विवेचन सारांश
Attain Bhagavān through unwavering devotion, immersed in total love & surrender UNTO HIM.
The discourse began with the sacred ritual of lighting the lamp, symbolizing the dispelling of darkness, and offering our heartfelt prayers at the divine lotus feet of Shree Hari, invoking his blessings for wisdom and enlightenment.
We concluded the last session with the 10th verse of the 9th chapter of the Bhagavad Gītā—Rāja-Vidyā-Rāja-Guhya Yoga:
mayādhyakṣeṇa prakṛtiḥ(s) sūyate sacarācaram,
hetunānena kaunteya jagadviparivartate. (9.10)
We reflected on the profound truth of how the universe operates under the divine will, unveiling the ultimate reality of existence. When one perceives this universal truth, they also awaken to the deeper truth within themselves.
Just as Paramātmā governs and nurtures the cosmos, our Parampujya Swamiji selflessly guides and nurtures Geeta Pariwar. Under his divine vision, Pujaniya Guruji stands as a beacon of wisdom, inspiring and fostering the growth of Geeta Pariwar. His relentless dedication to spreading the sacred teachings of the Bhagavad Gītā is a blessing to us all. With deep reverence, we bow to our Guru for his unwavering efforts.
गुरु ब्रह्मा गुरु विष्णु, गुरु देवो महेश्वरा
गुरु साक्षात् परब्रह्म, तस्मै श्री गुरवे नमः
The divine knowledge that Bhagavān imparts in this chapter, and all that we have understood from the 10 shlokas we listened to in the last session, must be revisited once more. True understanding is essential before moving forward; without it, progress holds little meaning.
This is the 9th chapter of the Bhagavad Gītā, positioned at the very heart of its 18 chapters—just as the Bhagavad Gītā itself is placed within the vast epic of the Mahābhārata. If we reflect upon it, this chapter is like a hidden treasure, securely placed within a vault.
The Rāja Vidyā—the King of Knowledge—is carefully nestled at the center, safeguarded like a priceless gem. Mastering this knowledge unlocks all other wisdom. Just as understanding the Bhagavad Gītā eliminates the need to study the Vedas and Upanishads, grasping the essence of the 9th chapter alone reveals the deepest secrets of existence. Such is the beauty, significance, and melodious nature of this divine chapter.
Bhagavān emphasizes the importance of sacrificing karmaphala—the fruits of our actions—so that one does not become entangled in them. True detachment from karmaphala leads to a more focused and stress-free life.
The speaker shared an insightful instance from a conversation with students of Grades 10 and 12. During the discussion, one student revealed that their father had promised them an Apple gadget if they secured the top rank in their class. The speaker explained that when the goal shifts from gaining knowledge to merely achieving a reward, the true essence of learning is lost. The desire to come first at any cost can create immense pressure and anxiety.
It is like a rope being pulled in two opposite directions—tension inevitably builds. Similarly, when the mind is fixated on acquiring the Apple gadget while the intellect is focused on studies, stress and tension naturally arise. This inner conflict is something everyone has experienced at some point in life.
Bhagavān provides a profound solution in the Bhagavad Gītā:
abhyāsa-yogena tato mām ichchhāptuṁ dhanañjaya
Through abhyāsa yoga—constant practice—one can train the mind and intellect to align in the same direction.
mayyarpita-mano-buddhir mām evaiṣhyasyasanśhayam
When both the mind and intellect are dedicated to a higher purpose, one moves forward with clarity and without stress, ensuring success without inner conflict.
The speaker further explained to the student that if he studies only for the sake of getting an Apple gadget, his chances of securing the top rank may diminish. This distraction could lead to shortcuts, and in the pursuit of his reward, he might resort to dishonesty—perhaps even cheating. However, dishonesty inevitably breeds fear, and fear creates stress.
Bhagavān again enlightens us in the Bhagavad Gītā:
abhayaṁ sattva-sanśhuddhir jñāna-yoga-vyavasthitiḥ
Abhaya—fearlessness—is one of the most essential virtues. To be fearless, one must be honest. A child who carries a cheat sheet into the exam hall will be anxious and distracted, unable to perform at his best due to the constant fear of being caught.
The Bhagavad Gītā was narrated by Yogeshwar Śrī Krishna not merely to lead Arjuna onto the path of bhakti (devotion) but to ensure his victory in battle. In the same way, each of us is an Arjuna, and Śrī Krishna desires our success. That is why he has given us Rāja Vidyā—the supreme knowledge—to free us from the endless cycle of karmaphala and guide us toward true fulfillment.
In the 12th Chapter of the Bhagavad Gītā, Bhagavan explains:
anapekṣhaḥ śhuchir dakṣha udāsīno gata-vyathaḥ
sarvārambha-parityāgī yo mad-bhaktaḥ sa me priyaḥ (12.6)
One who is free from attachments, pure, efficient, indifferent to worldly worries, and renounces all endeavors with a focus on me—such a devotee is dear to me.
In this verse, Bhagavān emphasizes that true peace comes from giving up desires, particularly the desire for the karmaphala—the fruits of one's actions. When one relinquishes the expectation of rewards, they achieve manahshanti, or peace of mind.
tyāgāch chhāntir anantaram
Peace follows renunciation. Only through renouncing attachments and expectations can one experience inner tranquility. Who doesn’t desire peace in life? Everyone craves peace. And if you seek peace, you must release your expectations and desires, freeing yourself from the chains of worldly attachments.
Whatever work you do, do not desire the fruits of it. Whatever tasks you are performing in the office, leave the desire for the results there. In fact, while working, you should give up attachment to the outcomes of your actions. Just keep focusing on doing your duty—Karma.
जैसे कर्म करेगा, वैसे फल देगा भगवान।
Renouncing the desire for the results does not mean you will not receive them. If you plant a mango seed, you will get a mango tree. Similarly, if you sow the seeds of Babul (Acacia), a Babul tree will grow, and its thorns will certainly pierce you.
This story illustrates the consequences of being fixated on the fruits of our actions. A group of monkeys ventured into a mango garden to pluck fruit, but the gardener chased them away with a stick. They returned to the riverside, complaining about their misfortune. One wise old monkey suggested, "Instead of stealing, we should plant our own mango garden." The monkeys agreed and gathered seeds, planting them with great effort, using coconut shells to carry water.
After eight days, no germination had occurred, so the monkeys dug up the seeds, worried they had done something wrong. The wise monkey asked them what they had done and explained that the seeds needed time to grow. He advised them to replant the seeds, and they did so. Another week passed, but still no growth, and the monkeys dug up the seeds again. This cycle continued, week after week, eventually damaging the seeds beyond repair. Frustrated, the monkeys resorted to stealing mangoes from the garden again, only to be beaten by the gardener each time.
The story reveals how desires, fueled by constant expectations, can lead to frustration and failure. Just as the monkeys' desire for the mangoes led them to dig up the seeds repeatedly, constantly focusing on the outcome of our actions can cause disappointment and hinder progress. This is why in Chapter Raja Vidya, Śrī Hari advises us to renounce expectations. When we focus solely on the results of our efforts, we create the conditions for sadness. Let go of the attachment to outcomes, and our peace will follow.
We often say, "My son didn’t do this for me," or "My daughter-in-law didn’t do that for me." But why should they? If we have expectations and they don’t meet them, it only leads to disappointment. However, when we let go of those expectations, and they act on their own out of love or care, it brings true happiness. Bhagavān teaches us to renounce expectations. When we stop expecting from others, we create space for genuine joy, regardless of the outcome.
Bhagavān continues to elaborate on Raja Vidya, the supreme knowledge, further revealing its deeper aspects.
9.11
avajānanti māṃ(m) mūḍhā, mānuṣīṃ(n) tanumāśritam,
paraṃ(m) bhāvamajānanto, mama bhūtamaheśvaram. 9.11
This is natural—being human, we grasp concepts in the ways most familiar to us. Giving Bhagavān a tangible form is often the first step in our spiritual journey. However, as we progress, we must expand our understanding. We need to move beyond form and recognize the true essence of the Supreme Divine—one that transcends physical shape and human-like attributes.
Imagine you are traveling to Mumbai by bus, and along the way, you pass through Lonavala, a beautiful place that captivates you. Enchanted by its beauty, you decide to make the bus your destination instead of Mumbai. But in doing so, you forget that the bus was merely a means to reach your true goal.
Similarly, if we mistake the tangible form of Bhagavān for the Paramatman (the Supreme Soul), we deceive ourselves. Idol worship is a path—a medium to connect with the divine—but it is not the ultimate destination. Just as one must eventually leave the bus to reach Mumbai, we must transcend external forms to realize the infinite and formless essence of Bhagavān.
The journey is important, but the realization of the ultimate truth lies beyond the mode of travel.
We have seen beautiful idols of our Śrī Hari with peacock feathers in his crown, beautiful blue toned skin, with anklets that make the sweetest sound. We become so attached to the idol, that we concentrate on just decorating it. We forget it is a medium and not the ultimate goal.
We have studied the 14th Chapter and understand the importance of realizing Parmeshwar.
"ahaṁ bīja-pradaḥ pitā"
(I am the seed-giving Father.)
Bhagavān Himself declares that He is the source of all creation. Yet, caught in delusion, we fail to truly understand Him. We often limit Him to a human-like form, believing He has two hands and two legs. Even Arjuna once shared this misconception. But Bhagavān, in His divine grace, began guiding him toward the ultimate realization.
In the 10th Chapter, Prabhu reveals His divine glories, and in the 11th Chapter, He manifests His Vishweshwar Roop—His vast, all-encompassing cosmic form. At that moment, Arjuna stands on the brink of realization—just one leap of faith away from the ultimate truth. Yogeshwar Krishna orchestrates this divine act, leading Arjuna toward the supreme goal.
Some people become so deeply attached to idol worship that they fail to realize the idol is not Paramātmā itself—it is merely a medium. For instance, some devotees love the form of Murli Manohar so much that they struggle to accept His Govardhan form, even though both are manifestations of the same divine essence.
A great saint, Shree Swami Samarth, is revered by many. Yet, among his devotees, there are two sects—one worships his standing idol, while the other worships his seated idol. They become so entangled in these external details that they forget the greater truth—that it is the same Swami Samarth. Is it even possible that he stood all his life without ever sitting? Of course not! Yet, we let our minds get caught up in such illusions.
To some extent, it is true that we cannot sail in two boats at once. But a person who has truly understood the destination faces no such dilemmas. For him, whether you call God Krishna or Ram, Ram or Shyam, it makes no difference—because he sees beyond the form and recognizes the one divine essence in all.
For example, when a person suffers from jaundice, they perceive everything as yellow. But does that mean the world itself is yellow? No. Similarly, when someone has a fever, everything tastes bitter—even milk. But does that mean the milk itself has turned bitter? No. The flaw lies in perception, not in reality.
In the same way, Bhagavān urges us not to see through the lens of our limited understanding but to strive to realize His Supreme Form.
If one drinks kanji (rice porridge), how can they expect the benefits of amrut (nectar)? Likewise, if someone is walking east, how can they hope to reach the west? It is simply not possible. Similarly, if we remain trapped in superficial understanding, we cannot grasp the divine truth. Bhagavān calls upon us to recognize His Supreme Form.
- "avajānanti māṃ mūḍhā, mānuṣīṃ tanumāśritam" – A dim-witted person,
- "paraṃ bhāvam ajānanto" – does not understand My Supreme nature.
Idol worship is a means, but it is not the ultimate goal. Some people, upon following a particular sect, believe visiting other temples is sinful. This mindset is incorrect. Worshiping Bhagavān Krishna does not mean one should not visit a Bhagavān Shiva's temple. Bhagavān is not confined to a single form or place—He pervades the entire universe. We experience His presence in every moment. True devotion lies in recognizing this all-encompassing divinity.
moghāśā moghakarmāṇo, moghajñānā vicetasaḥ,
rākṣasīmāsurīṃ(ñ) caiva, prakṛtiṃ(m) mohinīṃ(m) śritāḥ. 9.12
People burdened with unnecessary desires, meaningless actions, and superficial knowledge remain trapped in their own ways, unwilling to change. Their minds are restless, and their lives are wasted in illusion.
For instance, a musk deer chases a mirage, believing it to be real, yet it never finds water because it is only an illusion. Just as one cannot ride a horse made of clay, a deluded person, blinded by illusion, fails to perceive the Supreme Truth.
It is fine to worship an idol, but one must understand that idol worship is a means, not the ultimate goal. True realization comes when one moves beyond the external and seeks the divine essence.
Consider Arjuna—at the beginning of the Bhagavad Gītā, he was consumed by attachment, thinking in terms of "mine, my brother, my uncle." Gradually, as he surrendered to Bhagavān Krishna’s wisdom, his perspective evolved from "me and mine" to "you and yours." However, his personal identity still lingered, which is why his questions continued. To truly attain Bhagavān, one must completely let go of ego and self-identity.
A deluded person, blinded by illusion, cannot comprehend the Divine Form. Bhagavān exists in both the constant and variable aspects of nature.
During a discourse on the 12th chapter of the Gītā, the speaker narrated a story about Swami Sharananandji Maharaj, who awakened divinity even in a stone—demonstrating that divinity pervades both living and non-living things.
The speaker also recalled an incident from his own life. While planning a hostel for their college, he noticed an almond tree on the site. He requested the architect to adjust the building plan, and the tree was preserved. Years later, when the college expanded, a parapet wall was demolished. A young student, unaware of this, went to dry her clothes on the wall and accidentally fell from the second floor. Miraculously, she landed on the almond tree’s branches, which, like a natural staircase, broke her fall.
At that moment, a bhajan (hymn) ceremony was taking place in the college. When the speaker heard the news, he rushed to the site with a doctor. After examining the girl, the doctor confirmed that she was completely unharmed. Overwhelmed with gratitude, the speaker thanked Bhagavān for His divine grace in saving her life.
This incident reaffirms that the Divine presence is everywhere—guiding, protecting, and manifesting in both living beings and nature itself.
Another instance the speaker recalls is about a Jamun (black plum) tree in his garden. As the fruits would fall, they would spoil the garden and attract bees. His mother insisted that the tree be cut down to avoid the mess.
However, the speaker, believing that trees are Harit—imbued with both Hari and Har (representing Shri Hari and Bhagavān Shiva)—was unwilling to remove it. Instead, he assured his mother that he would find a solution. He set up a net beneath the tree to collect the fallen Jamuns, ensuring they could enjoy the fruit without it creating a nuisance.
One day, while strolling in the garden, his mother suddenly felt dizzy and lost consciousness. As she stumbled, she instinctively reached out and took support of the very tree she once wanted to cut. The tree prevented her from falling.
At that moment, the speaker gently reminded her that the tree she wanted to remove had, in turn, protected her. This incident reaffirmed a simple yet profound truth—when we take care of nature, nature takes care of us.
mayadhyaksena prakrtih suyate sa-caracaram
Paramatma is present in this entire nature.
mahātmānastu māṃ(m) pārtha, daivīṃ(m) prakṛtimāśritāḥ,
bhajantyananyamanaso, jñātvā bhūtādimavyayam. 9.13
We, too, must strive to cultivate this divine nature.
There is a story of a shopkeeper who carried food to his shop every day. At mealtime, he noticed that a dog would always come and sit in front of him. Over time, it became a habit for the shopkeeper to feed the dog before eating his own meal.
One morning, when he arrived at his shop, he found the lock broken and suspected a theft. However, upon opening the shop, he was surprised to see that nothing had been stolen. When he checked the security camera, he saw that thieves had indeed come with the intention of stealing and had even broken the lock. But before they could enter, the dog arrived and barked incessantly, scaring them away.
The love and kindness the shopkeeper had shown to the dog came back to protect him in return.
Whatever you give, you receive manifold.
"Tum ek paisa doge, wo dus laakh dega."
(If you give one penny, He will return ten million.)
Similarly, Arjuna was listening to Bhagavān’s words and agreeing with them, but he still struggled to truly believe. We often accept things when we hear them, but we only develop unshakable faith when we see them. Until this point, Arjuna had only listened to Bhagavān's teachings, but Śrī Krishna was his friend—the one he played with, wandered in the forests with, and always saw as an equal.
Though Arjuna was beginning to accept Śrī Krishna’s words, he had yet to fully realize His divine nature. Bhagavān now seeks to reveal His supreme form so that Arjuna may know Him—not just as a friend, but as the Supreme Being.
satataṃ(ṅ) kīrtayanto māṃ(y̐), yatantaśca dṛḍhavratāḥ,
namasyantaśca māṃ(m) bhaktyā, nityayuktā upāsate.9.14
jñānayajñena cāpyanye, yajanto māmupāsate,
ekatvena pṛthaktvena, bahudhā viśvatomukham. 9.15
Meera Bai beautifully expressed this devotion in her bhajan:
Acquiring the divine is not a transaction; it requires complete self-sacrifice and total surrender.
Meera Bai’s unwavering devotion was so profound that even poison sent to harm her had no effect:
विस का प्याला राणा भेज्या, पीवत मीरां हांसी
Her devotion was so deep that nothing could harm her. True devotion transforms us from within, making us impervious to worldly harm.
Similarly, consider the devotion of Shabari. From childhood to old age, she remained steadfast in her love for Bhagavān Ram. Every moment, she anticipated His arrival, sometimes even imagining His presence. When He finally came, she was overwhelmed, tears streaming down her face.
This level of devotion demands absolute focus. When we sit in prayer, our minds should not wander—even a mobile phone beep should not distract us. We should worship with unwavering concentration, with nothing standing between us and the Divine.
However, humans often turn to Bhagavān only in times of need, attempting to bargain: "I will do this if You fulfill my desire." True devotion, however, is selfless. We must approach HIM with gratitude, recognizing that He has already given us more than we deserve. When we fold our hands in Namaskar, it is not just a gesture; it signifies opening our hearts to the Divine, asking Him to do the same, and uniting our hearts with the Divine. In that moment, no desires remain—only pure love.
If we take one step towards HIM, He takes ten steps toward us. Bhagavān Ram did not descend to Earth merely to defeat Ravana; He could have sent someone else for that. Instead, He came for His devotees—Shabari, Ahilya, and many others. The Supreme Divine always comes for His devotees.
The Pagal Baba Temple in Vrindavan has an intriguing backstory. The name might seem unusual, but it stems from an incident involving a judge from Kerala.
One day, the judge was presiding over a case between a boatman and a lender. The boatman, known for his innocence, had borrowed money from the lender for his daughter's wedding. The boatman was so honest that when people traveled on his boat and asked about the fare, he would innocently reply, "Mein kya janu, Ragunath ji jane," meaning, "I don't know, only Ragunath ji knows." People would pay him whatever they felt was fair, and he would accept it gratefully.
Although the boatman had repaid the lender, the lender, aware of the boatman's simplicity, decided to deceive him by hiding the receipt of payment. When the case was presented in court, the boatman confirmed that he had borrowed money and had repaid it, but he was unable to produce proof of repayment. The judge asked the boatman if he had any evidence, and the boatmen presented the receipt. However, upon reading it, the judge saw it only mentioned the loan and not the repayment. The illiterate boatman again replied, “Mein kya janu Ragunath ji jane,” which led the judge to ask who Ragunath ji was. The boatman explained that Ragunath ji lived in the temple in his village.
Curious, the judge sent a summons to Ragunath ji. When the priest of the temple received the summons, he placed it at the feet of the idol, saying, "You decide what should be done."
In the next hearing, an elderly man draped in yellow arrived. He had a divine glow on his face. When questioned, the old man confirmed that he had witnessed the boatman repaying the loan. He further revealed that the lender had hidden the receipt in account book number 22. The judge sent his men to check the book, and they found the receipt in the exact place the old man had mentioned.
The lender, ashamed of his deceit, asked how the elderly man knew about the hidden receipt, when was not present their. But the old man had already disappeared. The judge, intrigued, followed his curiosity to the temple and asked the priest where Ragunath ji was. The priest pointed to the idol of Ragunath ji, which was draped in the same clothes as the elderly man.
Overcome with regret and realization, the judge was stunned that he had failed to recognize the divine presence. In his remorse, he vowed to stand in front of the temple every day, praying for forgiveness, and said, "I will stand and pray, while you remain seated inside." From then on, people began to refer to him as "Pagal Baba," meaning the "Mad Baba," because of his unwavering devotion. The name stuck, and the temple became famously known as the Pagal Baba Temple. Though the story behind the name was revealed later, the temple continues to be a place of reverence for many.
Pagal Baba, like Dhruva, devotedly prayed with unwavering faith. You might now wonder—who was Dhruva? His story is one of deep devotion and determination.
Once, there was a young boy named Dhruva who longed for his father's love and attention. One day, as he sat on his father's lap, his stepmother pulled him away, denying him the affection he sought. Hurt and confused, Dhruva ran to his mother, Suniti, and asked, “Where can I find a place where no one will ever pull me away?”
Suniti, wise and loving, replied, “Only in the embrace of Shri Hari’s love will no one ever push you away.”
Encouraged and filled with confidence, Dhruva set out to the forest, determined to seek Śrī Hari. With folded hands, he stood in deep prayer. Seeing this, Narad Muni appeared and tested his resolve, saying, “You will not attain Śrī Hari like this.” Undeterred, Dhruva intensified his devotion, standing on one leg in Vrikshasana, continuing his prayers.
Still, Śrī Hari did not appear. Determined, Dhruva gave up food, surviving only on leaves and water. Yet, when the Supreme Divine did not come, he abandoned water as well, then even leaves, ultimately holding his breath in complete surrender.
Pleased with his unwavering faith, Śrī Hari finally appeared before Dhruva and blessed him. As a testament to his devotion, Śrī Hari granted him an eternal place in the sky, naming the Pole Star after him—the Dhruva Tara.
This story teaches that true and sincere devotion will always lead one to HIM. Those who dedicate themselves wholeheartedly, like Dhruva and Pagal Baba, will ultimately be embraced by the divine.
ahaṃ(ṅ) kraturahaṃ(y̐) yajñaḥ(s), svadhāhamahamauṣadham,
mantro'hamahamevājyam, ahamagnirahaṃ(m) hutam.9.16
pitāhamasya jagato, mātā dhātā pitāmahaḥ,
vedyaṃ(m) pavitramoṅkāra, ṛksāma yajureva ca. 9.17
gatirbhartā prabhuḥ(s) sākṣī, nivāsaḥ(ś) śaraṇaṃ suhṛt,
prabhavaḥ(ph) pralayaḥ(s) sthānaṃ(n), nidhānaṃ(m) bījamavyayam. 9.18
tapāmyahamahaṃ(v̐) varṣaṃ(n), nigṛhṇāmyutsṛjāmi ca,
amṛtaṃ(ñ) caiva mṛtyuśca, sadasaccāhamarjuna.9.19
These four verses collectively emphasize Bhagavān's request to Arjuna to recognize His universal form. The Lord declares Himself as the creator, sustainer, and ultimate power of the universe, urging humanity to understand His true essence.
As humans, we have depicted HIM in different forms based on our understanding and convenience. However, in reality, all these forms are but manifestations of the same divine presence. The idol of Dattatreya beautifully symbolizes this concept, representing Brahmā ji (the creator), Bhagavān Vishnu (the preserver), and Bhagavān Shiva (the destroyer) in a unified form.
Bhagavān is not separate from us—He exists within every breath we take. If we listen closely, we can hear the rhythmic sound of our inhalation as Ko Hum, Ko Hum and our exhalation as So Hum, So Hum—a divine dialogue within us. For centuries, people have sought God externally, but how can we find Him outside when He resides within us?
The sacred mantra Soham reflects this truth. The word itself holds a profound meaning: If we remove the consonant ‘S’ from Soham and the ‘H’ from Aham, we are left with the primordial sound Om—the ultimate reality.
To realize this divine presence, we must engage in Sādhanā (spiritual practice). This journey begins with Asana (postures) and the principles of Yama and Niyama. Yama means renunciation—letting go of impurity, while Niyama means discipline—embracing purity. Just as we align our body in discipline, we must also align our entire life force in harmony with divine consciousness.
Through such dedicated practice, we can transcend worldly illusions and experience the divine within.
traividyā māṃ(m) somapāḥ(ph) pūtapāpā,
yajñairiṣṭvā svargatiṃ(m) prārthayante,
te puṇyamāsādya surendralokam,
aśnanti divyāndivi devabhogān. 9.20
te taṃ(m) bhuktvā svargalokaṃ(v̐) viśālaṃ(ṅ),
kṣīṇe puṇye martyalokaṃ(v̐) viśanti,
evaṃ(n) trayīdharmamanuprapannā,
gatāgataṃ(ṅ) kāmakāmā labhante.9.21
One of my friends called me and said, “I have reasons to drink.” He justified it by referring to the idea that those who drink Som Rasa attain heaven due to their virtue. This argument is often raised by citing certain shlokas from the scriptures.
We will reflect on the answer to this question in our next discussion. Until then, let us continue our practice of Dhyana, contemplating the question "Koham?" (Who am I?) and discovering the answer "Soham." (I am That).
The next shloka explains that those who accumulate Punya (virtue) may enjoy the pleasures of Swargloka, but once their merits are exhausted, they are sent back to Mrityuloka (the mortal realm). Just like a football being tossed from one realm to another, the cycle of birth and death continues.
This endless cycle of rebirth must be transcended. But how? Bhagavān has provided the solution, which we will explore in our next discourse.
Question & Answer
Jigna Ji:
Question: Now, we say that God is one. Then why do different religions have different rituals after death?
Answer: Our Rishi-Munis were highly knowledgeable and well-versed in the truths of existence. Their teachings are not merely beliefs but are deeply rooted in science and wisdom. While I may not be aware of the rituals in other religions, the practices of Sanatana Dharma are based on the profound scientific understanding and vast knowledge of the sages.
M.B. Kaushik:
Question: The fourth and fifth verses of Chapter 9 seem to contradict each other.
Answer: Bhagavān says that He pervades everything in His unmanifest form (avyakta-mūrtinā), meaning His divine presence is everywhere but not physically visible. Although all beings exist in Him, He is not within them in a material sense.
A simple analogy can explain this:
Just as Ratan Tata owns Tata Salt but is not physically involved in packing the salt, the Divine Supreme oversees everything but is not directly engaged in every activity. His presence sustains all, yet He remains beyond it.
The discourse concluded with a prayer.
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