We previously examined Arjuna’s state of mind, where he was engulfed in depression. Depression causes a person to become disconnected from their true self, leading to a separation from their inherent nature. This raises the question: why is the first chapter of the Gita called “Arjuna-Vishaada Yoga”? What is the connection between sorrow and yoga? Or, in what context has the word “yoga” been used in the Gita?
Vishaada Yoga! The term “yoga” has many meanings, some of which are entirely contrary to the usual understanding of yoga. It is a valid question to ask: how can sorrow be considered yoga? We might expect happiness to be associated with yoga, but how can sorrow be considered yoga?
Yet, sorrow can indeed be yoga because it is the inverted form of bliss, a state where bliss is standing on its head. Just as a person remains the same whether standing upright or on their head, so too does the essence of nature persist in sorrow, even when it appears inverted. What we often term as going against nature is merely a distortion, a perversion, yet it remains part of nature. For example, if impurities mix with gold, we still recognize it as gold, albeit impure. It is called gold because the impurity can be removed, restoring its purity. Similarly, it is called Vishaada Yoga because, although it is sorrow, the sorrow can be burned away, leaving behind yoga. The journey towards bliss is still possible. No one falls into such deep sorrow that they cannot return to their true nature. Even in the deepest sorrow, the path to one’s true self remains. Yoga serves as a reminder of that path.
Sorrow arises for a reason. Why does sorrow occur? A stone does not experience sorrow because it cannot feel bliss. Sorrow occurs because, in a profound sense, it is a reminder of bliss. Sorrow happens because, deep down, consciousness knows it is not reaching its full potential, not achieving what is possible. Sorrow is the result of unfulfilled potential, of knowing that what is possible is not being realized.
Therefore, the more talented a person is, the deeper their sorrow can be. Only the dull-witted are spared from deep sorrow because they lack the means to compare themselves to their potential; they do not even consider what they could become. But those who recognize their potential for bliss will find their sorrow deepening, their nights darker. Those who are aware of the morning will see the night as darker, while those ignorant of the morning may find the night acceptable.
Arjuna’s state of sorrow is called yoga because his awareness of sorrow contrasts with his true nature. No one else on the battlefield experiences this sorrowful yoga. Duryodhana does not experience it. Duryodhana does not experience this sorrow, but Yudhishthira is considered a good man, Dharmaraja; why does he not experience it?
This is indeed thought-provoking. We might expect Yudhishthira to experience such sorrow, but he does not. Yudhishthira is a so-called religious man, and even a bad man is preferable to a so-called religious man. A bad man will eventually feel the pain of his wrongdoing, but a so-called religious man does not even feel that pain because he is convinced of his righteousness. Yudhishthira is confident in his religiousness, though it is a false confidence. He is, in fact, the epitome of a conservative religious man.
There are two kinds of religious people: those who borrow their religion from the past, and those whose religion comes from inner revolution. Arjuna is a religious man standing on the brink of an inner revolution. He is not yet religious in the true sense, but he is on the verge of a transformation. He is experiencing the pain from which true religion can emerge. Yudhishthira, on the other hand, is satisfied with the religion he has inherited from the past. He can gamble or go to war for his kingdom without a second thought because he is confident in his righteousness. He is religious, yet all kinds of sins occur around his so-called religion, and he feels no discomfort.
Typically, those who frequent temples, mosques, gurdwaras, or churches are like Yudhishthira. They are content. They read the Gita daily, memorize it, and consider themselves staunchly religious. They believe they know everything worth knowing, and that is the end of the matter. Such people are like spent cartridges—empty, with nothing left to fire. An empty cartridge may seem harmless, but it lacks substance.
Yudhishthira, as Dharmaraja, represents the legacy of inherited religion. The religion passed down through tradition and custom is symbolized by figures like him. They face no internal conflict because they are compromisers, finding a middle ground between religion and irreligion in every situation. The so-called religious man is a hypocrite, with two faces: one for show and one for practical use, with no conflict between them. This is the essence of hypocrisy—there is no internal conflict, allowing them to easily shift roles like an actor. Yesterday they may have played Ram; today, they can play Ravana without any difficulty. They simply put on the costume and start speaking the language of the new role.
I say that the so-called religious man is worse than the irreligious because the irreligious man will eventually feel the sting of his actions, while the man who compromises can endure his pain indefinitely.
This is why Yudhishthira does not feel sorrow. He is completely content. It is indeed interesting that both the irreligious and religious men are content in this war, while Arjuna, who finds no satisfaction in either irreligion or so-called religion, is deeply troubled.
Arjuna is an authentic man, and his authenticity lies in his turmoil. His questions, his dissatisfaction with the situation, are what make him genuine. His restlessness and pain are the catalysts for his growth. This is why it is called Vishaada Yoga—because Arjuna has attained sorrow. Blessed are those who attain sorrow because it compels them to seek a way out. Those who have not even attained sorrow are unfortunate, for they will never find happiness. Blessed are those who experience separation because separation gives rise to the desire for union. Therefore, separation is also yoga—a yearning for union. Yoga is union, but separation is also yoga because it is the longing and quest for union. Sorrow, too, is yoga. While yoga is bliss, sorrow is the process of being born into bliss. This is why it is called Vishaada Yoga.