Arjuna presses the question again: you praise renouncing action and you praise acting — which is it? Krishna does not waver. Both paths reach the same summit, but for someone in the world, action done in yoga surpasses renunciation. Only children insist these are two roads. Stand firmly in either and you win the fruit of both. The person who acts in knowledge moves through the world seeing, hearing, touching, breathing, yet thinks: I do nothing at all. It is only the senses moving among their objects, only nature carrying out its own business. The self sits at rest in the body's nine-gated city and does not act. Sin slides off such a person the way water slides off a lotus leaf. Krishna then draws the portrait of inner freedom in sharp, spare lines. Not thrilled by the pleasant, not shaken by the painful. Steady. Clear. Rooted in what does not change. Pleasures born of contact begin and end; they are wombs of sorrow, and the wise take no delight there. The one whose joy, rest, and light are all within becomes what is eternal and enters its freedom. This is not a freedom that waits for death. It is available while still in the body, to anyone who can hold the surge of craving and anger before it spills over. The chapter ends with Krishna naming himself as the friend of every creature and the one all offerings feed. Know this, and find peace. The teaching is not asking you to stop feeling. It is asking you to notice that the part of you that watches the feeling is already still.