[CH1-V4] The Illusion of Invincibility: A Lesson from the Bhagavad Gita’s Fourth Verse

verse 4

Ravi sat at his desk, staring at the endless tabs open on his screen. He had spent hours researching, diving into every possible detail, yet something held him back. He had made progress since yesterday, but doubt still lingered. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that he was ready, the fear of competition gnawed at him. He knew he wasn’t the only one with an idea like his—there were others, possibly stronger, more experienced, and better prepared. What if he was outmatched before he even started?

The Bhagavad Gita app notification buzzed on his phone again. He hesitated, then clicked on it.

Atra śhūrā maheṣhvāsā bhīmārjunasamā yudhi
Yuyudhāno virāṭaśh cha drupadaśh cha mahārathaḥ

“Here in this army, there are mighty archers equal to Bhima and Arjuna in battle—Yuyudhana, Virata, and Drupada, the great warriors.”


The battlefield of Kurukshetra was tense. As Duryodhana surveyed the opposing army, he saw Bhima and Arjuna—two of the strongest warriors of their time. But more than that, he saw others. Yuyudhana (Satyaki), Virata, and Drupada—each of them legendary in their own right. These weren’t ordinary soldiers; they were warriors who had spent their entire lives preparing for war.

For years, Duryodhana had believed he was the strongest. He had built an army, formed alliances, and convinced himself that victory was inevitable. But now, standing face-to-face with his enemies, reality hit him hard. This wasn’t going to be easy. The opposition wasn’t just strong—they were his equals. Maybe even stronger.

That’s why he wasn’t boasting in this verse—he was rattling off names out of nervousness. This was his subconscious trying to reassure itself, but the more he spoke, the more he realized the depth of the battle ahead.


Ravi felt the same way. He had stepped into the entrepreneurial world believing in his own strength. But now, as he looked around, he saw giants. People who had already built what he wanted to build. Just like Duryodhana, he was now recognizing that he was not the only warrior in the field.

A sinking feeling settled in his stomach. He thought about the startup founders he had admired from afar—people who had succeeded despite challenges. For the longest time, he had believed that if he just worked hard enough, he would rise above the rest. But what if hard work wasn’t enough?

He looked at his laptop screen, scrolling through articles about businesses that had failed despite great ideas. What made them different from those who succeeded? Was it luck? Timing? Resources? Experience?

The realization hit him: Duryodhana’s fear was not just about strength—it was about losing control.

For years, Duryodhana had believed he held the advantage. He had built an army with the best warriors he could gather. But at this moment, standing before the Pandavas, he realized something terrifying—he wasn’t in control anymore. No matter how much he had prepared, there were warriors just as strong, just as capable, and just as determined to win.

Ravi felt the same loss of control. He had imagined himself as a future success story, but now, he wasn’t sure if he had what it took to compete with others who were just as determined.


But then, a thought occurred to him. Why was he focusing so much on others?

He thought back to the founders he admired. What if they had also felt the same fear? What if, before they built something great, they too had looked at the competition and wondered, “Can I do this?”

Maybe the difference between those who succeeded and those who didn’t wasn’t about who had the most resources or the best idea. Maybe it was about who was willing to step onto the battlefield despite their fear.

Duryodhana was powerful, but he was crippled by comparison. He was counting warriors on the other side, when he should have been preparing to fight his own battle. His fear didn’t come from his enemies’ strength—it came from his own self-doubt.

Ravi realized he had been making the same mistake. He had spent so much time analyzing his competition that he had lost sight of why he started. His focus had shifted from creating something valuable to proving himself against others.


With a deep breath, Ravi closed the competitor analysis tab on his laptop. He had spent enough time worrying about others. It was time to focus on himself.

Instead of thinking about how many startups were already in the market, he asked himself: What do I bring to the table? Instead of worrying about competition, he thought about how he could serve his customers better.

Duryodhana had a choice—he could either let fear consume him, or he could fight. He chose to fight, but for the wrong reasons—for ego, not purpose.

Ravi had a choice too. And in that moment, he decided—he would fight, but not to prove himself against others. He would fight to create something meaningful.

He opened a new document and began typing. Not out of fear. Not out of insecurity. But out of the realization that the only real battle was within.


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