‘Why Me?’ – Gita's Response to Suffering
Riya Kumari | Jul 15, 2025, 12:47 IST
( Image credit : Times Life Bureau, Timeslife )
So there I was. Sitting on the bathroom floor, dramatically wiping mascara from one eye like I was starring in a sad girl indie montage. The bills were piling, the texts were ghosted, and my career was less "Shonda Rhimes protagonist" and more "background intern who sneezes off-camera." And then, like any rational millennial with access to the internet and unresolved childhood trauma, I asked the eternal, cosmic, all-too-cliché question: Why me?
You’ve been good. Maybe too good. To people who didn’t deserve it. To ones who never thanked you. To strangers you’ll never meet again. You’ve loved hard, forgiven quietly, and swallowed grief like it was part of the menu life handed you. And now? You’re left with empty hands and an even emptier question: Why me? Not in the dramatic, social-media-therapist kind of way. But in that quiet, soul-heavy whisper. The one that sits with you at night when the house is still. When no one's watching and you’re too tired to be strong anymore. When you want answers, not affirmations. And strangely, impossibly, that’s where the Gita begins to speak.
Not All Pain is Punishment
In the Gita, Arjuna is not some sinner, not a villain, not a failure. He is good. Noble. Compassionate. Loyal. And still — he stands on the battlefield, paralyzed. Afraid. Questioning everything. Sounds familiar? Because somewhere deep down, we all carry that innocent belief: If I do good, life will be good to me.
But what the Gita quietly dismantles is this fantasy of fairness. It doesn’t say you suffer because you deserve it. It says, Suffering is part of the design. Not a punishment. A passage. It’s a dangerous truth. And a liberating one.
You Are Not Broken. You Are Becoming
What if all that pain didn’t come to destroy you, but to expose you, to yourself? The Gita speaks not to the ego that screams, “I shouldn’t have to go through this!” But to the soul that quietly knows, “Maybe this is the only way I become who I truly am.” It doesn’t belittle your suffering. It elevates it.
It says: You are not your wounds. But you are what you do with them. And yes, it’s unfair. And yes, you didn’t deserve it. And no, you’re not weak for wanting to give up. But you’re still here. Still hoping. Still kind. That says more about you than anything else ever could.
The World May Never Acknowledge You, But the Gita Does
Most people won’t see the battles you fight daily. The way you keep showing up. The dignity with which you carry your disappointments. The compassion you offer even when your own cup is dry. But the Gita sees. And it says: Do not live for applause. Live in alignment.
Do what is right, not because the world rewards it, but because it’s who you are. Let others play their games. You? You stay rooted. Even when the wind tries to make you forget who you are.
Let Go, Not Because You Don’t Care. But Because You Care Enough to Move On
The Gita doesn’t say: “Don’t feel.” It says: Feel fully. But don’t stay stuck. Let go, not out of apathy, but out of wisdom. Out of knowing that holding on to what hurts you doesn’t make you loyal, it makes you lost.
Forgiveness in the Gita isn’t weakness. It’s clarity. It’s the fierce, quiet choice to not let pain define your future.
And If No One Ever Sees You…
If no one ever thanks you. If no one ever understands what it took for you to still be kind. If you walk this entire life giving more than you ever got, You are not unseen. Life sees. And in some mysterious, divine, invisible way, it counts. It matters. So, why you?
Maybe because only you could carry this weight and still not turn bitter.
Maybe because only you could walk through fire and still choose to love.
And Maybe it was never about what you lost.
But about who you quietly became, when no one was watching. That was the point all along.
Not All Pain is Punishment
Alone
( Image credit : Pexels )
In the Gita, Arjuna is not some sinner, not a villain, not a failure. He is good. Noble. Compassionate. Loyal. And still — he stands on the battlefield, paralyzed. Afraid. Questioning everything. Sounds familiar? Because somewhere deep down, we all carry that innocent belief: If I do good, life will be good to me.
But what the Gita quietly dismantles is this fantasy of fairness. It doesn’t say you suffer because you deserve it. It says, Suffering is part of the design. Not a punishment. A passage. It’s a dangerous truth. And a liberating one.
You Are Not Broken. You Are Becoming
Artist
( Image credit : Pexels )
What if all that pain didn’t come to destroy you, but to expose you, to yourself? The Gita speaks not to the ego that screams, “I shouldn’t have to go through this!” But to the soul that quietly knows, “Maybe this is the only way I become who I truly am.” It doesn’t belittle your suffering. It elevates it.
It says: You are not your wounds. But you are what you do with them. And yes, it’s unfair. And yes, you didn’t deserve it. And no, you’re not weak for wanting to give up. But you’re still here. Still hoping. Still kind. That says more about you than anything else ever could.
The World May Never Acknowledge You, But the Gita Does
Empty hall
( Image credit : Pexels )
Most people won’t see the battles you fight daily. The way you keep showing up. The dignity with which you carry your disappointments. The compassion you offer even when your own cup is dry. But the Gita sees. And it says: Do not live for applause. Live in alignment.
Do what is right, not because the world rewards it, but because it’s who you are. Let others play their games. You? You stay rooted. Even when the wind tries to make you forget who you are.
Let Go, Not Because You Don’t Care. But Because You Care Enough to Move On
Performance
( Image credit : Pexels )
The Gita doesn’t say: “Don’t feel.” It says: Feel fully. But don’t stay stuck. Let go, not out of apathy, but out of wisdom. Out of knowing that holding on to what hurts you doesn’t make you loyal, it makes you lost.
Forgiveness in the Gita isn’t weakness. It’s clarity. It’s the fierce, quiet choice to not let pain define your future.
And If No One Ever Sees You…
Maybe because only you could carry this weight and still not turn bitter.
Maybe because only you could walk through fire and still choose to love.
And Maybe it was never about what you lost.
But about who you quietly became, when no one was watching. That was the point all along.