Sometimes It Has to Hurt to Make You See (You’re on Your Own) - Bhagavad Gita
Riya Kumari | Apr 23, 2025, 23:58 IST
( Image credit : Times Life Bureau )
So there I was—standing in the emotional equivalent of an abandoned Ikea parking lot at midnight, phone in one hand, existential dread in the other, realizing something horrifying: no one was coming to save me. No knight. No therapist with a last-minute cancellation. Not even a text from the group chat.
You don’t really understand aloneness until you stop feeling abandoned by people and start feeling abandoned by life.
That quiet ache when nothing’s falling into place. When effort isn’t translating into results. When even your own prayers feel like they’re bouncing off the ceiling. It’s not heartbreak, not exactly. It’s something heavier: the realization that no one’s coming to figure this out for you. Not your partner, not your friends, not God in the way you hoped. And that is exactly where the Bhagavad Gita begins. Not in peace. Not in clarity. But in chaos.
Arjuna Wasn’t Okay, and That’s Where It All Started
Arjuna, the warrior, stands at the edge of a battlefield—about to face people he once loved. Cousins. Mentors. Elders. His hands tremble. His knees give way. He doesn’t want to fight. Not because he’s a coward. Because he’s human. He turns to Krishna, who isn’t just his friend or charioteer—but the Divine in disguise.
If this were a modern story, Krishna would be the quiet one in the corner of your breakdown, sipping chai, waiting for you to stop spiraling. And when you finally ask, “What do I do?”, He doesn’t tell you to feel better. He tells you to wake up. To rise above your emotions. To stop asking life to make sense before you start living it. Because, He says—“Your sorrow is born of illusion.”
The Truth No One Likes Hearing: You’re Responsible for You
The Gita doesn’t coddle you. It doesn’t romanticise your pain. It teaches you to walk through it. In a world that glorifies healing as soft light and scented candles, the Gita tells you: Healing is war. It is action. It is responsibility. We all want guidance. But what we often mean is: Tell me what to do so I don’t have to carry the weight of choosing.
But life doesn’t give you that. And neither does Krishna. Instead, He says: Act. Do what’s right. Without needing the world to applaud or even understand. That’s maturity. Not the absence of pain, but the refusal to be paralyzed by it.
Pain Is Not the Enemy. Your Expectations Are
Most of us suffer not because of what’s happening—but because we believed it shouldn’t be happening. We thought life would be fair. That good intentions guaranteed good results. That love returned would be love received. But Krishna says something radical: “You have the right to action. Not to the fruits of action.”
That means: Do your part. Show up. Love, work, speak with integrity. But let go of your obsession with how it turns out. Because control is a beautiful illusion—and the source of so much suffering. When you truly get this, you don’t become passive. You become powerful. You stop clinging. You start living.
Loneliness vs. Aloneness
There’s a subtle shift that happens when you realise no one’s coming—not because people don’t care, but because they can’t live your life for you. That’s not loneliness. That’s aloneness. And it’s sacred. It’s the moment your inner world starts building itself up again—not based on validation, but on truth. On clarity. On the still, quiet knowing that: I am enough. I am capable. I am not broken.
People often think ancient texts are hard to understand. They’re not. They’re just hard to accept. Because the Gita won’t tell you how to avoid suffering. It’ll teach you how to move through it without losing your soul. It won’t teach you how to win the world. It’ll teach you how to win yourself. And that, in the end, is the only victory that ever lasts.
So If It Hurts Right Now, Let It
But don’t run. Don’t numb it. Sit with it long enough to hear what it’s actually saying. Because sometimes, it has to hurt to make you see. Not that you’re abandoned. Not that you’re lost. But that this is the beginning of real clarity. And real clarity, like real freedom, never needs saving.
That quiet ache when nothing’s falling into place. When effort isn’t translating into results. When even your own prayers feel like they’re bouncing off the ceiling. It’s not heartbreak, not exactly. It’s something heavier: the realization that no one’s coming to figure this out for you. Not your partner, not your friends, not God in the way you hoped. And that is exactly where the Bhagavad Gita begins. Not in peace. Not in clarity. But in chaos.
Arjuna Wasn’t Okay, and That’s Where It All Started
Krishna
( Image credit : Times Life Bureau )
Arjuna, the warrior, stands at the edge of a battlefield—about to face people he once loved. Cousins. Mentors. Elders. His hands tremble. His knees give way. He doesn’t want to fight. Not because he’s a coward. Because he’s human. He turns to Krishna, who isn’t just his friend or charioteer—but the Divine in disguise.
If this were a modern story, Krishna would be the quiet one in the corner of your breakdown, sipping chai, waiting for you to stop spiraling. And when you finally ask, “What do I do?”, He doesn’t tell you to feel better. He tells you to wake up. To rise above your emotions. To stop asking life to make sense before you start living it. Because, He says—“Your sorrow is born of illusion.”
The Truth No One Likes Hearing: You’re Responsible for You
Walk
( Image credit : Pexels )
The Gita doesn’t coddle you. It doesn’t romanticise your pain. It teaches you to walk through it. In a world that glorifies healing as soft light and scented candles, the Gita tells you: Healing is war. It is action. It is responsibility. We all want guidance. But what we often mean is: Tell me what to do so I don’t have to carry the weight of choosing.
But life doesn’t give you that. And neither does Krishna. Instead, He says: Act. Do what’s right. Without needing the world to applaud or even understand. That’s maturity. Not the absence of pain, but the refusal to be paralyzed by it.
Pain Is Not the Enemy. Your Expectations Are
Think
( Image credit : Pexels )
Most of us suffer not because of what’s happening—but because we believed it shouldn’t be happening. We thought life would be fair. That good intentions guaranteed good results. That love returned would be love received. But Krishna says something radical: “You have the right to action. Not to the fruits of action.”
That means: Do your part. Show up. Love, work, speak with integrity. But let go of your obsession with how it turns out. Because control is a beautiful illusion—and the source of so much suffering. When you truly get this, you don’t become passive. You become powerful. You stop clinging. You start living.
Loneliness vs. Aloneness
Solitude
( Image credit : Pexels )
There’s a subtle shift that happens when you realise no one’s coming—not because people don’t care, but because they can’t live your life for you. That’s not loneliness. That’s aloneness. And it’s sacred. It’s the moment your inner world starts building itself up again—not based on validation, but on truth. On clarity. On the still, quiet knowing that: I am enough. I am capable. I am not broken.
People often think ancient texts are hard to understand. They’re not. They’re just hard to accept. Because the Gita won’t tell you how to avoid suffering. It’ll teach you how to move through it without losing your soul. It won’t teach you how to win the world. It’ll teach you how to win yourself. And that, in the end, is the only victory that ever lasts.