Where science meets human stories.

The Song That Still Speaks: Finding Myself through the Bhagavad Gita

As a young girl, growing up in an Indian household, it is natural to be surrounded by quotes and teachings of Shri Bhagavad Gita. The Bhagavad Gita is India’s ancient spiritual guide and holy book. It is a series of dialogues between Lord Krishna and Prince Arjuna offering timeless wisdom on values, relationships, duty, life, and inner strength.

Whether during dinner-table conversations or evening chats, I would often hear my grandmother, and aunts quote the Gita as an answer to every problem being discussed.

I saw our holy book in Bollywood movies first, where an actor places his hand on it and vows to tell the truth and ‘nothing but the truth’, symbolizing that Bhagavad Gita is the ultimate promise of truth.

When I was only eight, my father introduced me to the 139-episode-long television show called ‘The Mahabharata’, the timeless epic within which the Gita unfolds. My parents always say that the Bhagavad Gita is not merely a religious text, but a spiritual guide that offers answers to universal questions helping us navigate the chaos in the world today.

Although I grew up listening to verses from the Bhagavad Gita all my childhood, and strange as it may be, I could never really understand its significance. Even after reading many abridged children’s versions, I would often wonder: “Why should I care about this conversation between Lord Krishna and Arjuna?” Or “What can I do with these teachings?” I often debated in my mind that how could a simple conversation between two people become one of the world’s greatest sources of wisdom?

My preteen brain was baffled by Krishna’s complex ideas, and I could never imagine using those philosophical teachings in my own life. How wrong I was!

Teenage can be tumultuous. I often faced moral and ethical dilemmas. Surprisingly, this made me revisit Gita, looking for answers. I was still sceptical, but I wanted to honour what my elders were telling me.

Around this time one day, I picked up Roopa Pai’s book, “The Bhagavad Gita for Children,” again. It was the same book that I had once read without understanding the depth of knowledge it offered. This time, by some divine intervention, I started to see the connection: I could see my own life in every question Prince Arjuna asked and in every answer Lord Krishna gave.

Though the book comprises of 18 chapters (gist of 700 verses), each offering a different lesson on various aspects of life, there are two shlokas or verses that resonate with me the most.

1. Chapter 2 - Shloka 47

Karmanye-vaadhi-kaarastey maa phaleshu kadaachana Maa karma-phala-hetur-bhoor-maa tey sango-stva-karmani

You only have the right to perform your duty, but you are not entitled to the fruits of your action. Never consider yourself the cause of the results of your activities and do not be attached to inaction.

This is perhaps Gita’s most well-known Shloka. Even as a child, I could recite it from memory, though I never understood its meaning completely. I always believed that the actions we performed were directly related to the results, and the person performing them alone was responsible for their results.

It was hard for me to even fathom that the results aren’t caused by my actions. Even the latter part of the Shloka was contradictory and perplexing: why would anyone engage in action if they believed they weren’t the cause of it?

I must admit that I have been a child who used to thoroughly enjoy basking in my own glory when I got a high grade on a test or excelled in any of my tasks. After reading the shloka, I mentally dismissed this philosophy, carrying the same conditioned mindset into my teenage years.

Now here’s where the dilemma began. My belief was quite satisfying during small tasks, but as high-stakes exams loomed, especially the IGCSE (10th class) finals, I started to feel the pressure of the high expectations I had set for myself. I also began to feel more overwhelmed, burdening myself with hopes of an excellent score. Each time I did not get the desired scores; I would agonise, blaming myself for not preparing well enough. I buried myself in spreadsheets and predictions, often spending more time forecasting outcomes than studying. Happens to the best of us.

After the stressful ordeal of taking my exams, I decided to return to the Bhagavad Gita again, picking up the children’s book adaptation by Roopa Pai that I had read in my childhood.

As I read the interpretation and explanation of this Shloka, the once obscure concept started falling into place, and I could relate Prince Arjuna’s struggles to my own. I discerned it was pointless to keep dwelling on the result or even perform my action with only the outcome in mind.

In my case, I was working out of fear. Fear of the result. But fear is not my path. Doing my karma to the best of my ability is. I realised that it is my duty to keep studying and trying my best, regardless of the result.

Based on my past experiences, I finally understood what Lord Krishna meant when he said that one must not attach themselves to the result of their action.

The journey of learning the Gita is not smooth. It requires the mindset of a dedicated disciple, trusting our spiritual and holy book completely. Some days, the reward felt undeserved; on others, my efforts felt unnoticed and unappreciated.

It often felt unfair, until I came to understand that I am not the doer, or the cause of my outcome, I am only the medium. I also realized that tying myself to results only multiplied my anxiety. Krishna’s message was clear: Focus on your effort, not the outcome.

Ultimately, the score, the grades, the results I get are decided by my hard work and efforts-my ongoing karma of hard work and perseverance. Of course, adopting the philosophy is much different from just understanding it, and it is never easy to break the conditioned mindset of thoughts that constantly wander to the final result.

After many nights of pondering over these questions, I eventually understood that as a medium, my role is to study with sincerity. The results lie beyond my control. Internalizing this idea is difficult, but revisiting the Gita has truly sparked my journey.

2. Chapter 6 - Shloka 35

Shribhagvanuvach asanshaya mahaabaaho mano durnigrahan Chalam abhyaasen tu kaunteya vairaagyernd ch-graharitay

O Son of Kunti! The mind is undoubtedly restless and difficult to curb, but it can be controlled by repeated practice and detachment.

As a child, my parents always emphasized the importance of controlling the mind and focusing on the task at hand. As children, being present becomes difficult with multiple distractions surrounding us, television, phone or even friends.

While the distractions have changed as I progress through my teenage years, the battle to focus my mind has remained.

Distraction is still the biggest deterrent to every task I am meant to perform. It was only while re-reading the Gita, I realised that Lord Krishna himself had offered the answer to this universal dilemma. While the mind can be as fickle as the wind, Krishna speaks of yoga and meditation as means to practice self-discipline.

While most people perceive self-discipline as a practice related to adhering to strict routines, its essence lies in mastering the mind. Even though I may never be able to achieve the state of perfect bliss as Krishna describes, I try every day. I am slowly training my mind to focus on a task longer, with discipline. One small step at a time.

Meditation and Yoga help me reduce my stress and anxiety helping me ground myself and look at my anxieties with a detached view.

Unknowingly, this has also led me to become a more peaceful and happier individual.

Rightly, the Gita defines true happiness as clarity, a state of freedom from doubt and fear. If it was to be written as an equation, Faith + Karma + self-discipline = Wisdom → Happiness.

As a child, I never truly understood the power of the Bhagavad Gita. We also call it the Song of the God. Though I know I may never attain the perfect state of focus and self-control, I have come to accept that this journey of self-discovery itself holds meaning and what truly matters is the intention to keep growing a little every day, to be better than I was yesterday.

Yet over time, I have been knowingly and unknowingly guided by our holy book, shaping me into the best version of myself. I know there are, miles to go before I sleep (Line from Robert Frost poem) but I am determined to use the Bhagavad Gita as my sounding board throughout this journey.

Glass

Every other day the urge is awokenShoulders heavy, mind clouded by words unspokenI want to fix it, but what’s broken?

Hidden behind the veil of ‘grace’Cutting remarks, a sour faceAnd only then do I have to braceWhen the words accidentally escapeAnd only then do I have to chaseThe unknown errors, the imperfect trace

And only then do my feet start to hurtFrom the tiny shards of glass, the specks of dirt

And only then does the vase fall apartThe shattered glass a result of its fragile heart

Every other day I lie awakeHands bloody, eyes stinging from the mistakeI need to fix it, but what did I break?

Navya