I first read the Bhagavad Gita in my late 20s, during a time when life felt like a labyrinth with no exit. I was lost, trapped between the ideals I thought I should live by and the quiet voice inside me that I couldn’t quite understand. My soul was restless, searching, yet no religion or philosophy had given me the answers I desperately needed. I had read sacred texts from various traditions, explored spiritual practices, and sought guidance from mentors and books but nothing clicked. Nothing resonated.
One evening, as I wandered through a used bookstore, I found a worn copy of the Bhagavad Gita. The cover was simple, yet there was something about it that made me pick it up. Perhaps it was curiosity, or maybe destiny. I tucked it under my arm and brought it home, unaware that this book would change the course of my life.
When I began reading, it felt different from anything I’d encountered before. The opening chapter unfolded with Arjuna, a warrior, standing on a battlefield, paralyzed by doubt and fear. He was unable to fight, overwhelmed by the moral complexities of his duty. His despair mirrored my own inner struggle uncertain, torn between what I thought I should do and what I truly longed to do.
I will never forget the moment when Krishna addressed Arjuna’s fear and doubt with a response that felt as if it were spoken directly to me: Who are you to be afraid, since I have breathed life into you?
This question pierced through my heart. In that instant, I realized the depth of Krishna’s message not just to Arjuna, but to anyone who has ever felt paralyzed by fear, doubt, or the overwhelming burden of existence. Krishna’s words were not a rebuke but a call to awaken. If the very essence of life itself flows through us, if the divine breath animates us, then who are we to shrink from the challenges of life?
I saw myself in Arjuna standing on the battlefield of my own life, afraid to make a choice, afraid of failure, afraid of my own strength. Arjuna’s doubt had felt so human, so relatable, but Krishna’s response reminded me of something deeper: fear is the illusion, not the truth.
Krishna’s words called me to rise beyond my limited perspective. They reminded me that my life like Arjuna is not an accident. It has purpose, and I have been given the strength to fulfill it. The breath of life itself is proof of that.
This moment in the Bhagavad Gita felt like a mirror held up to my soul. It showed me the part of myself that was hiding, cowering, doubting my own worth and ability. But it also revealed the truth that lay beyond that fear: That the same divine power that breathed life into me would sustain me, no matter the challenges I faced.
I remember closing the book that evening, sitting silently on the floor. I wasn’t the same person I had been when I opened it. A quiet resolve had taken root within me. It was as if Krishna’s words had unlocked a door I had been too afraid to open.
From that point on, the Bhagavad Gita became more than just a book. It was a reminder of my divine inheritance, a guide that taught me how to face my fears and doubts with courage, and how to live a life rooted in faith and purpose. It was not about being fearless but about remembering that the strength to face anything was already within me.
That moment, when Krishna asked Arjuna, Who are you to be afraid? continues to echo in my mind whenever I face uncertainty. It has become my mantra, my touchstone. It reminds me that fear, no matter how convincing, is never greater than the life and love that flows within us.
Hari Om Tat Sat
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