teaching is about severed continuity: a society that forgets gratitude and duty loses its roots.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets Arjuna's concern here as a profound expression of 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮, emphasizing that neglecting ancestral rites like đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œŋ𑌂𑌡 and 𑌉đ‘ŒĻ𑌕 offerings disrupts the sacred continuity of family and society. This disruption causes the forefathers to "fall," symbolizing a loss of spiritual support and blessings. 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ complements this view by teaching that while ultimate purification comes from true knowledge, one must still perform duties without attachment or delusion. The verse thus reminds us that 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 encompasses gratitude and responsibility toward those who came before, aligning with the Upanishadic invocation 𑌅𑌸𑌤𑍋 𑌮𑌾 𑌸đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ—đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¯ ("Lead me from the unreal to the real"), which underscores the journey from ignorance and brokenness toward harmony and truth. This understanding bridges the recognition of broken familial bonds in the first paragraph with the practical restoration of relationships discussed next.

In modern life, "piNDa and udaka" can be understood as care and continuity: respecting elders, remembering family history, keeping promises, and taking responsibility for the next generation. When you break relationships through ego and greed, you do not only hurt one person; you damage a whole chain of support. Practice repairing continuity: apologize when wrong, care for parents, mentor younger people, and build traditions that strengthen ethics.

đ‘ŒĻ𑍋𑌷𑍈𑌰𑍇𑌤𑍈𑌃 𑌕𑍁𑌲𑌘𑍍𑌨𑌾𑌨𑌾𑌂 đ‘Œĩđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒŖđ‘Œ¸đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œ•đ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘Œ•đ‘ˆđ‘Œƒ āĨ¤
𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌸𑌾đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ 𑌜𑌾𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮𑌾𑌃 𑌕𑍁𑌲𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮𑌾đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚 đ‘Œļ𑌾đ‘Œļ𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌤𑌾𑌃 āĨĨ43āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
đ‘ŒĻ𑍋𑌷𑍈𑌃 - by faults
𑌏𑌤𑍈𑌃 - these
𑌕𑍁𑌲𑌘𑍍𑌨𑌆𑌨𑌾𑌮𑍍 - of the destroyers of the family
đ‘Œĩđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒŖ-𑌸𑌂𑌕𑌰-𑌕𑌾𑌰𑌕𑍈𑌃 - causing social confusion/disorder
𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌸𑌾đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ - are destroyed; are uprooted
𑌜𑌾𑌤đ‘Œŋ-𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮𑌾𑌃 - community duties; customary responsibilities
𑌕𑍁𑌲-𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮𑌾𑌃 - family duties/traditions
𑌚 - and
đ‘Œļ𑌾đ‘Œļ𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌤𑌾𑌃 - long-standing; enduring

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
By these faults of family-destroyers who create social confusion, the long-standing duties of community and family are uprooted.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Arjuna's argument is now fully societal: violence breaks families, broken families break values, and broken values break society. He uses the words 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌸𑌾đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ - "uprooted" - because 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 is like a tree: it grows slowly and can be destroyed quickly. 𑌜𑌾𑌤đ‘Œŋ-𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 and 𑌕𑍁𑌲-𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 point to the responsibilities that keep people grounded - education, work ethic, mutual support, and moral training. Arjuna is afraid that the war will uproot these, leaving only chaos.

The concern expressed in this verse about the destruction of 𑌜𑌾𑌤đ‘Œŋ-𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 and 𑌕𑍁𑌲-𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 reflects a deep awareness of the social fabric's fragility. đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets Arjuna's fear as arising from his profound compassion for society, recognizing that the breakdown of these duties leads to widespread disorder, even though Krishna will ultimately guide him to act rightly. Meanwhile, 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ emphasizes that while Arjuna's grief is rooted in delusion, the Gita acknowledges the importance of 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮's social dimensions and teaches the difficult path of performing one's duty firmly yet without attachment. This tension between social responsibility and inner detachment is echoed in the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 injunction: 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠𑌤 𑌜𑌾𑌗𑍍𑌰𑌤 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œĩ𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧𑌤, meaning 'Arise, awake, and learn by approaching the excellent ones.' This call to active engagement and learning underscores that restoring 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 requires both awareness and decisive action, setting the stage for the practical advice on rebuilding trust and integrity in the following paragraph.

In modern life, you can see "uprooted 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮" when trust collapses - when cheating becomes normal, when families fragment without support, and when people stop caring for elders or children. The remedy is not nostalgia; it is responsibility. Rebuild small dharmas: keep your word, do honest work, help your family, and contribute to your community. Big social healing begins with small personal integrity.

đ‘Œ‰đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¸đ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œ¨đ‘Œ•đ‘đ‘Œ˛đ‘Œ§đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘ŒŖđ‘Œžđ‘Œ‚ đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŖđ‘Œžđ‘Œ‚ 𑌜𑌨𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĻ𑌨 āĨ¤
𑌨𑌰𑌕𑍇đ‘ŒŊ𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œ‚ đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌸𑌃 𑌭đ‘Œĩđ‘Œ¤đ‘€đ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œļ𑍁đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍁𑌮 āĨĨ44āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌸𑌨𑍍𑌨 - destroyed; fallen
𑌕𑍁𑌲-đ‘Œ§đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘ŒŖđ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘ - of those whose family duties/traditions are lost
đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŖđ‘Œžđ‘Œ‚ - of people
𑌜𑌨𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĻ𑌨 - O Janardana (Krishna)
𑌨𑌰𑌕𑍇 - in hell; in downfall
𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œ‚ - certainly; inevitably
đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌸𑌃 - dwelling; abode
𑌭đ‘Œĩ𑌤đ‘Œŋ - happens; is
𑌇𑌤đ‘Œŋ - thus
𑌅𑌨𑍁đ‘Œļ𑍁đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍁𑌮 - we have heard (from tradition/elders)

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
O Janardana, we have heard that people whose family dharmas are destroyed dwell in downfall (naraka) inevitably.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Arjuna's fear reaches a peak: he invokes what he has "heard" (𑌅𑌨𑍁đ‘Œļ𑍁đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍁𑌮) from tradition. When we are overwhelmed, the mind often clings to inherited warnings because it cannot find clarity within itself. The word 𑌨𑌰𑌕 can be read as a literal post-death hell in Arjuna's worldview, and it can also be read as a lived hell: a life full of guilt, regret, and social breakdown. Either way, his point is: destruction of 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮 produces suffering, not peace.

The phrase 𑌅𑌨𑍁đ‘Œļ𑍁đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍁𑌮-"we have heard"-reveals Arjuna's reliance on inherited teachings rather than direct experiential knowledge. đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets this as Arjuna's genuine concern for 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮đ‘Œŋ𑌚𑍍 order, fearing the consequences of its destruction as a real and dreadful 𑌨𑌰𑌕. In contrast, 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ guides us beyond fear, emphasizing that true wisdom arises from discerning the eternal Self beyond transient suffering. This shift aligns with the Upanishadic invocation đ‘ŒŽđ‘ƒđ‘Œ¤đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œž 𑌅𑌮𑍃𑌤𑌂 đ‘Œ—đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¯-"lead me from death to immortality"-which calls for transcending the inner hell of confusion through knowledge and detachment. Thus, Arjuna's fear, rooted in tradition, becomes an invitation to awaken to higher truth, preparing us to act with integrity rather than panic.

In modern life, do not ignore consequences, but do not let fear be your only compass. If you are frozen by "what will happen if...", return to first principles: truth, non-harm, responsibility, and courage. If you make decisions from panic, you often create the very "naraka" you fear. If you make decisions from integrity, even difficult outcomes become bearable.

𑌅𑌹𑍋 đ‘ŒŦ𑌤 𑌮𑌹𑌤𑍍đ‘ŒĒ𑌾đ‘ŒĒ𑌂 𑌕𑌰𑍍𑌤𑍁𑌂 đ‘Œĩđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œĩ𑌸đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾 đ‘Œĩđ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒŽđ‘ āĨ¤
đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ–đ‘Œ˛đ‘‹đ‘Œ­đ‘‡đ‘Œ¨ 𑌹𑌂𑌤𑍁𑌂 𑌸𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌜𑌨𑌮𑍁đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œžđ‘Œƒ āĨĨ45āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌅𑌹𑍋 đ‘ŒŦ𑌤 - alas! indeed!
𑌮𑌹𑌤𑍍 - great
đ‘ŒĒ𑌾đ‘ŒĒ𑌮𑍍 - sin; grievous wrong
𑌕𑌰𑍍𑌤𑍁𑌂 - to do; to commit
đ‘Œĩđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œĩ𑌸đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑌾𑌃 - resolved; determined
đ‘Œĩđ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒŽđ‘ - we
đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘ - because
đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œ¯ - kingdom
𑌸𑍁𑌖 - pleasure; comfort
𑌲𑍋𑌭𑍇𑌨 - due to greed
𑌹𑌂𑌤𑍁𑌂 - to kill
𑌸𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌜𑌨𑌂 - one's own people
𑌉đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘Œžđ‘Œƒ - ready; prepared

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
Alas, we are resolved to commit a great wrong - driven by greed for kingdom and pleasures, we are ready to kill our own people.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Arjuna turns the weapon inward: he condemns himself. The phrase 𑌅𑌹𑍋 đ‘ŒŦ𑌤 is a cry of shock, and 𑌮𑌹𑌤𑍍đ‘ŒĒ𑌾đ‘ŒĒ is moral injury - the feeling that you are about to betray your own values. He also names the suspected root: đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ–đ‘Œ˛đ‘‹đ‘Œ­ - greed for power and comfort. Whether or not that is a fair diagnosis of his side, it shows what Arjuna is truly afraid of becoming: a person who sacrifices conscience for gain.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets Arjuna's self-reproach as arising from his deep righteousness and compassion, which intensify his awareness of the 𑌮𑌹𑌤𑍍đ‘ŒĒ𑌾đ‘ŒĒ he is about to commit. This internal conflict reflects a soul torn between love for kin and the demands of 𑌧𑌰𑍍𑌮. 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ emphasizes that Arjuna's sorrow stems from 𑌮𑍋𑌹 (delusion) and 𑌕𑍍𑌲𑍇𑌭 (weakness), urging him to overcome this paralysis by clarifying his duty and acting without selfish desire. The path forward is not to abandon ethics but to purify intention, becoming an instrument of righteousness rather than a victim of đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¸đ‘đ‘Œ–đ‘Œ˛đ‘‹đ‘Œ­. This aligns with the wisdom of the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 which teaches 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠𑌤 𑌜𑌾𑌗𑍍𑌰𑌤 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œĩ𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧𑌤-"Arise, awake, and learn by approaching the excellent ones"-calling for vigilance and awakening to higher knowledge. Thus, Arjuna's lament is both a moment of crisis and an invitation to spiritual awakening, preparing us to recognize and resist the subtle roots of greed and moral confusion that follow in the next discussion.

In modern life, this verse is a warning against "small greed" that becomes big harm. You may not be fighting a war, but you can still hurt people for comfort: lying to protect your image, betraying friends for status, or exploiting others for gain. Practice catching greed early. Ask, "If I choose this, can I respect myself afterward?" Let your actions pass that test, and the mind becomes steadier.

đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ 𑌮𑌾𑌮đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌤𑍀𑌕𑌾𑌰𑌮𑍍 𑌅đ‘Œļ𑌸𑍍𑌤𑍍𑌰𑌂 đ‘Œļ𑌸𑍍𑌤𑍍𑌰đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œžđ‘ŒŖđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œƒ āĨ¤
𑌧𑌾𑌰𑍍𑌤𑌰𑌾𑌷𑍍𑌟𑍍𑌰𑌾 đ‘Œ°đ‘ŒŖđ‘‡ đ‘Œšđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œƒ 𑌤𑌨𑍍𑌮𑍇 𑌕𑍍𑌷𑍇𑌮𑌤𑌰𑌂 𑌭đ‘Œĩ𑍇𑌤𑍍 āĨĨ46āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
đ‘Œ¯đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ - if
𑌮𑌾𑌮𑍍 - me
𑌅đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌤𑍀𑌕𑌾𑌰𑌮𑍍 - without resistance; unopposing
𑌅đ‘Œļ𑌸𑍍𑌤𑍍𑌰𑌂 - unarmed
đ‘Œļ𑌸𑍍𑌤𑍍𑌰-đ‘ŒĒđ‘Œžđ‘ŒŖđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œƒ - with weapons in hand
𑌧𑌾𑌰𑍍𑌤𑌰𑌾𑌷𑍍𑌟𑍍𑌰𑌾𑌃 - the sons of Dhritarashtra
đ‘Œ°đ‘ŒŖđ‘‡ - in battle
đ‘Œšđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘đ‘Œƒ - should kill
𑌤𑌤𑍍 - that
𑌮𑍇 - for me
𑌕𑍍𑌷𑍇𑌮𑌤𑌰𑌂 - better; more beneficial
𑌭đ‘Œĩ𑍇𑌤𑍍 - would be

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
If the sons of Dhritarashtra, weapons in hand, were to kill me in battle while I stand unarmed and unresisting, that would be better for me.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
This verse is the bottom of the emotional spiral. Arjuna says it would be "better" (𑌕𑍍𑌷𑍇𑌮𑌤𑌰) to be killed than to act. This is no longer thoughtful compassion; it is despair. The mind has moved from moral concern to self-negation. The Gita does not glorify this state; it exposes it so that Krishna can heal it. Many people today recognize this feeling: when stress and guilt pile up, the mind imagines that disappearance would be relief.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ vividly portrays Arjuna's grief as so profound that he casts aside his weapons and sits as if to fast unto death, embodying the despair expressed in this verse. đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀𑌧𑌰 𑌸𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌮đ‘Œŋ and 𑌮𑌧𑍁𑌸𑍂đ‘ŒĻ𑌨 𑌸𑌰𑌸𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌤𑍀 emphasize that this state of surrender is not true wisdom but a manifestation of 𑌕𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒŖđ‘đ‘Œ¯ (helplessness) and 𑌮𑍋𑌹 (delusion), which must be overcome by knowledge and resolve. This aligns with the teaching of 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ in the next chapter, where Krishna challenges Arjuna to rise above his despondency. The Upanishadic injunction 𑌉𑌤𑍍𑌤đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑍍𑌠𑌤 𑌜𑌾𑌗𑍍𑌰𑌤 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰𑌾đ‘ŒĒđ‘đ‘Œ¯ đ‘Œĩ𑌰𑌾𑌨𑍍𑌨đ‘Œŋđ‘ŒŦ𑍋𑌧𑌤 (KaThOpaniShad 1.3.14), meaning "Arise, awake, and learn by approaching the excellent ones," underscores the call to awaken from ignorance and despair. Thus, this verse marks the nadir of Arjuna's emotional collapse and sets the stage for Krishna's guidance back to strength and purposeful action, bridging naturally to practical steps for recovery and resilience.

In modern life, take this verse seriously as a mental-health signal. If you feel like giving up, do not treat it as "spiritual." Reach out: talk to a trusted person, a counselor, or someone wise, and reduce the load you are carrying alone. Then take one small stabilizing step - sleep, food, breath, and honest conversation. The Gita's path is not escape; it is recovery of strength to do the right thing.

đ‘Œ¸đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œœđ‘Œ¯ 𑌉đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌚
𑌏đ‘Œĩ𑌮𑍁𑌕𑍍𑌤𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌾đ‘ŒŊ𑌰𑍍𑌜𑍁𑌨𑌃 đ‘Œ¸đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ–đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡ 𑌰đ‘ŒĨ𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨ 𑌉đ‘ŒĒ𑌾đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘Œļ𑌤𑍍 āĨ¤
đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘Œ¸đ‘ƒđ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œ¯ 𑌸đ‘Œļ𑌰𑌂 𑌚𑌾đ‘ŒĒ𑌂 đ‘Œļ𑍋𑌕𑌸𑌂đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌗𑍍𑌨𑌮𑌾𑌨𑌸𑌃 āĨĨ4𑍭āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
đ‘Œ¸đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œœđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œƒ - Sanjaya
𑌉đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌚 - said
𑌏đ‘Œĩ𑌮𑍍 - thus
𑌉𑌕𑍍𑌤𑍍đ‘Œĩ𑌾 - having spoken
𑌅𑌰𑍍𑌜𑍁𑌨𑌃 - Arjuna
đ‘Œ¸đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ–đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘‡ - in battle; in the battlefield
𑌰đ‘ŒĨ-𑌉đ‘ŒĒ𑌸𑍍đ‘ŒĨ𑍇 - on the seat of the chariot
𑌉đ‘ŒĒ𑌾đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘Œļ𑌤𑍍 - sat down
đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘Œ¸đ‘ƒđ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œ¯ - casting aside
𑌸đ‘Œļ𑌰𑌂 - with arrows
𑌚𑌾đ‘ŒĒ𑌂 - bow
đ‘Œļ𑍋𑌕𑌸𑌂đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌗𑍍𑌨 - distressed by grief
𑌮𑌾𑌨𑌸𑌃 - mind

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
Sanjaya said: Having spoken thus on the battlefield, Arjuna sat down on the seat of the chariot, casting aside his bow and arrows, his mind overwhelmed with grief.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
Chapter 1 ends with a picture, not a conclusion: a great warrior sitting down, weapons dropped, mind shaken. This is the "pause" before the teaching begins. The Gita is realistic: before wisdom can be received, the arrogance of "I can handle everything" has to break. Arjuna's collapse is painful, but it is also honest - the moment where the inner problem becomes undeniable.

đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ portrays Arjuna's act of casting aside his bow and sitting down as a profound expression of grief and inner turmoil, reflecting a soul overwhelmed by sorrow and confusion. This moment is not mere despair but a necessary surrender that exposes the depth of his crisis, making the subsequent teaching possible. 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets this grief as arising from mistaken identification with the transient body and attachments, emphasizing that recognizing this confusion is the first step toward liberation. The Upanishadic injunction 𑌨 đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ 𑌮𑍍𑌰đ‘Œŋđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œ¤đ‘‡ đ‘Œĩ𑌾 đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘ŒĒđ‘Œļ𑍍𑌚đ‘Œŋ𑌤𑍍 from the 𑌕𑌠𑍋đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍 reminds us that the true Self is beyond birth and death, urging Arjuna-and us-to awaken to this eternal reality. This verse thus marks the crucial turning point where honest acknowledgment of inner conflict opens the door to higher knowledge, preparing the ground for the practical guidance that follows.

In modern life, this verse gives permission to pause. When you are overwhelmed, do not keep "fighting" blindly. Sit down - not to quit, but to regain clarity. Drop the weapons of reactive speech, harsh judgments, and self-punishment. Then seek guidance: a teacher, a friend, scripture, prayer, or quiet reflection. The next chapter begins when you are willing to learn.

āĨĨ 𑌓𑌂 𑌤𑌤𑍍𑌸đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ𑌤đ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀𑌮đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌭𑌗đ‘Œĩđ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌗𑍀𑌤𑌾𑌸𑍁 𑌉đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑌤𑍍𑌸𑍁 đ‘ŒŦ𑍍𑌰𑌹𑍍𑌮đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œ‚
đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ—đ‘Œļ𑌾𑌸𑍍𑌤𑍍𑌰𑍇 đ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘€đ‘Œ•đ‘ƒđ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘ŒŖđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘đ‘Œ¨đ‘Œ¸đ‘Œ‚đ‘Œĩ𑌾đ‘ŒĻ𑍇 𑌅𑌰𑍍𑌜𑍁𑌨đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌷𑌾đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ—đ‘‹ 𑌨𑌾𑌮 đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰đ‘ŒĨ𑌮𑍋đ‘ŒŊđ‘Œ§đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œƒ āĨĨ

Meaning (đ‘ŒĒđ‘ŒĻ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
𑌓𑌂 𑌤𑌤𑍍𑌸𑌤𑍍 - Om; "that is the Truth" (a traditional closing)
đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀𑌮đ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌭𑌗đ‘Œĩđ‘ŒĻ𑍍𑌗𑍀𑌤𑌾 - the revered Bhagavad Gita
𑌉đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷𑌤𑍍𑌸𑍁 - in the Upanishads (as a wisdom text)
đ‘ŒŦ𑍍𑌰𑌹𑍍𑌮-đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘ - in the knowledge of Brahman
đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ—đ‘Œļ𑌾𑌸𑍍𑌤𑍍𑌰𑍇 - in the scripture of đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ—
đ‘Œļđ‘đ‘Œ°đ‘€đ‘Œ•đ‘ƒđ‘Œˇđ‘đ‘ŒŖ-𑌅𑌰𑍍𑌜𑍁𑌨-𑌸𑌂đ‘Œĩ𑌾đ‘ŒĻ𑍇 - in the dialogue between Sri Krishna and Arjuna
𑌅𑌰𑍍𑌜𑍁𑌨-đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋ𑌷𑌾đ‘ŒĻ-đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ—đ‘Œƒ - "Arjuna's Despondency đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ—"
𑌨𑌾𑌮 - named
đ‘ŒĒ𑍍𑌰đ‘ŒĨ𑌮𑌃 đ‘Œ…đ‘Œ§đ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œžđ‘Œ¯đ‘Œƒ - first chapter

Translation (𑌭𑌾đ‘Œĩ𑌾𑌰𑍍đ‘ŒĨ):
Om Tat Sat. Thus ends the first chapter, called "Arjuna Vishada Yoga", in the revered Bhagavad Gita - an Upanishad teaching Brahma-vidya and Yoga, in the dialogue between Sri Krishna and Arjuna.

Commentary (𑌅𑌨𑍁𑌸𑌂𑌧𑌾𑌨):
The colophon is a small sentence with a big claim. It calls the Gita an 𑌉đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍: not merely a poem or a war-story, but a wisdom text meant to take you near (𑌉đ‘ŒĒ) the truth (𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍) through inquiry. It also names the subject as đ‘ŒŦ𑍍𑌰𑌹𑍍𑌮-đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œž and đ‘Œ¯đ‘‹đ‘Œ—đ‘Œļ𑌾𑌸𑍍𑌤𑍍𑌰: knowledge of the ultimate reality, and the disciplined method to live it. And it reminds you that this wisdom is delivered as a relationship - a 𑌸𑌂đ‘Œĩ𑌾đ‘ŒĻ between teacher and student, friend and friend, Lord and devotee.

𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ and đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ both uphold the Bhagavad Gita as an authentic 𑌉đ‘ŒĒ𑌨đ‘Œŋ𑌷đ‘ŒĻ𑍍, affirming its role as a direct path to đ‘ŒŦ𑍍𑌰𑌹𑍍𑌮-đ‘Œĩđ‘Œŋđ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ¯đ‘Œž. While 𑌆đ‘ŒĻđ‘Œŋ đ‘Œļđ‘Œ‚đ‘Œ•đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ interprets Arjuna's inner turmoil as the awakening to non-dual Self-knowledge, đ‘Œļ𑍍𑌰𑍀 đ‘Œ°đ‘Œžđ‘ŒŽđ‘Œžđ‘Œ¨đ‘đ‘Œœđ‘Œžđ‘Œšđ‘Œžđ‘Œ°đ‘đ‘Œ¯ emphasizes the loving surrender to the personal Lord as the means to realize ultimate truth. This shared reverence for the Gita's transformative power is echoed in the Upanishadic prayer 𑌅𑌸𑌤𑍋 𑌮𑌾 𑌸đ‘ŒĻđ‘đ‘Œ—đ‘ŒŽđ‘Œ¯-"Lead me from the unreal to the real"-highlighting the text's purpose to guide seekers beyond illusion into lasting reality. Thus, the Gita is not merely a philosophical treatise but a living dialogue inviting us to shift our understanding and actions, preparing us to embrace the truth tenderly yet firmly, as the next paragraph will explore through the practice of 𑌤𑌤𑍍𑌸𑌤𑍍.

End the chapter as the colophon suggests: with 𑌤𑌤𑍍𑌸𑌤𑍍 - a remembrance that truth is bigger than our emotions, and yet tender enough to meet us inside them. If Chapter 1 leaves you unsettled, that is not failure; it is the proper beginning. Chapter 2 starts Krishna's response. Read it with the same honesty Arjuna shows here, and let the teaching move from the page into your daily choices.




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