"There is a riddle," Krishna said, and a small smile touched the corner of his mouth, "that has tangled the minds of the cleverest people who ever lived. Poets. Sages. Men who could recite a thousand verses without a single mistake. Even they scratched their heads at this one."

Arjuna leaned forward despite himself. He had always liked a riddle.

"Here it is," said Krishna. "What is *doing*? And what is *not-doing*? What is action, and what is the empty stillness where no action lives?"

Arjuna frowned. "That seems easy. Lifting my bow is doing. Sitting still is not-doing. Where is the riddle in that?"

Krishna shook his head gently.

"Is it so simple? Picture a man sitting under a tree, his body perfectly still, not lifting a finger. But inside his mind a storm is raging — he is plotting, scheming, burning with a hundred wants. His body does nothing, yet is he truly resting? Or is he working harder than any soldier on this field?"

Arjuna opened his mouth, then closed it.

"And picture another," Krishna went on. "A woman whose hands never stop — drawing water, grinding grain, carrying loads from dawn to dusk. Her body moves all day long. Yet her heart is quiet as a sleeping lake; she wants nothing for herself, grabs at nothing. Her hands are busy, but somewhere deep inside, she is utterly at rest."

The wind shifted. The mist began, very slowly, to lift.

"So you see," Krishna said, "the wise ones were not foolish to be puzzled. Doing and not-doing are not what they seem on the surface. The true answer hides deeper, beneath the moving hands and the still ones."

He laid a hand briefly on Arjuna's shoulder.

"But do not worry. I will untangle this knot for you. I will tell you plainly what action is and what inaction is. And when you finally understand it — really understand it, all the way down — you will be freed from everything that harms you. The riddle that stumped the sages will set you loose like a bird from a cage."