Gita 06.06 – Train the mind as a horse is trained

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bandhur ātmātmanas tasya
yenātmaivātmanā jitaḥ
anātmanas tu śatrutve
vartetātmaiva śatru-vat (Bg 6.6)

Word-for-word:
bandhuḥ — friend; ātmā — the mind; ātmanaḥ — of the living entity; tasya — of him; yena — by whom; ātmā — the mind; eva — certainly; ātmanā — by the living entity; jitaḥ — conquered; anātmanaḥ — of one who has failed to control the mind; tu — but; śatrutve — because of enmity; varteta — remains; ātmā eva — the very mind; śatru-vat — as an enemy.

Translation:
For him who has conquered the mind, the mind is the best of friends; but for one who has failed to do so, his mind will remain the greatest enemy.

Explanation:
bandhur ātmātmanas tasya: For the soul, the mind is a friend,
yenātmaivātmanā jitaḥ: when the mind has been conquered.
anātmanas tu śatrutve: But for one who has not subdued the mind,
vartetātmaiva śatru-vat: the mind itself behaves like an enemy.

In this verse, Kṛṣṇa makes a clear distinction between the ātmā and the manā. In the previous verse, however, He used the word ātmā to refer to both the soul and the mind. Some commentators translate that verse as, “elevate the self with the self and do not degrade the self with the self, for the self is the friend of the self and also the enemy of the self.” Although such a translation has been given even by some ācāryas, it remains ambiguous. Interpreting one ātmā as the mind, however, not only makes the verse much clearer, but also aligns with the overall theme of this section. Since the focus here is specifically on the role of the mind, this interpretation maintains a clear continuity of thought.

From this, it is clear that the mind is what is being referred to in the previous verse (6.5). The same theme continues in the next verse as well—jitātmanaḥ praśāntasya (6.7). The idea of conquering the soul does not make sense, because the soul does not conquer itself. Therefore, in this context, the word “jitātmanaḥ” clearly refers to the mind.

Without going too much into semantics, this verse (6.6) unambiguously uses the word “manaḥ,” making the overall theme of the section clear. Any ambiguity that might arise from the use of the word ātmanaḥ—sometimes referring to the mind and sometimes to the soul—is resolved in this verse.

Let us look at what this verse says. Kṛṣṇa states that for one who controls the mind, the mind becomes his friend (bandhur ātmātmanas tasya). Ordinarily, we don’t speak of “controlling a friend.” Instead, we cooperate with a friend—we assist a friend, and in turn the friend assists us. Friendship is essentially a cooperative relationship.

If someone were to say, “I control my friend,” we would naturally wonder, what kind of friendship is that? Yes, there can be influence or gentle guidance when there is love, but we do not usually describe that as control, at least not in the context of friendship. For example, parents may say, “I have control over my child—if I tell him to do this, he will do it.” But that is a parent–child relationship, not a friendship.

Interestingly, Kṛṣṇa is not speaking of “controlling a friend;” He is speaking of “controlling in order to make a friend”—which is even more intriguing. Normally, when we try to control someone, it does not make that person a friend. If we say that someone “becomes” a friend, it implies that earlier the person was not a friend.

Now, let us look at the second part of the verse, where Kṛṣṇa speaks about the enemy (vartetā). This means that the mind can remain an enemy. Ordinarily, when we control an enemy, does that enemy then become our friend? Hardly ever.

Take a political example: if India considers Pakistan an enemy, and somehow India controls Pakistan, will Pakistan automatically become a friend? Usually not. When a foe is subdued by force, that foe resents the control and waits for an opportunity to retaliate. Such an enemy seeks to wreak havoc and cause misery to the controller.

But here Kṛṣṇa is saying something striking—after you control, the mind actually becomes a friend. To understand this better, it helps to look not at the example of two human enemies, but at how a man breaks and trains a horse.

When a horse is new—either young and untrained, or freshly captured from the wild—it resists being ridden. It neighs, kicks with its hooves, and tries to throw off the rider. At this stage, the horse does not want to submit. If the prospective rider is inexperienced, he often seeks the help of a trainer, sometimes called a coulier, who is expert in handling such horses. The trainer’s task is to “break the horse.” This phrase does not mean breaking its bones, but breaking its obstinacy and stubbornness.

There is a systematic process, involving a blend of love and discipline, by which the horse is trained. Some trainers who truly care for horses may even avoid the term “breaking,” preferring to speak of “gentling” or “training” the horse. Essentially, however, what is happening is that the horse’s obstinacy or recalcitrance (stubborn opposition) is gradually reduced—steadily and patiently—through the trainer’s firm determination. As the bond between the horse and trainer deepens, the once wild creature that would violently resist or throw off anyone who approached it now begins to respond gently. The same horse that once resisted fiercely now neighs softly and welcomes a rider. This remarkable transformation occurs because the horse has been disciplined—what is often described as “breaking the horse.”

Likewise, we should not view the relationship between ourselves and the mind as inherently or incorrigibly adversarial. “Inherently” would mean that opposition is the mind’s intrinsic nature, and “incorrigibly” would imply that such a nature can never be changed. That is not the case. Yes, the mind may often act in an adversarial way, but that tendency can be overcome. And the way to overcome it is not merely by brute force. If a trainer were to rely only on beating the horse whenever it resisted, the outcome would be counterproductive. While occasional discipline may be necessary, the real key lies in reorienting the horse.

Similarly, we need to reorient the mind by training it. This training involves directing the mind to act according to spiritual and scriptural principles, rather than allowing it to wander as it pleases. Just as a horse may want to run aimlessly here and there, the trainer steadily guides it toward a chosen path. In the same way, we must discipline the horse of the mind, steering it toward the higher destination we intend, and not permitting it to stray into undesirable directions.

The best direction in which we can allow the mind to go is toward Kṛṣṇa, for He is all-attractive and omnipotent. Contact with Kṛṣṇa helps us bring the mind under control far more effectively than any other method. Thus, by restraining the mind from wandering into undesirable directions and steadily guiding it toward Him, we truly learn to control it. Just as a horse, once trained, can become the most faithful ally of its master—even rescuing him from danger on the battlefield by carrying him swiftly to safety. The same horse that earlier tried to throw him off or strike him with its hooves can later become his protector.

Likewise, the very mind that once endangered us by dragging us into harmful indulgences can, when disciplined and fixed on Kṛṣṇa, become our greatest ally and protector.

In a similar way, the mind that often troubles us can, when repeatedly exposed to Kṛṣṇa, gradually become purified and attracted to Him. Once purified, that same mind turns into our well-wisher. At present, however, the opposite often happens: even when we are in a safe devotional environment, the mind suddenly throws up reminders of sensual temptations, and if we yield to them, we slip from safety into a danger zone. This is the characteristic of the impure mind—it distracts, misleads, and pulls us away from protection into peril.

But when the mind becomes purified, even in the midst of temptation it reminds us: “This is not what your life is meant for. You have indulged in such pleasures many times, and there is no lasting satisfaction in them. Turn instead to the shelter of Kṛṣṇa.” In this way, the mind lifts us from the danger zone back into the safe zone. Thus, the purified mind becomes an instrument of deliverance.

In conclusion, Kṛṣṇa tells us to strive to control the mind, for by doing so we can make it our friend. When the mind becomes a friend, it assists us by directing our thoughts toward Kṛṣṇa. By contemplating on Kṛṣṇa and considering how best to serve Him, we progress steadily on our spiritual journey and ultimately attain everlasting happiness upon reaching Him.

Thank you.