Krishna Teaches the Meaning of Om to Arjuna

The night before the great war was too still for sleep. Arjuna found Krishna sitting on a hill overlooking both armies—the countless fires of the Kauravas on one side, the smaller but determined flames of the Pandavas on the other.

Arjuna: "Millions of men, Most will never see next week's moon."

Krishna: "Most have already forgotten last week's moon. That's what being human is."

Arjuna: "Krishna, I've been meaning to ask something. Something small, compared to war and death and dharma."

Krishna: "Ask."

Arjuna: "Om. We chant it before every prayer, every ritual, every verse of scripture. But what is it? Why those sounds?"

Krishna smiled.

Krishna: "You call that small? That might be the largest question anyone has ever asked me."

Arjuna: "Then you have time. Neither of us is sleeping tonight."

Krishna: "True. Om is not just a sound. It's the sound. The first vibration that emerged from silence when creation began. Before there was light, there was Om. Before there were words, there was Om. Everything you see—those armies, those fires, those stars—is Om vibrating at different frequencies."

Arjuna: "Everything is sound?"

Krishna: "Everything is vibration. Matter is just vibration so slow you can touch it. Light is vibration so fast you can see it. And Om is the fundamental note from which all other vibrations are variations."

Arjuna: "Why three sounds? A-U-M?"

Krishna: "Because reality has three aspects, and Om encodes them all. The 'A' is creation. Brahma. Birth. The beginning of everything. It's the sound that opens your mouth fully."

He placed the first pebble.

Krishna: "The 'U' is preservation. Vishnu. Maintenance. The long sustaining of what has been born. The sound moves to the middle of your mouth."

Second pebble.

Krishna: "The 'M' is transformation. Shiva. What people wrongly call destruction. It's the closing—the lips coming together—not ending but preparing for the next beginning."

Third pebble.

Krishna: "And then silence. The pause between one Om and the next. That silence is the fourth aspect—turiya—the consciousness that watches creation, preservation, and transformation but is itself unchanging."

Arjuna: "So when we chant Om..."

Krishna: "You are reciting the entire cycle of existence. Birth, life, death, and the awareness that transcends all three. In one breath. In one syllable."

Arjuna considered this.

Arjuna: "If Om is everything, why do we need other mantras? Other prayers?"

Krishna: "Because most minds can't hold everything. So we break it into pieces. Specific mantras for specific purposes. But every mantra starts with Om because every intention, every prayer, every desire is ultimately part of that single cosmic vibration."

Arjuna: "When I chant Om, am I talking to you? To Shiva? To Brahma?"

Krishna: "You're talking to all of us. And none of us. You're talking to the source from which we all emerge. Om is not the name of a god—it's the sound of Existence becoming aware of itself."

Arjuna: "That's... vast."

Krishna: "It's simple, actually. A child can chant Om. A sage can spend lifetimes understanding it. Both are correct. The child touches truth through innocence. The sage touches it through knowledge. The truth doesn't mind which door you use."

Arjuna: "Om."

The sound seemed to hang in the air longer than it should have. The fires below flickered. The stars above seemed to pulse.

Krishna: "Did you feel it?"

Krishna asked.

Arjuna: "I felt... connected. To the armies. To you. To the earth under me. Like for a moment, the boundaries dissolved."

Krishna: "That's Om working. That's what it's for. Not magic. Not ritual. Just... remembering. Remembering that you were never separate. That the Arjuna you think you are is just a temporary shape in the infinite ocean of Arjuna-ness, which is itself a ripple in the infinite ocean of Being, which is... Om."

Arjuna: "And tomorrow, when I kill my cousins?"

Krishna: "You will be Om killing Om. And Om grieving. And Om continuing. Nothing will be lost, Arjuna. Only rearranged."

Arjuna: "That should comfort me more than it does."

Krishna: "Comfort is not the goal. Truth is. Comfort comes later—after the truth has settled into your bones. For now, it's enough to know that Om contains your grief along with everything else. Your tears are sacred vibrations. Even suffering is part of the song."

Arjuna chanted again, and this time, the sound was like a thread connecting him to every soldier on both sides—enemies and friends alike, all of them notes in the same eternal music, all of them temporary shapes of the same infinite sound.

Arjuna: "Thank you,"

Krishna: "Thank Om, I'm just one of its voices."