उपनिषद् · Varāha 2.83
॥
देवनागरी
सर्वचिन्तां परित्यज्य सावधानेन चेतसा । नाद एवानुसन्धेयो योगसाम्राज्यमिच्छता
लिप्यंतरण (IAST)
sarvacintāṃ parityajya sāvadhānena cetasā | nāda evānusandheyo yogasāmrājyamicchatā
शब्दशः अर्थ
संस्कृतIASTअर्थ
सर्व-चिन्तां परित्यज्यsarva-cintāṃ parityajyaevery reflection, having abandoned
स-अवधानेन चेतसाsa-avadhānena cetasāwith an attentive consciousness
नादः एव अनुसन्धेयःnādaḥ eva anusandheyaḥthe resonance alone must be attended to
योग-साम्राज्यम् इच्छताyoga-sāmrājyam icchatāby one desiring the sovereignty of yoga
अनुवाद
"Having abandoned every reflection, with an attentive consciousness, — the resonance alone must be attended to by one desiring the sovereignty of yoga."
संस्करण
2a94fd072d84 · प्रकाशित 12 अग॰ 2026, 5:00:00 am UTC
उपलब्ध भाषाएँRUENश्लोक बदलें इन कुंजियों से
The second chapter ends with a pointer to nada, "the inner resonance," and it will be the subject of the fifth chapter; discussed when reading the Jabala-darshana (6.36). Worth noting is the word anusandheya, "must be attended to," from anu-sam-dha, "to attach to, to connect, to investigate." This word, in Vaishnava practice, is technical and means investigation, union with the object; discussed when reading verse thirty-two.
Let us now look back over the second chapter, for it is large and falls into parts. In it, three languages alternate, and they deserve naming. The language of relation: "breaker of the devotees' anguish" (2.1), "form in me the notion of 'I'" (2.4), "that one am I, Vishnu" (2.8), "reflection on me, speech about me, mutual discourse about me" (2.46), a mutual bow (2.34), fasting as "dwelling near" (2.39).
The language of identity: "there is neither world, nor souls, nor Lord" (2.11), "a bow to me" (2.33), "the teacher is contrived" (2.73). The language of craft: passages, breath, mercury, resonance. This alternation is a mark of a compilation, and we have noted it more than once.
The finest things in the chapter, in my view, are three passages, and all three are comparisons: the serpent and its shed skin (2.67), the serpent in the anthill (2.40), and the dancing girl with the pot (2.82). All three speak of one thing: what is left behind and what remains; and all three were written by someone who looked at living things, not merely reasoned.