In the End, We Walk Alone ( No One Is Truly Yours ) – Gita on Detachment
Riya Kumari | Apr 16, 2025, 23:58 IST
( Image credit : Times Life Bureau )
I used to believe in forever. You know, the “You hang up first—no, you hang up” kind of forever. The kind that smells like Sunday pancakes and looks suspiciously like an Instagram soft-filtered relationship highlight reel. Then life (and three failed talking stages) taught me the fine art of detachment—via a combo of ghosting, therapy, and… surprise! Ancient Indian philosophy.
We don’t talk about it, but we all live with a quiet hope: that someone, somewhere, will stay. That out of the thousands who pass through our lives—some lovingly, some carelessly—one will be truly ours. Ours in a way that feels unshakable, like gravity. The kind of presence we can rest our life against. But here’s what life—and the Bhagavad Gita—gently, and sometimes not-so-gently, reminds us: No one truly belongs to us. Not in the way we want them to. And strangely enough, that’s not a tragedy. That’s where freedom begins. This isn't about being cynical. It’s about seeing clearly. It’s about understanding that love can be real, commitment can be deep, and connection can be powerful—but clinging only creates suffering. The Gita offers a quieter kind of wisdom: one that doesn’t tell you to stop loving, but to stop gripping. So let’s talk about detachment—not as coldness, but as clarity. Not as withdrawal, but as wisdom.
1. You Can Love Without Owning
The Gita doesn’t ask us to stop caring. It asks us to care without the illusion of control. That’s a big difference. You can love someone dearly—your partner, your parents, your closest friend—and still accept that they are not yours. Not in the permanent, fixed, “you’ll never change or leave” kind of way. Life doesn’t work like that.
This is not an invitation to withdraw or to love halfway. It’s a reminder that the tighter you try to hold someone, the more your fear of losing them starts replacing the joy of simply being with them. True detachment is not indifference. It’s the ability to say, “I choose you now, but I understand that you are free to walk your own path. And I’ll be okay, even if one day you do.”
2. Everything You Hold Will One Day Let Go
The Gita is unapologetically honest: Everything changes. Everything ends. And this is not cruelty—it’s just the rhythm of life. People die. Feelings shift. Relationships evolve. Sometimes things fall apart slowly, and sometimes they disappear without warning. But the deeper truth is: you were never meant to keep any of it forever.
Think about how much of your pain comes from trying to hold on too tightly—to people, to moments, to expectations. The Gita doesn’t tell you to stop loving what you have. It tells you to love with open hands, not clenched fists. Because when it goes—and it will—you’ll be left not with devastation, but with peace. A quiet knowing: I lived that moment fully. I didn’t try to cage it.
3. You Are Not Your Roles, Your Titles, or Your Attachments
One of the most profound things the Gita teaches is this: You are not what you’re attached to. Not your relationship status. Not your success. Not even your identity as someone’s child, partner, or friend. These things matter, yes. They shape our experience. But they are not you. And the more you forget this, the more life will shake you until you remember.
This doesn’t mean you detach from responsibility. It means you show up fully, while staying rooted in something deeper—your inner stability, your stillness, your sense of who you are when everything else is taken away. That part of you? That’s the only thing that doesn’t walk away.
4. Letting Go Isn’t Losing—It’s Returning
We often think that letting go is a kind of defeat. A failure to hold on. A sign that something we cared about slipped away. But the Gita flips this entirely. Letting go is not the end of something. It’s the return to yourself.
Because beneath all our wanting, all our chasing, all our longing to be loved and needed—there is a steadiness that doesn’t depend on anyone else. And we lose sight of it when we’re consumed by who stayed or who left. Detachment is how we find that center again. It doesn’t make us colder. It makes us wiser. Softer. Strangely, it makes us more capable of love—because now we’re not loving out of need. We’re loving out of abundance.
The Loneliness We Fear, and the Peace We Miss
Yes, in the end, we walk alone. But that doesn’t mean we are lonely. It just means we are free. It means that no matter who walks with us, we’re not afraid to keep walking if they stop. Because we’re not leaning our entire weight on someone who was never meant to carry it. This is what the Gita whispers—not in grand declarations, but in quiet truths: Nothing here lasts. Love what comes. Let go when it goes. And never forget who you are when there’s no one else in the room. Because that version of you? That’s the one who walks home. And knows the way.
1. You Can Love Without Owning
This is not an invitation to withdraw or to love halfway. It’s a reminder that the tighter you try to hold someone, the more your fear of losing them starts replacing the joy of simply being with them. True detachment is not indifference. It’s the ability to say, “I choose you now, but I understand that you are free to walk your own path. And I’ll be okay, even if one day you do.”
2. Everything You Hold Will One Day Let Go
Think about how much of your pain comes from trying to hold on too tightly—to people, to moments, to expectations. The Gita doesn’t tell you to stop loving what you have. It tells you to love with open hands, not clenched fists. Because when it goes—and it will—you’ll be left not with devastation, but with peace. A quiet knowing: I lived that moment fully. I didn’t try to cage it.
3. You Are Not Your Roles, Your Titles, or Your Attachments
This doesn’t mean you detach from responsibility. It means you show up fully, while staying rooted in something deeper—your inner stability, your stillness, your sense of who you are when everything else is taken away. That part of you? That’s the only thing that doesn’t walk away.
4. Letting Go Isn’t Losing—It’s Returning
Because beneath all our wanting, all our chasing, all our longing to be loved and needed—there is a steadiness that doesn’t depend on anyone else. And we lose sight of it when we’re consumed by who stayed or who left. Detachment is how we find that center again. It doesn’t make us colder. It makes us wiser. Softer. Strangely, it makes us more capable of love—because now we’re not loving out of need. We’re loving out of abundance.