उपनिषद् · Varāha 3.6
॥
देवनागरी
सत्यचिद्घनमखण्डमद्वयं सर्वदृश्यरहितं निरामयम् । यत्पदं विमलमद्वयं शिवं तत्सदाहमिति मौनमाश्रय
लिप्यंतरण (IAST)
satyacidghanamakhaṇḍamadvayaṃ sarvadṛśyarahitaṃ nirāmayam | yatpadaṃ vimalamadvayaṃ śivaṃ tatsadāhamiti maunamāśraya
शब्दशः अर्थ
संस्कृतIASTअर्थ
सत्य-चित्-घनम् अ-खण्डम् अ-द्वयंsatya-cit-ghanam a-khaṇḍam a-dvayaṃa mass of truth and consciousness, undivided, non-dual
सर्व-दृश्य-रहितं निर्-आमयम्sarva-dṛśya-rahitaṃ nir-āmayamfree of all that is seen, painless
यत् पदं विमलम् अ-द्वयं शिवंyat padaṃ vimalam a-dvayaṃ śivaṃthat place — pure, non-dual, benign
तत् सदा अहम् इतिtat sadā aham iti'that am I, always' — thus
मौनम् आश्रयmaunam āśrayaresort to silence
अनुवाद
"A mass of truth and consciousness, undivided, non-dual, free of all that is seen, painless; that place — pure, non-dual, benign: 'that am I, always' — and resort to silence."
संस्करण
76c23ce8f0ba · प्रकाशित 12 अग॰ 2026, 5:00:00 am UTC
उपलब्ध भाषाएँRUENश्लोक बदलें इन कुंजियों से
Worth noting is that the verse ends in silence: maunam ashraya, "resort to silence." This conclusion is common in nondualist books and, in my view, honest: having said all that can be said, one is bidden to fall silent. We noted when reading the second chapter (2.81) that such an admission is both honest and removes the teaching from verification.
Let us add what deserves saying of silence as a conclusion. There are two silences, and they must be distinguished. The first — silence instead of the word: nothing was said, because there was nothing to say.
The second — silence after the word: everything was said, and one falls silent because nothing further can be uttered. The first is emptiness; the second is fullness. And they cannot be told apart from outside, though from within they can.
The Vaishnava side acknowledges the second, discussed when reading the Pranagnihotra (1.14): the state of stambha, "paralysis," when the voice fails, is counted among the signs of strong feeling, not among hindrances. Let us add what it notes of the first, and what constitutes its caution. Silence one arrives at is a fruit; silence one prescribes is a technique. And this technique is dangerous in that the silent one has nothing by which to test himself: he does not speak — and hence does not reveal whether he has anything to say.
Hence its practice is built on sound: where one utters constantly, it is harder to conceal emptiness.