Bhagavad Gita’s Take on Heartbreak: Why Pain Is a Path to Growth
Ayush Singh | Apr 21, 2025, 11:20 IST
Until you come across age-old phrases that speak directly to your wounds, heartbreak can seem like the end of your narrative. This essay chronicles a person's emotional collapse following a breakup and how the Bhagavad Gita unpredictably served as a roadmap through the confusion. It becomes evident with every verse that sorrow is your teacher, not your enemy. This is about going deeper rather than moving on, as seen by Arjuna's emotional breakdown and the silent wisdom of detachment. This is more than just a book to read if you've ever felt broken. It serves as a reminder of your completeness.
Nobody prepares you for the kind of heartbreak that leaves you questioning your entire worth. One moment you're planning your future with someone. The next, you’re sitting on your bedroom floor, phone in hand, re-reading old messages that now feel like fiction.
That silence after a breakup? It’s loud. And confusing. And in that emotional storm, you find yourself wondering — is there any deeper meaning to all this pain?
That’s when I stumbled upon something I’d ignored most of my life — the Bhagavad Gita. A scripture I thought belonged in temples or dusty bookshelves was suddenly speaking directly to my broken heart.
It didn’t offer relationship advice. No dos and don'ts. But somehow, it offered something much more powerful — clarity.
Arjuna’s story in the Gita starts with a breakdown. Not a spiritual one — an emotional collapse. He’s standing on the battlefield, overwhelmed at the idea of hurting those he once loved. His arms go weak, and he says, “I cannot fight.”
I read that line again and again.
Because that’s what heartbreak feels like. Not being able to “fight” — to show up for work, for friends, even for yourself. You question your decisions, your memories, your worth.
But Krishna doesn’t baby Arjuna. He doesn’t tell him to run away or numb his emotions. He tells him to face it. To feel it, understand it, and move through it.
And that… that changed something in me.
There’s a verse I wrote on a Post-it and stuck to my mirror. It said:
> “The soul is eternal. It is not born and does not die.” (Chapter 2, Verse 20)
I didn’t fully get it at first. But after sitting with it for a few days, it hit me — this breakup wasn’t the death of me. It was just the death of a version of me that was deeply attached to someone else.
When someone walks away, it feels like they took pieces of you with them. But the Gita says otherwise. It reminds you: your essence is untouched. The part of you that’s real — the soul — doesn’t depend on someone else to exist.
That thought gave me back a little strength. Just enough to sit up straighter the next morning.One of the most painful realizations post-breakup is how much of yourself you gave up. The songs you stopped listening to because they didn’t like them. The dreams you shelved because they didn’t fit in their idea of “us.”
The Gita warns about this. It says attachment creates suffering. When you tie your happiness to a person, their exit feels like erasure.
But detachment, in Gita terms, doesn’t mean not loving. It means loving with awareness. Knowing that while love can be a beautiful part of life, it should never be your only life.
You’re allowed to love deeply — but you’re also allowed to keep your center intact.
There’s this assumption that if you’re in pain, something’s wrong. That you need to fix it, escape it, or bury it under a pile of distractions.
But the Gita takes a different approach. It invites you to look at pain like a teacher.
That hit hard.
Because when I stopped trying to “move on” and started asking why it hurt so much, I realized the breakup touched wounds that were already there. Old fears of not being enough. Deep-rooted abandonment issues. Stuff I never dealt with.
The pain wasn’t random. It was revealing.
This part was the hardest pill to swallow.
> “You have the right to your actions, not to the results.” (Chapter 2, Verse 47)
I had done everything I could. Communicated. Cared. Showed up. And yet, they still left. I blamed myself for weeks. What else could I have done?
But this verse reminded me — effort doesn’t always guarantee outcome. That’s not failure. That’s life.
It’s okay to give your best and still lose the person. Letting go isn’t weakness. It’s wisdom.
After the crying stopped — and it did, eventually — came the weird quiet. The kind that feels like you’re walking through the ruins of something that once meant everything.
That’s when I started writing again. Reconnecting with friends I ghosted while I was busy being “in love.” Taking care of my body, slowly. Eating food I liked. Laughing without guilt.
The Gita says we all have dharma — a purpose. Sometimes heartbreak clears the fog, so you can see it again.
It’s strange how a scripture written thousands of years ago can sit beside you during a modern-day breakup and quietly whisper: “You’re not alone.”
The Bhagavad Gita doesn’t heal you instantly. But it gives you something to hold onto when your world feels like it’s crumbling.
It tells you that your pain is valid. That love is beautiful but not the only thing that defines you. That heartbreak is hard — but it’s not the end.
If you’re going through heartbreak right now, I’m not here to give advice. Just… take a pause. Breathe. Eat something warm. Read the Gita if you’re up for it. Or just read that one line:
“You are not this body. You are not this mind.”
You’re something deeper. And that deeper you? It’s still whole. Still worthy. Still capable of giving love — especially to yourself.
That’s what I’m learning. One verse, one day, one heartbreak at a time.
Explore the latest trends and tips in Health & Fitness, Travel, Life Hacks, Fashion & Beauty, and Relationships at Times Life!
That silence after a breakup? It’s loud. And confusing. And in that emotional storm, you find yourself wondering — is there any deeper meaning to all this pain?
That’s when I stumbled upon something I’d ignored most of my life — the Bhagavad Gita. A scripture I thought belonged in temples or dusty bookshelves was suddenly speaking directly to my broken heart.
It didn’t offer relationship advice. No dos and don'ts. But somehow, it offered something much more powerful — clarity.
The Emotional Kurukshetra
I read that line again and again.
Because that’s what heartbreak feels like. Not being able to “fight” — to show up for work, for friends, even for yourself. You question your decisions, your memories, your worth.
But Krishna doesn’t baby Arjuna. He doesn’t tell him to run away or numb his emotions. He tells him to face it. To feel it, understand it, and move through it.
And that… that changed something in me.
You’re Not Broken — You’re Becoming
> “The soul is eternal. It is not born and does not die.” (Chapter 2, Verse 20)
I didn’t fully get it at first. But after sitting with it for a few days, it hit me — this breakup wasn’t the death of me. It was just the death of a version of me that was deeply attached to someone else.
When someone walks away, it feels like they took pieces of you with them. But the Gita says otherwise. It reminds you: your essence is untouched. The part of you that’s real — the soul — doesn’t depend on someone else to exist.
That thought gave me back a little strength. Just enough to sit up straighter the next morning.
Love Without Losing Yourself
The Gita warns about this. It says attachment creates suffering. When you tie your happiness to a person, their exit feels like erasure.
But detachment, in Gita terms, doesn’t mean not loving. It means loving with awareness. Knowing that while love can be a beautiful part of life, it should never be your only life.
You’re allowed to love deeply — but you’re also allowed to keep your center intact.
Pain Isn’t Punishment — It’s a Path
But the Gita takes a different approach. It invites you to look at pain like a teacher.
That hit hard.
Because when I stopped trying to “move on” and started asking why it hurt so much, I realized the breakup touched wounds that were already there. Old fears of not being enough. Deep-rooted abandonment issues. Stuff I never dealt with.
The pain wasn’t random. It was revealing.
Do What You Can — Then Let Go
> “You have the right to your actions, not to the results.” (Chapter 2, Verse 47)
I had done everything I could. Communicated. Cared. Showed up. And yet, they still left. I blamed myself for weeks. What else could I have done?
But this verse reminded me — effort doesn’t always guarantee outcome. That’s not failure. That’s life.
It’s okay to give your best and still lose the person. Letting go isn’t weakness. It’s wisdom.
Purpose After Pain
That’s when I started writing again. Reconnecting with friends I ghosted while I was busy being “in love.” Taking care of my body, slowly. Eating food I liked. Laughing without guilt.
The Gita says we all have dharma — a purpose. Sometimes heartbreak clears the fog, so you can see it again.
Ancient Words, Real Comfort
The Bhagavad Gita doesn’t heal you instantly. But it gives you something to hold onto when your world feels like it’s crumbling.
It tells you that your pain is valid. That love is beautiful but not the only thing that defines you. That heartbreak is hard — but it’s not the end.
The Last Thing I’ll Say (For Now)
“You are not this body. You are not this mind.”
You’re something deeper. And that deeper you? It’s still whole. Still worthy. Still capable of giving love — especially to yourself.
That’s what I’m learning. One verse, one day, one heartbreak at a time.
Explore the latest trends and tips in Health & Fitness, Travel, Life Hacks, Fashion & Beauty, and Relationships at Times Life!