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Chapter 4 · Verse 35
🪈 Krishna speaks
Illustration for Chapter 4, Verse 35

यज्ज्ञात्वा न पुनर्मोहमेवं यास्यसि पाण्डव। येन भूतान्यशेषेण द्रक्ष्यस्यात्मन्यथो मयि॥

yajjñātvā na punarmohamevaṁ yāsyasi pāṇḍava | yena bhūtānyaśeṣeṇa drakṣyasyātmanyatho mayi ||

Word by Word 15 words
यत्
yad which, that

which (knowledge)

ज्ञात्वा
jñā to know

having known, having understood

न
na not

not

पुनः
punar again

again

मोहम्
muh to be confused, to be deluded

confusion, delusion

एवम्
evam thus, in this way

in this way, like this

यास्यसि
yā to go, to fall into

you will go, you will fall into

पाण्डव
pāṇḍu Pāṇḍu, Arjuna's father

O son of Pāṇḍu — a name for Arjuna

येन
yad which, by which

by which

भूतानि
bhū to be, to become

beings, all living things

अशेषेण
a not, un- śiṣ to leave over, to remain

without exception, all of them, every one

द्रक्ष्यसि
dṛś to see

you will see

आत्मनि
ātman self, soul, innermost being

in your own self

अथो
atho and also, and then

and also, and then

मयि
mad me, in me

in me

gives a beautiful promise. Once you truly understand this knowledge, he says, you will never tumble back into this kind of confusion again. And something wonderful will happen: you will start to see every living being — every single one, without leaving anyone out — first inside your own self, and then inside me. You will see that, deep down, we are all connected.

कथा

The Promise on the Far Shore

An original story

's voice softened, the way a storyteller's does when reaching the part that matters most.

"Son of Pāṇḍu," he said, "do you remember being small, lost in a crowd at a great festival? The lights too bright, the sounds too loud, every face a stranger — and that cold, swallowing feeling that you did not belong to anyone, and no one belonged to you?"

's throat tightened. He did remember.

"That feeling is *moha* — the confusion you are drowning in now, here on this chariot. You look across the field and you see only strangers and enemies, people cut off from you, and it makes you ache and freeze. But I promise you this: once you truly understand what I am teaching, you will never fall into that lostness again. Not like this. Never again like this."

The mist over the field had thinned. Sunlight was beginning to reach the grass.

"Let me tell you how it will feel," went on. "Imagine that same lost child suddenly finding a high place — a hilltop above the festival. From up there the crowd is no longer a sea of strangers. The child looks down and sees that every person below is laughing, hoping, hurting, just as the child does. The grandmother. The crying baby. The juggler. The tired guard at the gate. All of them carry the same little flame inside. And the child thinks, in wonder, *they are all like me. I am in them, and they are in me.*"

's eyes glistened.

"That is what knowledge will give you," said. "You will look at every living being — every one, leaving no one out, not even those who stand against you today — and you will see them first inside your own self, and then inside me. No one a stranger. No one truly separate. All of us held in the same vast life, like countless waves that belong to one ocean."

He laid a steady hand on 's shoulder.

"The confusion will lift, my friend. The far shore is real, and you are closer to it than you know."

For the first time since dawn, felt something that was not fear. It was small and quiet, but it was there. It felt like the beginning of seeing.

चिन्तनम्

Have you ever felt alone in a crowd, sure that no one understood you? What might change if you remembered that everyone there has the same hopes and worries you do?