Bhagavad Gita Lessons for Kids

Told in English, Telugu.

The night before the district chess tournament, Kiran could not sleep. He climbed the stairs to the terrace of their house in Rajahmundry, where a cool breeze came drifting in from the Godavari, and found Tatayya sitting in his old folding chair, looking up at the stars.

"You also cannot sleep?" Tatayya asked with a smile.

Kiran sat down on the mat beside him and hugged his knees. "What if I lose in the very first round, Tatayya? Everyone in school knows I am going. Amma even made pulihora for good luck. If I lose, I will feel like I have let everybody down."

Tatayya was quiet for a while. Then he said, "You know, a long, long time ago, the greatest archer in the whole world felt just like you do now. Only his worry was much, much bigger. Shall I tell you what happened to him?"

Kiran nodded.

"His name was Arjuna," Tatayya began. "You know the Pandavas and the Kauravas were cousins. They grew up together in Hastinapura. But Duryodhana, the eldest Kaurava, was jealous, and he would not give the Pandavas their rightful share of the kingdom. Not even five small villages. The Pandavas tried for years to make peace. Krishna himself went to the Kaurava court to ask for peace. But Duryodhana refused, and at last a great war could not be stopped."

"The two armies gathered on a wide field called Kurukshetra. Krishna had promised he would not lift a weapon in that war. He would only drive Arjuna's chariot. So the Lord of the whole world sat in front, holding the reins of the white horses, as Arjuna's charioteer and friend."

"Just before the battle began, Arjuna said, Krishna, take my chariot to the middle, between the two armies. I want to see who I must face. So Krishna drove him there. And Arjuna looked."

Tatayya's voice became soft. "On the other side stood Bhishma, his grandsire, who had carried him on his lap when he was a little boy. There stood Dronacharya, his own guru, who had taught him how to hold a bow. There stood his cousins, his uncles, his old friends. Arjuna's hands began to tremble. His great bow, the Gandiva, slipped from his fingers. He sat down in the chariot with tears in his eyes and said, Krishna, I cannot do this. I do not want any kingdom if I must hurt the people I love."

Kiran frowned. "But that sounds kind, Tatayya. Wasn't Arjuna right to feel that way?"

"That is a very good question," said Tatayya, pleased. "And Krishna did not laugh at him. Arjuna's sadness was real, and it came from a loving heart. But his mind was confused. This war was about protecting what was right, after every chance for peace had been thrown away. Arjuna was a warrior whose duty was to protect people. In that moment, his sadness and fear were pulling him away from his duty. So, right there in the middle of the battlefield, Krishna spoke to his friend. Those words became the Bhagavad Gita, the Song of the Lord. Shall I tell you some of what Krishna said?"

"Yes, please."

"First, Krishna told Arjuna that the real person inside each of us, the atma, never dies. Our bodies grow and change and grow old, the way we wear clothes and then put on new ones. But the atma is always there. Krishna said, nainam chindanti shastrani, nainam dahati pavakah. Weapons cannot cut it. Fire cannot burn it. Water cannot wet it, and wind cannot dry it."

Kiran was quiet. He was thinking of Nanamma, who had passed away last winter. He still missed the way she called him kanna.

Tatayya seemed to know. He put his hand on Kiran's head. "That is why, even when someone we love leaves this world, the love does not end. Your Nanamma is not lost, kanna. The part of her that loved you is still there, like a lamp that never goes out."

Kiran leaned against Tatayya's knee, and he felt a little warmer.

"Then Krishna told Arjuna the most famous lesson of all," Tatayya went on. "Karmanye vadhikaraste, ma phaleshu kadachana. Can you say it with me? Karmanye vadhikaraste."

"Karmanye vadhikaraste," Kiran repeated slowly.

"It means, you have the right to do your work, but the result is not in your hands. Think about it. Tomorrow, your work is to play each move with full attention and your best thinking. But whether you win or lose also depends on your opponent, on the day, on many things. When you keep staring at the result, your hands start to shake, just like Arjuna's did. When you put your whole heart into the work itself, your mind becomes clear."

"So I should not care about winning?"

Tatayya laughed. "You can wish to win. That is natural. Krishna also said that doing nothing is not the answer. Running away is not the answer. Do your work fully, and then let the result come as it comes. That is the trick."

"Krishna also told Arjuna, samatvam yoga uchyate. Staying even, steady in the mind, whether there is success or failure, that is true yoga. He said the mind of a wise person is like a lamp in a place where no wind blows. The flame does not flicker. It stays still and bright."

Kiran looked at the little oil lamp Amma had lit near the tulasi plant downstairs. Its flame was swaying in the breeze. "My mind is flickering a lot right now," he admitted.

"Mine too, many times," said Tatayya. "Even at my age. That is why we keep practising."

"What happened to Arjuna after that?"

"Arjuna asked many questions, and Krishna answered each one patiently, like a true friend. At one point, Arjuna wished to see who Krishna really was. So Krishna showed him his universal form. Arjuna saw the whole universe inside Krishna, the sun and moon and stars and all living beings. He was filled with wonder, and also a little afraid, so he folded his hands and begged Krishna to become his gentle, familiar friend again. And Krishna did."

"And at the very end, after teaching him everything, do you know what Krishna said? He did not order Arjuna. He said, I have told you all of this. Now think it over fully, and then do as you choose."

"He let Arjuna decide?" Kiran asked, surprised.

"Yes. A good teacher does not push. A good teacher helps you see clearly. And Arjuna said, my confusion is gone, Krishna. I remember who I am. Then he stood up and picked up his Gandiva again, with steady hands."

The breeze had grown cooler. Somewhere far away, a temple bell rang. Kiran yawned a big yawn.

"Go and sleep now," said Tatayya. "Tomorrow, play like Arjuna stood up. Not shaking, not thinking about who is watching. Just you, the board, and your best moves."

The next day, Kiran sat across from his first opponent, a tall boy from Kakinada. His heart was thumping. Then he remembered. Karmanye vadhikaraste. He took a slow breath and looked only at the board.

He won the first game. He won the second. In the third, he lost to a very clever girl from Eluru, and for a moment his eyes stung. But then he thought of the lamp in the windless place, and he shook her hand and smiled.

That evening, he ran up to the terrace. "Tatayya! I came fourth! And guess what? Even when I lost, I didn't feel like I let anybody down. I played every single move with my full heart."

Tatayya's eyes shone. "Then you won the most important game of all, kanna."

And as the stars came out over the Godavari, the two of them sat together, quietly saying the old words once more. Karmanye vadhikaraste. Can you say it with them too?