The Body is the chariot’s frame,

Where Senses pull like steeds untame;

They race through time on paths of strife,

The restless engines of our life.

The Mind acts as the guiding reins,

To curb the horses' wilder strains;

But if the grip is loose or blind,

The soul is left in snares confined.

The Intellect must drive the car,

To steer the course toward a star;

With Buddhi firm and vision clear,

The way is purged of doubt and fear.

The Atman sits as passenger,

The silent, still, and holy seer;

When all obey the driver’s hand,

It finds the light of Dharma’s land.