विवेचन सारांश

Daivī Sampad: The Path to Liberation and the Great Inner Divide

At the beginning of this profound chapter, one might wonder: why didn’t the speaker elaborate on each verse individually? Instead, she chose to recite the first three verses together. That is because these three ślokas are immensely significant. In them, Bhagavān describes the Daivī Sampatti, the divine qualities, which amount to 26 in number. These virtues are not merely ornamental; they are foundational to inner evolution.

Life, after all, is a journey of cultivating guṇa-grahatā, the receptivity to noble qualities. This is the essence of the Gītā’s teaching.

As Sant Rāmdās Swāmī beautifully says:

"By practicing noble virtues, one becomes a true servant of the Lord. O mind, absorb the qualities of Raghunātha (Śrī Rāma)."

In fact, it is said in the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa:

Śrī Rāma is the very embodiment of Dharma.

Here, Dharma does not refer to religious identities like Hindu, Muslim, Sikh, or Christian. These are upāsanā paddhatis, paths of worship. But Dharma is far more universal.

Derived from "Dhārayate iti Dharmaḥ"—that which upholds, sustains, and protects humanity, is true Dharma.

In the context of the Gītā, Dharma is also synonymous with kartavya—one’s duty, the rightful action one is born to perform. Thus, to sit in Arjunaācī paṅktī—Arjuna’s row—one must be prepared to internalize these 26 daivī guṇas.

And what is the first of these?

• Abhayam—Fearlessness.

This is the prathama guṇa, the leading virtue. It could have been translated as nirbhaya, but abhaya has a deeper spiritual connotation.
Nirbhaya means "I fear no one."
Abhaya, however, means "Neither do I fear anyone, nor does anyone fear me." It is mutual, all-encompassing fearlessness. It is a state of perfect harmlessness and spiritual harmony.

Āchārya Vinobā Bhāve once said,
“Abhay is the senāpati, the commander of all other sadguṇas. If this enters your life, all other virtues follow.”

Indeed, Abhayam is both the foundation and the fruit of spiritual evolution. To reach paramārtha—the highest truth, this virtue is indispensable.

A beautiful illustration of this is found in the life of Sant Tukārām Mahārāj. A saint-poet of Maharashtra, he would climb a small hillock called Bhaṇḍārā for his daily sādhanā. In the early days, birds like sparrows and crows would fly away as he approached. This troubled him deeply. He saw it as a sign that his sādhanā was still incomplete—that he had not yet become one with nature.

But as his sādhanā deepened, he would sit there immersed in the name of Viṭṭhala, Viṭṭhala... and soon the birds not only stayed, they perched gently upon his body. He accepted this as the ultimate test: the world no longer feared him, for he had merged into the cosmic rhythm. This was Abhayam.

Each of these 26 daivī guṇas is extraordinary. Even a single virtue, if contemplated upon and sincerely practiced, has the power to transform a life.
But why is the world so deeply afflicted with bhaya (fear)?

Because every attainment in this world comes with an inherent fear of loss.

Even when praised, there is fear of future criticism. Even guṇas invite the envy of the wicked. Thus, this creation is fundamentally afflicted by fear.

We saw this clearly during the pandemic, or in times of war and uncertainty. Gurudev often quoted a powerful śloka that summarises this truth:

"Enjoyment brings the fear of disease, noble lineage the fear of disgrace.
Wealth is haunted by the fear of rulers or thieves, knowledge by the fear of debate.
Virtue fears the wicked, beauty fears age, honour fears insult.
Strength fears rivalries, and the body fears death.
Everything in this world is pervaded by fear.
Only vairāgya (dispassion and surrender to the Divine) brings true Abhaya (fearlessness)."

Hence, true fearlessness is found only at the feet of Viṣṇu, Viṣṇu-padam Abhayam.

So when Bhagavān begins the list of daivī guṇas with Abhayam, He is showing us the gateway to liberation. It is the signpost that one has truly begun to rise into paramārthika jīvana—a life rooted in the Divine.

• “Satva-saṁśuddhi” – Inner Purification and the Importance of Chitta Śuddhi

Bhagavān later mentions one of the twenty-six divine virtues: "satva-saṁśuddhiḥ", which translates to “purity of being” or more specifically, "purification of the inner instrument (antaḥkaraṇa)".

Now, what is meant by satva here? In this context, satva refers not to the guṇa (sattva–rajas–tamas) but rather to the citta – the subtle inner faculty of consciousness.

The antaḥkaraṇa catuṣṭaya—the fourfold inner instrument, comprises:

When thoughts arise and deliberations occur, that functioning is called manas. When decisions are made, it is known as buddhi. Citta is akin to the subconscious mind; it stores all saṁskāras (deep impressions) from many lifetimes. And thus, the purification of citta is of utmost importance, as it is the citta that governs our reactions and responses in life.

Western psychologists like Freud struggled to understand why humans are driven to commit wrongs, but the Bhāratīya-śāstras assert that it is the stored saṁskāras and predispositions in the citta that create our tendencies. If someone had once insulted a person, and that person reappears, the mind spontaneously generates a wave of negativity based on stored impressions. If someone belongs to our own community or is related, the citta immediately prompts favorable thoughts, even if the decision should be impartial.

For example, suppose someone works in the electricity department and is responsible for assigning a transformer. If their citta harbors bias, be it caste, region, or community, they might decide in favor based not on merit, but on partiality. This is the impurity (mala) of citta—it is full of prejudices, divisions, and egoistic preferences.

Therefore, Bhagavān speaks of “satva-saṁśuddhi” – the total purification of the inner being. Saints and sages, even till the end of their lives, strive to refine their inner instruments. They are aware that worldly interactions leave impressions—layers of subtle impurities—and they keep cleansing the mind through japa, contemplation, service, and introspection.

Sant Jñāneśvar Mahārāj gives a beautiful metaphor:

“O wandering bee (bhramara), leave behind your faults and abandon your restless roaming amidst worldly pleasures! Go instead to the lotus feet of Bhagavān and drink the nectar there—then alone will you become steady and pure.”

The mind is like a bee, constantly flitting from one sensory object to another. But it must be drawn towards Bhagavān’s caraṇa-kamala, only then does the bhakta become niśchala (steadfast), and the impurities are burnt away.

Therefore, to become like Arjuna, as Gurudev often says, one must engage in continuous ātma-cintana (self-reflection), regularly identify and uproot durguṇas (negative tendencies), and cultivate ātma-niyantraṇa (self-discipline).

For example, U.S. President Franklin D. Roosevelt is known to have maintained a personal list of virtues. Each morning, he would choose one to focus on, like punctuality or discipline, and in the evening, he would introspect: To what extent did I live this value today? 80%? 50%? That became his sādhana.

Similarly, our saints were guṇagrāhī—seekers and cultivators of noble virtues. They were constantly examining their own inner states.

Kabīr jī echoes this spirit of self-inquiry:

“I went looking for the wicked, but found none; when I looked within myself, I discovered none more wicked than me.”

Thus, satva-saṁśuddhi—the cleansing of the inner instrument, is an essential sādhana for a spiritual aspirant. Without it, even the most exalted wisdom cannot fully bear fruit. It is only through the purity of citta that the light of jñāna can shine undistorted.

• Now comes the third quality described by Bhagavān: "jñāna-yoga-vyavasthitiḥ" — the well-established state of knowledge and yoga.

Here, two key aspects are highlighted — jñāna (theoretical knowledge) and yoga (practical application). The inner instrument, or antaḥkaraṇa, consists of four parts: manaḥ (mind), buddhi (intellect), citta (storehouse of impressions), and ahaṅkāra (ego). These are not separate, but compartments of the same inner mechanism. When the mind deliberates, it is manaḥ. When it decides, it is buddhi. When it stores impressions, it is citta, much like the subconscious. And when it identifies as “I,” it becomes ahaṅkāra.

The Gītā is called Brahmavidyāyām Yogaśāstre Śrīkṛṣṇa Arjuna Saṁvāda — a dialogue between Śrī Kṛṣṇa and Arjuna on Brahma-vidyā (the supreme knowledge) and Yoga (its practical embodiment). Jñāna is like the theory, and yoga is its experiential, practical side.

As Gurudev puts it:

("Read the Gītā, teach the Gītā, but most importantly, live the Gītā.")

Through continuous practice of virtues, one’s vices begin to diminish, and sattvic qualities take root. But Ramdas Swāmī warns of a subtle danger:

("Among all vices, the greatest is when our vices begin to feel like virtues.")For example, one may say, “I can’t get up early,” or “Yoga isn’t for me,” or “I just can’t manage to read the Gītā.” When excuses become comfort zones, our tamas begins to masquerade as nature.

Gurudev explains: qualities are infectious. A person with good qualities, if constantly in the company of the wicked, may begin to absorb their traits. Similarly, even someone fallen into vice, when placed in good company (satsanga), begins to transform.

The manaḥ functions like a transformer,  in electrical engineering terms. Through induction, one coil can influence another without direct connection. Likewise, the mind absorbs the qualities of the company it keeps.

That is why satsanga (noble company) is so important. In the Gītā Pariwār, the environment is such that everyone is walking the path of inner refinement. By simply staying in such a group, one’s consciousness begins to elevate.

However, Gurudev also remarks:

“Jñāna has become cheap, yoga has become expensive.”

Today, knowledge is easily accessible on WhatsApp, YouTube, and social media. But true yoga, meaning mental concentration and disciplined application, is rare. Yoga also means ekāgratā — single-pointed focus.

Think of Arjuna: even on the battlefield, he listens intently to Kṛṣṇa's discourse. Gurudev shares stories of Arjuna’s qualities. Once, when Dronācārya asked all his students if they would be ready to give any guru-dakṣiṇā he demanded after training, only Arjuna stood up, boldly declaring his commitment. That dedication is what led Dronācārya to bless Arjuna with unparalleled mastery.

Even Sant Jñāneśvar says:

(“May I become a soul who praises Arjuna — such a life I deeply cherish.”)

Why did the Bhagavan love Arjuna? Because of his guṇagrāhitā — his ability to absorb and embody virtues. To become worthy of divine love, one must first become like Arjuna.
After jñāna-yoga-vyavasthitiḥ, the Gītā mentions dānam, the spirit of giving.

In Chapter 17, this will be elaborated upon as sāttvika, rājasika, and tāmasika dāna,  but Gurudev emphasizes:
True dāna is samavibhāga — sharing what we have, without a sense of superiority.

Whether it’s wealth, knowledge, time, or labor, dāna is the act of selfless sharing. In the Gītā Pariwār, some offer their time, some offer knowledge, some even offer physical labor. Every contribution, when done in humility and surrender, becomes sacred.

As Goswami Tulsidas beautifully puts it:

("Give in such a way that the giver lowers their gaze in humility, even as their hand rises to give.")

Why? Because the true giver is not the individual,  but the Divine.

("The real giver is someone else, who gives day and night; people mistake me for the giver, and that is why I lower my eyes in humility.")

The humility of a true giver comes from knowing that whatever one has — intelligence, time, strength, resources — is simply a gift of the Divine.

In the verse, the words dānam, damaḥ, and yajñaḥ appear. Let us focus on the word "dama", which means restraint or control. Specifically, two things are implied here: restraint of the senses (indriya-damana) and tranquillity of the mind (manaḥ-śamana).

Our senses, eyes, ears, nose, skin, and tongue are naturally outward-facing. They are the pañca-jñānendriyas (five cognitive senses), and they continuously feed the mind with sensory input. As a result, the mind too gets distracted and carried away along with them.

Let’s take a simple example. Suppose a student is preparing for exams, but it is also IPL season. If his eyes are glued to the screen, his ears tuned to the commentary, and his mind completely absorbed in the game, then where is the room for study? The senses pull the mind outward, and together they wander. Hence, sense restraint (damaḥ) is emphasised. One must learn to regulate the senses, to rein them in. Simultaneously, the mind must be calmed—that is śamaḥ, or tranquillity.

These two—śama (mind-control) and dama (sense-control) are qualities of sattva, or in the language of the Gītā, they are part of the daivī-sampat (divine virtues).

Now let’s explore "yajñaḥ"—a deeply significant term. If we begin unpacking each word, we will see how they guide us toward spiritual elevation. The essential meaning of yajña is self-offering or sacrifice, and above all, the spirit of dedication.

Take, for instance, a Bhagavad Gītā study circle or satsang, which we often call a Mahāyajña. Everyone involved is offering something—some skill, some time, some energy. One may anchor the session, another may handle the technology, someone else may teach or read aloud, and someone may chant or offer commentary. Every little role offered with devotion becomes a part of this collective sacrifice. This is teamwork as yajña.

We often hear the phrase:
TEAM = Together Everyone Achieves More.

Indeed, when we work together in a spirit of offering, the benefit multiplies, and everyone progresses. This is the true meaning of yajña—a cooperative, sacred act of dedication that benefits all.

Then there are also the more traditional Vedic yajñas—fire sacrifices offered to deities. In these, oblations (āhutis) are offered into the sacred fire, invoking various devatās by chanting svāhā or svadhā—for the gods and for the ancestors respectively. These yajñas too, when performed with the right attitude, are part of that same spirit of offering.
Now, after dāna, dama, yajña, the next word is svādhyāyaḥ—self-study or scriptural study.

Look around, no one is forcing us to do this. This is not a school exam; there are no marks being awarded. Yet here we are, engaging in self-chosen learning. There is a difference between reading, studying, and svādhyāya:

Through daily recitation, reflection, japa, or structured study, like those participating in Gītā exams, patha-pāṭhakas, padhik programs, or Gītā smṛti competitions, the mind is gradually purified. Our inner defects don’t vanish overnight, but their intensity and frequency start reducing. This is the quiet, transformative work of svādhyāya.

Thus, dānam, damaḥ, yajñaḥ, svādhyāyaḥ, each is a powerful discipline. When performed with sincerity, they cleanse the heart and guide us to a higher, more luminous way of living.

Now, this word "tapaḥ" (austerity or self-discipline) is extremely important and dear to the Bhagavad Gītā. In fact, "tapaḥ" is one of the Gītā’s cherished and recurring themes. It is said that Brahmājī, the creator of the universe, first heard this very word  "tapaḥ, tapaḥ iti"  directly from the Supreme, instructing him to perform austerity before initiating creation.

In the Mahābhārata, when the Yakṣa posed a hundred profound questions to Yudhiṣṭhira, one of them was: “What is tapas?” Yudhiṣṭhira replied:

• “Tapaḥ svadharma vartitvam” — True austerity is to live according to one’s own svadharma (righteous duty).

Whatever hardships we undergo in fulfilling our svadharma, whether as a parent raising a child, or as a worker performing one’s duty honestly,  that itself is a form of tapas.
To refine life through discipline, to burn away impurities, to temper the soul like gold in fire, that is the significance of tapas.

In the 17th chapter of the Gītā, Śrī Kṛṣṇa elaborates on three types of tapas, kāyika (of the body), vācika (of speech), and mānasika (of the mind). But one virtue closely related and exceptionally important is ārjavam — straightforwardness, simplicity, and integrity.

• Ārjavam is the opposite of duplicity. The straighter our life is, the more we become like Arjuna.

The very name “Arjuna” stems from the root ṛju, meaning straight, sincere, and pure-hearted. That is why Bhagavān addresses him as Anagha,  O sinless one! Arjuna's heart is pure, free from deceit. He is maitrīcitta-kaḍā, full of friendly and loving sentiment. His devotion is childlike and guileless.

Sant Jñāneśvar Mahārāj offers a beautiful description of Arjuna:

“You are pure-hearted, endowed with noble understanding and right conduct, single-pointed in goal, and content even in secret matters.”

Arjuna does not indulge in nindā (criticism of others), which is considered a grave flaw. For when we slander others, those very faults silently seep into our own character.

This is why ārjavam, simplicity, is so essential. When a person lives crookedly, telling lies or engaging in false behaviour, they constantly need to remember: “What did I say to whom? What did I cover up?” But if we simply live in truth, with transparency, there is nothing to remember or fear.

Thus, Arjuna is truthful, pure-hearted, and straightforward, a true embodiment of ārjavam.

• Now here comes a very important word, Ahiṁsā (non-violence).

But this ahiṁsā must not be understood in a narrow or superficial sense. Non-violence is not merely the absence of physical harm. Violence can take place at three levels:

All three are considered forms of hiṁsā (violence).

But here, ahiṁsā must not be restricted to just avoiding these three. Gurudev cautions us that the extreme interpretation of ahiṁsā has made noble people weak and inactive. Society taught us only to endure, to tolerate everything silently. But in real life, one must stand up against injustice when needed.

If we want to truly understand the Bhagavad Gītā's concept of ahiṁsā, Gurudev says we must look at it through the light of Bhagavān Śrī Kṛṣṇa’s life, the context of Mahābhārata, and Arjuna’s own inner struggle.

If ahiṁsā only meant avoiding harm in thought, word, or deed, then Bhagavān would have simply told Arjuna to leave the battlefield, go to the Himalayas or sit by the banks of the Gaṅgā, and perform austerities. But He doesn’t.

Instead, He says:

“Yuddhe chāpyaparityāgaṁ, dharmyam ityapi manyate;
Svadharme nidhanaṁ śreyaḥ...” (18.47–48)
“You must not abandon this righteous war. This battle is your Svadharma - your sacred duty.”

Even after asking for just five villages, Duryodhana denied you that. Bhagavān Himself went as a messenger of peace but even then, no compromise was offered. Your kingdom was unjustly taken. Reclaiming it is your dharma.

If we tolerate injustice in the name of ahiṁsā, we destroy our own life and society. If Sanātana Dharma is to be protected, we must understand ahiṁsā correctly.

Hence the question arises: What is greater, ahiṁsā or dharmic hiṁsā?

The answer is subtle: That hiṁsā which leads to the greater good of humanity is also ahiṁsā in essence.

As the saying goes:

“Non-violence is the highest dharma, but violence for upholding dharma is equally sacred.”

When a soldier protects the border and is forced to strike the enemy, it is not violence; it is duty. When an executioner punishes a criminal by law, it is not violence;  it is justice.

So, when violence is committed not out of hatred but out of dharma, to protect others, it becomes true ahiṁsā.

Let us understand this: we must interpret the Gītā not through passive or escapist lenses, but through the courageous, dynamic light of Śrī Kṛṣṇa.
He fought 17 wars. He guided Arjuna and Bhīma to slay Jarāsandha. He never allowed Arjuna to escape from his duties.

Duryodhana, Duḥśāsana, those who tried to dishonour Draupadī and acted unjustly had to be destroyed. Killing such adharma is not hiṁsā, it is dharma.

When we study Chapter 1 of the Gītā, we’ll clearly see Arjuna’s emotional collapse. But the Gītā's teachings slowly lift him up to understand what real ahiṁsā means.

Even Sant Jñāneśvar Mahārāj gives a beautiful explanation of ahiṁsā. He says:

“That which helps preserve peace in body, speech, and mind for the good of the world — that alone is ahiṁsā.”

Even if action seems harsh on the outside, if it brings benefit to the world, it is true ahiṁsā.
This is a profound lesson. This is the ahiṁsā of the Bhagavad Gītā, rooted in dharma, not in passivity. This is what we must understand in our lives today.

Now let us understand the value of satya (truth). Just as Yudhiṣṭhira was renowned as Satyavādī—a speaker of truth, so too must we grasp what truth really means. The very first lesson he was taught by his guru was, “Satyam vada, dharmam chara”—Speak the truth, walk the path of righteousness.

When the lesson was taught, the other students quickly memorised it and recited it back. But when Guru Droṇācārya asked Yudhiṣṭhira if he had learned the lesson, he did not raise his hand. He said honestly, “No, Gurudeva, I have not yet learned it.”

On the second day, third day, and even the fourth, the same thing happened. All the other students would chant, “Satyam vada, Dharmam chara,” but Yudhiṣṭhira maintained the same response. Finally, when Guru Droṇa asked why he was not repeating it, Yudhiṣṭhira humbly replied, “How can I claim I have learned it, Guruji, until truth has truly entered my life? Until I actually live the truth, how can I say I have understood it?”
Such was his commitment to satya.

This truth (satya) is not just a moral idea, it is the very ladder to higher realms. As it is said, “Satyam param dhīmahi” – Let us meditate on the Supreme Truth.

Even in the questions posed by the Yakṣa to Yudhiṣṭhira, one was:
“Kim svam? Eka padam svargam?” – What is the greatest wealth? What is the single step to heaven?

To this, Yudhiṣṭhira answered,

“Satyam eka padam svargam” – Truth alone is the one step that leads to heaven.
Truth is thus the foundation of dharma, and through dharma, one ascends.

• Akrodha (Freedom from Anger)Now, let us understand akrodha—often misunderstood as the complete absence of anger.

Many people ask, “We’re trying to reduce our anger, but how do we understand true akrodha?” It does not mean that a mother should never scold her child, or that a Guru should never correct a disciple. When a mother rebukes her son out of love, to instill good values, or when a Guru disciplines a student for their benefit, it is not considered krodha (anger) in the spiritual sense. That is akrodha in action—it is selfless, purposeful, and aligned with dharma.

We must grasp this subtlety clearly. A powerful illustration comes from the life of Swami Vivekananda. When he was traveling to the West, specifically America, he was aboard a ship. Some Westerners on the deck mocked his attire, his turban, and his dark complexion. Swami Vivekananda ignored their comments and remained absorbed in reading. But when they began to insult Bhārat Mātā, Mother India, Swamiji immediately stood up. Grabbing one of them by the collar, he declared in perfect English, “I will throw you into this ocean. I shall not tolerate any insult to my Mother India.”

This is akrodha not reacting out of personal ego, but rising with righteous intensity when a noble cause or dharmic principle is threatened. When someone insults us personally, and we do not react with anger, that is akrodha. But when someone disrespects our nation, our culture, or something sacred, and we respond with strength—not as a reaction, but as a conscious, disciplined response—then even krodha becomes an instrument of dharma.

This distinction is vital. Krodha (anger) should not arise impulsively as a reaction. For instance, if our boss scolds us at work, we may feel anger internally but are unable to express it there, so we misdirect it toward someone else at home. Such displaced anger is a harmful vikāra (disturbance).

We must understand akrodha not merely as suppression of anger, but as its proper understanding and channelization. Sometimes, even anger must be wielded like a weapon, not a weakness. That is why it's said:
"Is a pistol good or bad?"
It depends on whose hand it is in. In the hands of a police officer, it protects. In the hands of a criminal, it destroys.

So too, with krodha. If guided by dharma and controlled by viveka (discrimination), even anger can serve a higher purpose. But at a personal level, let us strive to cultivate akrodha, freedom from reactive, self-centered anger, as a spiritual discipline.

• Tyāga means renouncing the sense of doership in our actions.

True renunciation is not about giving up the action itself, but letting go of the ego that says, "I am the doer." When we realise that whatever we have accomplished is due to the abilities and opportunities given by Bhagavān, then that inner offering of ego is called tyāga.

So, in truth, whatever is done is done by You, O Bhagavān. "I did nothing." This is the attitude of tyāga. If someone says, "I did this!" then let them also recognise: the one seated within me as Īśvara made it happen. You gave the strength, you inspired the action.

Hence, true tyāga is not about dropping responsibilities, but surrendering the ego behind them.

• Now coming to śāntiḥ—peace.

Here, peace refers to the stillness and serenity of the antaḥkaraṇa (inner instrument: mind, intellect, etc.). The absence of restlessness, the deep inner calmness, is essential for any great or noble action.

Those who have bathed in the river of wisdom and in whom, satisfied with the food of perfection, new foliage sprouts on [the tree of] peace.

No great work can be sustained on the foundation of agitation or inner turmoil. Only when peace is firmly established within can truly noble actions blossom. That is why Bhagavān includes śāntiḥ as one of the essential divine qualities (daivī sampat).

Sant Jñāneśvar beautifully says in the beginning of his commentary on the Gītā:

This composition of mine has arisen from the showers of peace in the form of the Gita, which have fallen on the distressed out of his compassion for them.

This inner peace, or nirvāṇa-śānti, is the hallmark of a person who is spiritually evolved.
Even on the battlefield, amidst the chaos of war, Bhagavān teaches Arjuna to maintain calm in the heart. Peace is not the absence of noise outside, but the stillness within. And that stillness is divine.

Now it is said that “Apaiśunam” is very important.

• Apaiśunam means: not slandering or gossiping about anyone.

What is slander or gossip? Often, we feel an urge to vent when someone behaves harshly with us. That’s understandable. But instead of going to another person to talk ill, I sometimes go to Tulasī Mātā (the sacred Tulasi plant). I share my feelings with her.

Why Tulasi? Because her nature is sattvic, pure and life-giving. She absorbs our negative emotions and gives only good in return. That is why it's better to go near such natural, divine forms like a sacred plant or a river, when we want to let go of painful thoughts. But do not pour your emotions into another human by gossiping, because the negativity you describe in another person will unknowingly infect your own mind.

If you reflect too much on someone else's jealousy or envy, and how it harmed you, that same emotion silently enters your own system.
That is why Apaiśunam, refraining from gossip, is a divine quality.

• Now we come to Dayā – compassion.

This is not just a general softness. Dayā bhūteṣu means having compassion for all living beings—especially for those suffering or weaker than us. It should arise from within, from a pure and natural space of empathy.

• Then comes Alolupatvam, a very beautiful concept.

When our senses come in contact with their objects—something we like, like a beautiful form or a delicious food then desire awakens. This urge, this longing is called lōlupatva.
But when we remain unaffected, not pulled by temptation, we develop alolupatvam- a dignified restraint, where our senses stay balanced even in the presence of attraction.

• Mārdavam – softness or gentleness.

This refers to the tenderness of the heart. But we should ask: Where should this softness be? And where should we be firm?
Even firmness, if done for the sake of Bhagavān or for the welfare of the world, is considered a divine virtue.

• Now comes Hrīḥ – modesty, or the sense of shame.

This is very precious. Today, sadly, we live in a world where shame has diminished. Once, even a small mistake would make a person feel embarrassed, and that inner feeling would help them correct themselves. But today, many wrong actions are openly justified, and even accepted as the norm.

In some places, corruption has become a part of everyday conduct.

For example, a person entering government service might be told, "This is just how it works, bribes are part of the system." What was once immoral is now called etiquette. When Hrīḥ, that inner modesty, disappears, then restraint and righteousness fade too. But if one still feels ashamed of a mistake, there is hope for correction.

We are all humans—born to make mistakes. But the real human is one who admits and corrects them

Or as the song goes:

And this is why Bhagavān desires us to adopt divine virtues. In Arjuna’s life too, as we shall see in the upcoming reflections, these qualities become very significant.

• “Achāpalam” – the Absence of Futile Actions

Achāpalam means freedom from meaningless, unproductive actions. Often, people engage in certain behaviours not because they are necessary or meaningful, but because of peer pressure and social projection.

Today, even expressions of love are influenced by this pressure. For instance, a mother feels compelled to post on WhatsApp or Facebook on her son's birthday, saying things like, “You are the apple of my eye,” and more such declarations. But what is the need for this? It's not pure affection being expressed; it’s a result of societal expectation and peer pressure.

This is what one may call reactive energy. To explain with an analogy from electrical engineering in a system, there are two types of energy: active energy, which performs useful work like generating light or cooling; and reactive energy, which merely oscillates back and forth within the system without producing any real output.

Similarly, much of the activity in society today is driven by reactive energy, just going to and fro without meaning. We react, we post, we scroll, we show the thumbs up, all of it consuming our precious time. This is the very definition of unproductive action.

Achāpalam, therefore, is that noble quality where one avoids such wasteful actions. Every action undertaken by such a person is thoughtful, fruitful, and purposeful, something that contributes positively either to themselves or to the world.

Bhagavān calls this quality a part of Daivī Sampatti — the divine wealth of virtues.

• Tejaḥ – the quality of inner brilliance or luminosity.

It refers to a sharpness, a clarity, a radiance in one’s personality, not just external glow, but a certain prakhartā, intensity, or light that comes from within.

• Then, Kṣamā. Though commonly understood as forgiveness, Kṣamā has two deeper meanings: one is the ability to forgive, and the other is sahan-shakti – the capacity to endure.

In life, when people behave unjustly, and yet one chooses not to retaliate, but instead channels that pain into a higher purpose, that endurance is also a form of Kṣamā.

Gurudev used to say: It’s like lifting dumbbells. If someone criticises us and our mind becomes a little less agitated than before, it means the strength of Kṣamā is arising within us.

Sant Jñāneśvar Maharaj defined true Kṣamā as Anākrośa kṣamā – forgiveness without even the thought of anger."

हे अनाक्रोश क्षमा । जयापाशीं प्रियोत्तमा ।
जाण तेणें महिमा । ज्ञानासि गा ॥ ३५३ ॥

He. who practices such quiet endurance, O' best beloved, adds greatness to wisdom.

Just as one’s beloved is never blamed, so too, one who is immersed in the ocean of wisdom sees no fault in others. When there’s no inner aggression, when we don’t even see the other as having done wrong – that’s the true Dāivī quality of Kṣamā.

Then comes Dhṛti, which has two aspects: courage and patience. It is both the boldness to act, and the steadiness to endure. Dhṛti is closely related to titikṣā, the quiet waiting for the right moment to act. Both are vital.

That’s why it’s said: “Valour and Patience, these are the two wheels of the chariot of victory.”

One without the other causes an imbalance. For instance, history shows how Mangal Pandey’s rebellion in 1857 erupted prematurely. As soon as he realised that the cartridges were greased with cow fat, he reacted instantly. His quick rebellion, though well-intentioned, led to his martyrdom before a collective uprising could mature.

Compare that with Chhatrapati Shivaji Mahārāj. When Afzal Khan invaded with 20,000 troops and desecrated temples, even breaking the temple of Tuljā Bhavānī herself. Shivaji Mahārāj, who had only 3,000 soldiers, did not react immediately. He clenched his fists, walked out of the assembly and simply said: "Now Khan shall not live." But instead of responding impulsively, he waited with immense patience and strategy. Afzal Khan was looking to provoke him into a hasty battle. Shivaji, however, had internalised the lessons of the Mahābhārata, taught to him by Jijāmātā from his childhood. With supreme dhṛti, he waited for the right time and defeated Afzal Khan through well-planned tactics.

“Śaucam” means purity, inner and outer cleanliness, or śuci-bhāva. Just like Gaṅgā-jala, which is both visibly clean and spiritually purifying, that is true śuddhatā or śucitā. Now, take water from a modern purifier; it may be visibly clean, but is it sacred or pure in the deeper sense? That distinction between cleanliness and purity is important.

Then comes “adrohaḥ” — freedom from hatred or hostility. It means having no enmity in the heart toward anyone. A powerful example is Bhagavān Śrī Rāma. He destroyed Rāvaṇa, yet bore no hatred. He gave Rāvaṇa the punishment he deserved, but remained detached within.

How do we know this? After the war, when Rāvaṇa was slain, Vibhīṣaṇa refused to perform his last rites. He said, “He was my brother, yes, but he was a sinner.” But Bhagavān Rāma replied, “If you cannot do it as Rāvaṇa’s brother, then do it as Rāma’s brother, for now that the war is over and Rāvaṇa is dead, he is no longer a foe. There should be no hostility in the heart after death.”

That is true adrohaḥ.

Then Bhagavān speaks of “na ati-mānitā,” which is beautifully subtle. It doesn’t say “no honour” or “no self-worth.” Instead, it means not excessive pride, not elevating oneself by putting others down.

Bhagavān does not say “no mānitā”, He says na ati-mānitā. Some degree of self-respect, a sense of one’s own dignity and inner worth, is good; don’t reject that. But don’t let it become an inflated ego either.

These values, śaucam, adrohaḥ, and na ati-mānitā together form a divine foundation for a pure and humble life.

“O Pārtha! I have already explained the 26 divine qualities to you in detail. Now, let Me tell you what constitutes the āsurī-sampatti — the demoniac tendencies. Just as life has both light and shadow, goodness and wickedness, so too do these qualities fall under two categories — daivī (divine) and āsurī (demoniac). And remember, these are not fixed or inherited. They are interchangeable. Anyone can cultivate divine virtues or fall into demoniac tendencies depending on their actions and attitudes.”

“Let Me begin,” says Bhagavān. “The very first āsurī quality is dambha — hypocrisy. Dambha is the attempt to project a false image, pretending to be virtuous while hiding one's inner impurities. Deep down, every person knows their own flaws. But when one starts presenting a polished image to deceive others and gain admiration, that is hypocrisy.”

This ajñāna is twofold:

Bhagavān says: "Such a person is āsurīm sampadam abhijātasya – born with a demoniac disposition. The first symptom is dambha; hence, one must be extremely cautious. If, instead of absorbing divine virtues, one starts showcasing them to belittle others, hypocrisy has taken root, and it opens the door to all other āsurī traits."

Perhaps seeing the seriousness of this list, Arjuna’s face turned pale. He might have wondered, “Do I have these demoniac qualities?” But Bhagavān, ever compassionate, reassures him:

“O Arjuna, I am sharing this sacred Gītā with you because you are inherently endowed with divine qualities. You are Pārtha, son of Pṛthā (Kuntī). Your mother was a noble, devout woman who served sages, received boons from the Devas, and was deeply virtuous. From such a mother, you have inherited these divine traits.”

The Divine Qualities Lead to Liberation
Bhagavān says: “The divine qualities lead one towards liberation (vimokṣāya).” That is, 'divine qualities' (daivī sampat) do not merely grant freedom after death, but liberate a person while still living, freeing them from sorrow, ignorance, and inner negativities. On the other hand, āsurī sampatti—the demoniac or negative traits—bind a person (nibandhāya), leading them into deeper attachment, delusion, and bondage.

Bhagavān then lovingly reminds Arjuna of his noble heritage:
“O Pāṇḍava! You are the son of King Pāṇḍu. You were born in the forest and raised among great ṛṣis. You have witnessed their tapas (austerities), and your own discipline is remarkable. Night after night, you practiced the art of archery with deep focus and effort.”

Bhagavān continues:
“When the celestial nymph Urvaśī approached you with desire, you addressed her as 'Mother' with reverence. You possessed such restraint and respect. You even shared your wife Draupadī with your four brothers in the spirit of dharma, despite having won her alone in the svayamvara through your unmatched skill in hitting the moving target.”
“So many virtues reside within you, Arjuna. Therefore, do not grieve (mā śucah), you are born with divine qualities (daivī sampadam abhijātaḥ). That is why I am narrating the Gītā to you. Not just for your upliftment, but for the upliftment of all those who sit beside you, listening, learning, and seeking the same light.”

Let us too strive to cultivate these daivī qualities in our own lives and ascend towards spiritual evolution.

Bhagavān will now go on to explain how this world is divided into two types of beings, those with divine tendencies and those with demoniac ones, and how these tendencies shape one's destiny.

Bhagavān says: “This world is composed of two types of beings – the divine and the demoniac. I have described the divine qualities in detail, now, O Pārtha, hear from Me about the demoniac.”

Here, Bhagavān presents a fundamental division of creation into Daiva (divine) and Āsura (demoniac). This division is not based on caste, birth, nationality, religion, or external modes of worship. It is purely based on qualities of the heart and mind, on virtue and vice, on good and evil. This is not a sociological classification, but a spiritual lens, a filter through which to view the world and ourselves.

And in this lies one of the most profound and uplifting teachings of this chapter, it purifies our vision, refines our discernment, and helps us cultivate the right attitude toward the world. This is why the Bhagavad Gītā becomes a mirror for our inner growth, constantly refining not just what we do, but how we perceive.

Bhagavān says: “Daivī qualities I have explained in detail; now listen carefully to the āsurī qualities.” With this, He invites us into the next chamber of this discourse, where we will try to open the door to understanding the demoniac tendencies, not in others, but within ourselves.

For only when we are aware of what must be discarded, can we truly cultivate what is to be embraced. In the coming sessions, we will explore how Bhagavān elaborates upon these negative tendencies, not to judge, but to reflect; not to condemn, but to cleanse.

Thus, this exposition today is but a gentle stream of nectar flowing from the sacred lips of Sadgurudev, who has once again made the timeless wisdom of the Gītā accessible to all. If any part of this wisdom has touched the listener's heart, let it be humbly offered at the feet of Sadgurudev and Śrī Jñāneśvar Mahārāj, for it is solely by their compassion and grace that such understanding has become possible.

Sapna ji
Q: Despite teaching my 9-year-old son good values at home, through the Gītā, Ramcharitmanas, and personal discipline, I'm often told from outside that he lacks manners and discipline. He’s very restless and doesn’t follow expected behaviour in public. How do I help him truly internalise discipline?
Ans: Every mother worries about her child, and today it’s especially hard to instill values. Since your son is already learning the Gītā with you, that’s a great beginning. But values grow when they’re gently nurtured through daily habits and the right environment. So, observe his surroundings, friends, language, daily influences, and guide patiently.
Children learn more from what we do than what we say. If we stay up late, skip prayers, or act casually, they pick it up. So, be the example that even small actions make a deep impact.
To make discipline enjoyable, introduce a “Discipline Day,” say Thursday. Tell him to focus on small things: kind speech, putting shoes in place, and no TV during meals. Praise even 80% effort. You too can take up a “Gītā Day” or “No TV Day,” children learn best by watching.
Rather than correcting all the time, create a home filled with inspiration, morning bhajans, gentle reminders, and shared family efforts. Get your husband involved too. Maintain a small journal together to track efforts — this turns discipline into a joyful journey.
Children today resist pressure, but respond beautifully to subtle, loving guidance, just like Bhagavān Kṛṣṇa gently led Arjuna with wisdom and timing.



Amrutha Acharya ji
Q: How can we politely avoid or escape situations where someone starts speaking negatively (nindā) about others, especially when stopping them directly may seem rude?
Ans: One solution is to mentally connect to something positive immediately—like silently chanting “Śrī Rām Jaya Rām Jaya Jaya Rām”, “Om Namo Bhagavate Vāsudevāya”, or “Śrī Kṛṣṇa Śaraṇam Mama”. This helps protect your subconscious mind from being affected.
We can’t change the world or stop everyone from gossiping. As Swami Chinmayananda said:
“Yesterday I was clever, so I tried to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.”
So instead of trying to stop others—which can backfire—just don’t mentally agree, don’t participate, and quietly shift your focus inward to Bhagavān. That way, you remain untouched and peaceful.


Swarup ji
Q: I would really like to have a copy of the Hindi Jñāneśvarī that you mentioned. How can I get it?"
Ans: The Hindi Jñāneśvarī is from Gita Press, Gorakhpur.

Q: What Jñāneśvar Māulī has said in the Jñāneśvarī, how can we bring that into our own lives?”
Ans: Jñāneśvar Mahārāj’s teaching on Guru-bhakti is the highest ideal. Such descriptions lift our vision and guide our sādhana. Instead of thinking we've advanced and looking down on others, we must keep aspiring upwards. The desire for inner purification (doṣa-nivṛtti) itself is powerful. Effort is ours; grace comes from saints like Jñāneśvar and Gurudev.


The discourse concluded with a prārthanā (prayer) at the padakamala (lotus feet) of Śrī Hari, followed by the recitation of the Hanumān Chalisa.