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Chapter 8 · Verse 23
🪈 Krishna speaks
Illustration for Chapter 8, Verse 23

यत्र काले त्वनावृत्तिमावृत्तिं चैव योगिनः। प्रयाता यान्ति तं कालं वक्ष्यामि भरतर्षभ॥

yatra kāle tvanāvṛttimāvṛttiṁ caiva yoginaḥ | prayātā yānti taṁ kālaṁ vakṣyāmi bharatarṣabha ||

Word by Word 14 words
यत्र
yatra where, in which

at which, in which

काले
kāla time

at the time

तु
tu but, now

but, now

अनावृत्तिम्
an not ā back vṛt to turn, to return

no-return, not coming back

आवृत्तिम्
ā back vṛt to turn, to return

return, coming back

च
ca and

and

एव
eva indeed, surely

indeed, surely

योगिनः
yuj to yoke, to join in yoga

the yogis, those joined in yoga

प्रयाताः
pra forth yā to go

having departed, having passed on

यान्ति
yā to go

they go, they reach

तम्
tad that

that

कालम्
kāla time

time

वक्ष्यामि
vac to speak, to tell

I shall tell, I will explain

भरतर्षभ
bharata Bharata, the ancestral line ṛṣabha bull, best of

O best of the Bharatas — a name for Arjuna

Now, , I will tell you about the times of departure. When yogis leave their bodies at one kind of time, they go and do not return. When they leave at another, they go and come back again. Listen, best of the Bharatas, and I will explain these two times — the road of no-return and the road that circles home.

कथा

The Teacher and the Two Roads

From the Upanishadic teaching

In the old gurukula on the bank of a slow river, the students had studied for many years. They had learned the chants, the rituals, the names of the gods, the rising and dissolving of the worlds. Now, on a quiet evening with the lamps newly lit, the eldest teacher gathered them close. There was something in his face they had not seen before — the look of a man about to share the last and most carefully kept secret of all.

"You have learned much," the old teacher said, "about how beings come forth and how they dissolve. About the Imperishable beyond all change. About the highest home from which none return." He paused. "But there is one thing more, and it is this: not everyone who leaves the body travels the same road."

The students leaned in. The river murmured beyond the wall.

"There are two roads after death," the teacher went on. "Two ancient paths, as old as the world itself. By one road, the departing yogi goes and never comes back — he reaches the changeless home and stays. By the other road, the departing one goes, rests a while, and then returns — back to birth, back to the turning wheel, to live and learn and try again."

A young student, eyes wide, asked, "Which road will I take, teacher?"

The old man smiled, but he held up a hand. "Not yet. First you must know that the two roads exist. First you must know there is even a choice to understand. A traveller who does not know the fork in the path cannot prepare for it. So before I describe the roads themselves" — and here his voice grew gentle and certain, the way 's must have sounded on the chariot — "I am simply telling you, my children, that the moment of departure matters. There is a time of going that leads to no-return, and a time of going that leads back home to be born again."

He let the words settle over the lamplit room like dusk settling over the river.

"Tomorrow," he said, "I will tell you the two roads, one by one. For tonight, only this: know that they are there. Knowing the map calms the traveller, even before the journey begins."

The students sat in the warm silence, and not one of them was afraid.

चिन्तनम्

The teacher said you must first know that two roads exist before you can understand them. Why do you think just knowing about something ahead of time can make you feel calmer and braver?