The dust of Kurukshetra had not settled, but something inside Arjuna had.

A short while ago he had sat slumped in the chariot, his great bow, Gandiva, slipping from his fingers, his eyes wet, his whole body shaking like a banner in a storm. He had wanted to run. He had wanted the battle to swallow itself before it began. Everything had felt tangled and impossible, a knot too tight for any hand to undo.

Now he sat up straight.

He looked at Krishna — his friend, his charioteer, the dark-blue Lord who had not let him quit, who had spoken to him patiently through all his weeping and his clever excuses. The two horses tossed their white manes. The flags above the chariot snapped in the wind. And Arjuna felt, for the first time since he had stepped onto the field, that he knew exactly where he stood.

"My delusion is gone, Krishna," he said, and his voice did not shake. "The fog that was choking me — it has lifted. I can see."

He pressed his palm to his own chest, as if checking that the trembling had truly stopped, and it had.

"By Your grace, Achyuta, You who never fall, never slip, I have remembered who I am. I had forgotten. I was lost in 'mine' and 'I' and 'how can I bear it.' But now I remember. I am not just this frightened body. I am the Self that does not die, set here to do what is right."

He bent and lifted Gandiva from where it had lain. The great bow felt light in his grip, lighter than it had ever felt, as though his arm and his will were finally pointing the same way.

"I stand firm," Arjuna said. "My doubts are gone — every one of them. I do not need to argue any more. I do not need to ask one more question." He bowed his head to his friend. "I will do as You say. I will do Your word."

Krishna said nothing. But the corner of his mouth lifted, the quiet smile of one whose friend has finally come home to himself. The conch was about to sound. The wind carried the smell of the river. And the archer who had nearly thrown his life away stood ready, not because he had been ordered, but because, at last, he understood.