Chapter 11 · Shloka 29— The Yoga of the Vision of the Universal Form
इस श्लोक का हिंदी अनुवाद पढ़ें →यथा प्रदीप्तं ज्वलनं पतङ्गा विशन्ति नाशाय समृद्धवेगाः। तथैव नाशाय विशन्ति लोका स्तवापि वक्त्राणि समृद्धवेगाः॥
Transliteration
yathā pradīptaṁ jvalanaṁ pataṅgā viśhanti nāśhāya samṛiddha-vegāḥ tathaiva nāśhāya viśhanti lokās tavāpi vaktrāṇi samṛiddha-vegāḥ
Word-by-word meaning
- yathā
- — as
- pradīptam
- — blazing
- jvalanam
- — fire
- pataṅgāḥ
- — moths
- viśhanti
- — enter
- nāśhāya
- — to be perished
- samṛiddha vegāḥ
- — with great speed
- tathā eva
- — similarly
- nāśhāya
- — to be perished
- viśhanti
- — enter
- lokāḥ
- — these people
- tava
- — your
- api
- — also
- vaktrāṇi
- — mouths
- samṛiddha-vegāḥ
- — with great speed
Meaning
As moths hurriedly rush into a blazing fire, leading to their own destruction, so too these creatures hurry into Your mouths, leading to their own destruction.
Commentary
Arjuna gives a second simile: 'As moths rush headlong into a blazing fire to their destruction, so do these beings rush into Your mouths to their destruction.' Arjuna offers a second image, this one more poignant. 'Yatha pradiptam jvalanam patanga visanti nasaya samrddha-vegah' — just as moths (patanga) rush with increasing speed (samrddha-vega) into a blazing fire (pradipta jvalana) to their destruction (nasaya). 'Tatha eva nasaya visanti lokas tava api vaktrani samrddha-vegah' — so these beings (lokah) too rush with increasing speed into Your mouths to their destruction. Shankaracharya notes the difference between this simile and the river image (11.28). The river flowing to the ocean is natural and serene; but the moth rushing into the fire is a poignant image of beings rushing — driven, almost compulsively — toward their own destruction. There is something of the tragic compulsion here: like moths fatally drawn to the flame, beings rush headlong, with 'increasing speed,' toward their end. This verse adds a note of tragic compulsion to the vision of mortality. Unlike the serene river, the moths are driven, fast and heedless, toward the fire that destroys them — an image of beings hurrying, often unwittingly, toward their own dissolution. The insight is sobering and self-reflective: how often do beings — and we ourselves — rush 'with increasing speed' toward what harms or undoes us, driven by compulsion, blind to where we're headed? The moth-to-the-flame image is uncomfortably apt for so much of human behavior. We are often drawn, almost magnetically, toward things that finally destroy us — destructive habits, harmful desires, the very patterns that diminish us — and we rush toward them not slowly but with 'increasing speed,' heedless of the consequences, mesmerized by the immediate allure like a moth fixated on the flame. This is a call to awareness. Where in your own life are you the moth, rushing compulsively toward something that looks alluring but actually harms you? The destructive craving, the toxic pattern, the thing you keep returning to even though it diminishes you — these are the flames we rush toward heedlessly. The teaching invites honest self-examination: notice the compulsions driving you, and ask whether they're carrying you toward genuine flourishing or, like the moth, toward your own undoing. Awareness of the pattern is the first step to no longer being helplessly drawn into the flame. Don't rush heedlessly; see clearly where your compulsions are taking you.
How is Bhagavad Gita 11.29 relevant to modern life?
Arjuna's second simile is even more pointed and uncomfortable than the river: beings rush toward their destruction like moths into a flame — drawn, fast, and heedless. Unlike the serene river flowing home, the moth is driven, almost compulsively, toward the very fire that destroys it. And this image is uncomfortably apt for so much of human behavior. The insight is sobering and self-reflective: how often do we ourselves rush 'with increasing speed' toward what actually harms or undoes us — driven by compulsion, blind to where we're headed? We're often drawn, almost magnetically, toward things that at the deepest level destroy us — destructive habits, harmful cravings, toxic relationships, the very patterns that diminish us — and we rush toward them not slowly and carefully but fast and heedless, mesmerized by the immediate allure, fixated on the flame like the moth. This is a direct call to honest self-awareness. Where in YOUR life are you the moth? What looks alluring and irresistible but is actually carrying you toward your own undoing? The destructive craving you keep feeding, the toxic pattern you keep returning to, the thing you rush toward even though some part of you knows it diminishes you — these are the flames. The teaching invites you to examine the compulsions driving your behavior and honestly ask: is this carrying me toward genuine flourishing, or, like the moth, toward my own destruction? Awareness of the pattern is the first step toward no longer being helplessly pulled into the flame. So don't rush heedlessly toward what merely glitters. Pause, see clearly where your compulsions are actually taking you, and choose the river's path home rather than the moth's rush into the fire.
What does Bhagavad Gita 11.29 teach today's generation (Gen Z & millennials)?
Arjuna's second simile is even more pointed and uncomfortable than the river: beings rush toward their destruction like moths into a flame — drawn, fast, and heedless. Unlike the serene river flowing home, the moth is driven, almost compulsively, toward the very fire that destroys it. And this image is uncomfortably accurate for so much of human behavior. The insight is sobering and self-reflective: how often do we ourselves rush 'with increasing speed' toward what actually harms or undoes us — driven by compulsion, blind to where we're headed? We're often drawn, almost magnetically, toward things that in truth wreck us — destructive habits, harmful cravings, toxic relationships, the exact patterns that diminish us — and we rush toward them not slowly and carefully but fast and heedless, mesmerized by the immediate hit, fixated on the flame like the moth. This is a direct call to honest self-awareness. Where in YOUR life are you the moth? What looks irresistibly alluring but is actually carrying you toward your own undoing? The destructive craving you keep feeding, the toxic pattern you keep returning to, the thing you rush toward even though part of you knows it's wrecking you — those are the flames. The teaching invites you to examine the compulsions driving your behavior and honestly ask: is this carrying me toward genuine flourishing, or, like the moth, toward my own destruction? Awareness of the pattern is the first step toward no longer being helplessly pulled into the flame. So don't rush heedlessly toward what just glitters. Pause, see clearly where your compulsions are actually taking you, and choose the river's path home over the moth's rush into the fire.
What does Bhagavad Gita 11.29 mean explained simply for kids?
Arjuna gives another comparison, and this one is a little different: he says the beings rushing toward the cosmic mouths are like MOTHS flying fast into a fire! Now, this is sadder than the rivers, because moths fly into the flame and get hurt — they're drawn to the bright fire even though it's dangerous! This teaches us something important to watch out for: sometimes we rush toward things that LOOK exciting or fun, but actually aren't good for us — just like the moth gets fooled by the pretty flame! Think about it: do you ever keep doing something that you know isn't really good for you, just because it seems fun in the moment? Maybe too many sweets, or staying up too late, or a habit that doesn't help you? Those are like the moth's flame! The lesson: be aware and look carefully before rushing toward something just because it's shiny and tempting. Ask yourself: 'Is this really good for me, or am I being like the moth?' Being thoughtful instead of rushing in helps you choose what's truly good — and avoid the flames that look pretty but cause harm!
Related shlokas
Chapter context
Granted divine sight, Arjuna beholds Krishna's overwhelming universal form (Vishvarupa) containing all worlds, gods and time itself. Awestruck and terrified, he prays for the gentle four-armed form to return.
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