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Chapter 6 · Verse 6
🪈 Krishna speaks
Illustration for Chapter 6, Verse 6

बन्धुरात्मात्मनस्तस्य येनात्मैवात्मना जितः। अनात्मनस्तु शत्रुत्वे वर्तेतात्मैव शत्रुवत्॥

bandhurātmātmanastasya yenātmaivātmanā jitaḥ | anātmanastu śatrutve vartetātmaiva śatruvat ||

Word by Word 16 words
बन्धुः
bandh to bind, to befriend

friend

आत्मा
ātman self

the self

आत्मनः
ātman self

of oneself

तस्य
tad that, his

for that person

येन
yad by whom, by which

by whom

आत्मा
ātman self

the self

एव
eva indeed, very

indeed

आत्मना
ātman self

by oneself

जितः
ji to conquer, to win

conquered, mastered

अनात्मनः
an not ātman self

of one who has not mastered himself

तु
tu but

but, however

शत्रुत्वे
śatru enemy

in enmity, in the state of an enemy

वर्तेत
vṛt to turn, to behave, to remain

would act, would behave

आत्मा
ātman self

the self

एव
eva indeed, very

indeed, the very self

शत्रुवत्
śatru enemy vat like, as

like an enemy

explains the riddle from the verse before. For the person who has mastered themselves — who rules their own mind instead of being ruled by it — the self becomes a loyal friend. But for the person who has not, that same self turns against them and acts just like an enemy. Whether your self is friend or foe depends entirely on whether you have learned to govern it.

कथा

Two Brothers on the Road

From the puranas

Two brothers set out one morning to walk to the next village along a dusty road lined with tamarind trees. They had the same parents, the same home, the same lessons growing up — yet inside they were as different as fire and water.

The elder brother, Aruna, had spent years learning to watch his own anger. Whenever it rose in him, hot and fast, he had practised pausing, breathing, letting it cool before he spoke. It had not been easy. But now his temper obeyed him the way a trained horse obeys the rein.

The younger brother, Vyala, had never bothered. When anger flared, he let it run wherever it liked. His temper rode him, not the other way around.

Halfway along the road, a careless farmer leading an ox swung wide and the ox's muddy flank knocked hard against both brothers, splattering their clean clothes and nearly toppling them into the ditch. The same insult, the same shove, struck them both in the same instant.

Vyala exploded. He shouted, he cursed, he grabbed a stone. His face went red, his heart hammered, his whole morning was ruined in a breath. By the time the frightened farmer hurried his ox away, Vyala was shaking, his thoughts a storm of grievance. His own mind had turned on him like an enemy, robbing him of his peace far more thoroughly than the mud ever could.

Aruna felt the same first spark of anger — he was not made of stone. But he knew the spark, and he had a friend inside who knew what to do with it. He drew one slow breath. He let the heat pass through him and out. "It is only mud," he said quietly, "and the man is already sorry." He brushed off his clothes, helped his trembling brother to his feet, and walked on with his morning still whole and his heart still calm.

That evening, washing the dried mud from his shirt, Vyala asked, "How is it the same shove left you peaceful and me wretched?"

Aruna smiled. "The shove was the same. The difference was inside us. I have spent years making my own mind my friend. You have left yours a wild thing — and a wild mind, brother, is the cruellest enemy a man can carry, because it never leaves his side."

चिन्तनम्

Have you ever noticed two people react completely differently to the same thing? What do you think makes one person's mind a friend and another's an enemy?