If Nothing Is Truly Ours, Why Do We Suffer Over Loss? The Gita Answers
Nidhi | Oct 09, 2025, 12:46 IST
Krishna
( Image credit : Times Life Bureau )
Loss touches everyone, whether it’s a loved one, a dream, or a possession we hold dear. But what if the pain we feel isn’t from the loss itself, but from believing it was ever truly ours? The Bhagavad Gita offers timeless guidance on understanding attachment, embracing impermanence, and finding inner peace. This article dives into Krishna’s teachings, showing how we can let go gracefully and live with calm, clarity, and acceptance.
If we came into this world empty-handed and will leave it the same way - why does losing something hurt so deeply?
Why do we mourn what was never truly ours?
A loved one departs. A dream collapses. A possession slips away. And we ache - as if something that belonged to us has been stolen. But the Bhagavad Gita, spoken on a battlefield where loss was everywhere, offers an answer that cuts through illusion.
Krishna’s message to Arjuna was not about avoiding pain, but about understanding it. The Gita does not numb the heart, it clears the fog around it. It teaches that our suffering over loss comes not from the loss itself, but from the illusion of ownership.
We grieve because we forget the truth: nothing here ever truly belonged to us. The first illusion the Gita breaks is that of ownership.
When we say “my family,” “my success,” or “my home,” we tie the eternal soul (Atman) to temporary things. Krishna explains that everything in the material world belongs to Prakriti — nature. It moves, changes, and dissolves according to its own rhythm, not ours.
We are only caretakers, never owners. Even this body — which we call “mine” — is on lease from the universe. The moment we label something as mine, we bind ourselves to its fate.
Krishna’s reminder (2.47) — “You have a right to your actions, but never to the fruits of your actions” — isn’t about abandoning effort. It’s about remembering that results were never ours to keep. The Gita maps the psychology of suffering with surgical precision (2.62–63):
Attachment (raga) is the root. It makes us believe that our happiness depends on something outside us. When that thing changes or leaves, we collapse with it.
True love and true devotion, the Gita says, come not from attachment but from awareness. Love that depends on possession is fragile; love that flows from freedom is eternal. Every form born in time will dissolve in time. That’s not tragedy — that’s law.
Krishna tells Arjuna (2.16):
What is “real”? The Atman - the soul, the consciousness that simply witnesses. Everything else is maya — the play of change.
Our grief arises because we demand permanence in an impermanent world. We want moments to stay. But time does not stop - not for kings, not for lovers, not for gods.
To the wise, loss is not destruction; it is transformation. The leaf that falls becomes soil for the next bloom. Before we lose anything, desire convinces us we don’t have enough. After we lose it, the same desire tells us we’ve lost everything.
In the Gita, Krishna identifies kama (desire) as the seed of all unrest. The soul in its pure state is purnam — complete, full, lacking nothing. But the restless mind forgets this truth and keeps chasing fulfillment through things that fade.
Krishna doesn’t tell us to give up action - he tells us to act without attachment to result. When we act from fullness instead of emptiness, life becomes peaceful. Every action is then a gift, not a gamble. This is perhaps the most liberating truth in all of scripture.
What we call “loss” affects only the surface — the body, the mind, the memories. But the consciousness behind it remains untouched. When we realize we are not the body, not the possessions, not even the emotions — but the observer of them, the pain begins to loosen its grip.
We still feel sadness, but it no longer defines us. The storm passes, and we are still here — unchanged, whole. The Gita’s law of karma reminds us that everything that happens — every rise and every fall — is part of a grand balancing act. Nothing is random.
When we lose something, it’s not fate’s cruelty; it’s life’s correction. Every gain carries responsibility, every loss carries a lesson. What we experience is simply the unfolding of causes set long ago, by us or through us.
Seeing life through karma changes grief into gratitude. We stop asking, “Why me?” and start asking, “What am I meant to learn here?” Detachment (vairagya) is one of the most misunderstood teachings of the Gita. It doesn’t mean to stop caring. It means to care without clinging.
A detached person doesn’t stop loving — they love deeply, but without fear. They do their duty fully, yet without anxiety about outcome. Krishna calls such a person sthita-prajna — one of steady wisdom.
To be detached is to live with open hands — to hold life gently, knowing it will flow as it must.
Why do we mourn what was never truly ours?
A loved one departs. A dream collapses. A possession slips away. And we ache - as if something that belonged to us has been stolen. But the Bhagavad Gita, spoken on a battlefield where loss was everywhere, offers an answer that cuts through illusion.
Krishna’s message to Arjuna was not about avoiding pain, but about understanding it. The Gita does not numb the heart, it clears the fog around it. It teaches that our suffering over loss comes not from the loss itself, but from the illusion of ownership.
We grieve because we forget the truth: nothing here ever truly belonged to us.
1. Possession Exists Only in the Mind
When we say “my family,” “my success,” or “my home,” we tie the eternal soul (Atman) to temporary things. Krishna explains that everything in the material world belongs to Prakriti — nature. It moves, changes, and dissolves according to its own rhythm, not ours.
We are only caretakers, never owners. Even this body — which we call “mine” — is on lease from the universe. The moment we label something as mine, we bind ourselves to its fate.
Krishna’s reminder (2.47) — “You have a right to your actions, but never to the fruits of your actions” — isn’t about abandoning effort. It’s about remembering that results were never ours to keep.
2. Attachment Clouds the Mind
Attachment (raga) is the root. It makes us believe that our happiness depends on something outside us. When that thing changes or leaves, we collapse with it.
True love and true devotion, the Gita says, come not from attachment but from awareness. Love that depends on possession is fragile; love that flows from freedom is eternal.
3. Impermanence Is the Only Constant
Krishna tells Arjuna (2.16):
What is “real”? The Atman - the soul, the consciousness that simply witnesses. Everything else is maya — the play of change.
Our grief arises because we demand permanence in an impermanent world. We want moments to stay. But time does not stop - not for kings, not for lovers, not for gods.
To the wise, loss is not destruction; it is transformation. The leaf that falls becomes soil for the next bloom.
4. Desire Creates the Illusion of Lack
In the Gita, Krishna identifies kama (desire) as the seed of all unrest. The soul in its pure state is purnam — complete, full, lacking nothing. But the restless mind forgets this truth and keeps chasing fulfillment through things that fade.
Krishna doesn’t tell us to give up action - he tells us to act without attachment to result. When we act from fullness instead of emptiness, life becomes peaceful. Every action is then a gift, not a gamble.
5. The Self Cannot Lose Anything
What we call “loss” affects only the surface — the body, the mind, the memories. But the consciousness behind it remains untouched. When we realize we are not the body, not the possessions, not even the emotions — but the observer of them, the pain begins to loosen its grip.
We still feel sadness, but it no longer defines us. The storm passes, and we are still here — unchanged, whole.
6. Karma Balances Every Gain and Loss
When we lose something, it’s not fate’s cruelty; it’s life’s correction. Every gain carries responsibility, every loss carries a lesson. What we experience is simply the unfolding of causes set long ago, by us or through us.
Seeing life through karma changes grief into gratitude. We stop asking, “Why me?” and start asking, “What am I meant to learn here?”
7. Detachment Is Not Coldness
A detached person doesn’t stop loving — they love deeply, but without fear. They do their duty fully, yet without anxiety about outcome. Krishna calls such a person sthita-prajna — one of steady wisdom.
To be detached is to live with open hands — to hold life gently, knowing it will flow as it must.