Detachment doesn’t make us hard-hearted attachment does – Learning from Kaikeyi

So, I am grateful to be here amongst all of you.
Am I audible to everyone?
Thank you.

Today, I will speak on the topic: Detachment does not make us hard-hearted; attachment does.
I will base my talk on the Ramayana and draw practical lessons from it.

A couple of months ago, I was in the United States, having left India in February. I was giving a talk at Stanford University, and after the talk, a professor of Hinduism came to speak with me. He mentioned that Eastern cultures stress detachment so much that people become hard-hearted. In comparison, Christianity and other Western religions have their own conception of God and heaven, but he noted that the Christian idea of heaven resembles a perpetual family reunion, where grandparents, uncles, and relatives come together.

I also recalled a review I received for a book I wrote on reincarnation. A Christian Science author reviewed it, and she remarked that while Christians investigate near-death experiences, they don’t explore past-life memories because they don’t believe in reincarnation. It’s interesting to note that Christians accept the idea of the soul, but reject reincarnation, while Buddhists accept reincarnation but don’t believe in the soul. Each tradition offers glimpses of truth.

Returning to the point the professor made about detachment, he claimed that it makes people hard-hearted. I replied that if we broadly divide Eastern and Western cultures, one of the fundamental units of social integrity is the family. In Eastern culture, particularly in Indian culture, detachment is emphasized, yet the family structure is much stronger. I gave him an example: I had gone for a morning Japa walk in Los Angeles and visited a park. Normally, parks are filled with children, but this park was filled with dogs. In fact, I saw one person wearing a t-shirt that read, “The more I get to know people, the more I love my dog.” It seemed to reflect the idea that people are terrible, but dogs are better.

I pointed out that while both Western and Eastern cultures have spiritual elements, and both also contain materialistic elements, it is too simplistic to caricature these cultures. We had a good discussion about this notion of hard-heartedness and detachment.

I have written a book on the Ramayana and am currently working on a second one. Today, I want to discuss detachment and hard-heartedness as two concepts.

People often think that detachment means not caring for anyone, and that if you don’t care for anyone, you must be hard-hearted. But there’s a difference between detachment and hard-heartedness. Hard-heartedness means that the heart becomes like a stone, insensitive to others’ emotions. Detachment, on the other hand, means we don’t rely on others’ emotions for our happiness.

Let me clarify this with a simple example: Suppose a doctor needs to give an injection to a patient. A few years ago, I had a severe attack of tuberculosis and went through numerous tests. One of the most uncomfortable experiences was when a nurse had to take multiple blood samples, and after several attempts, she found a spot on my arm that wasn’t already pierced. If she had been hard-hearted, she would have simply poked anywhere, without caring about the pain. But hard-heartedness would also involve a lack of empathy for the patient’s distress.

On the other hand, if a doctor avoids giving an injection because they are afraid of causing pain, that would be foolishness. The doctor needs to be detached. Detachment means the doctor does not rely on the patient’s approval to make a medical decision. The doctor should be sensitive but should not allow the patient’s emotions to dictate the necessary treatment.

This is a crucial point: Attachment makes us hard-hearted. Let’s explore why. When we are attached, we care deeply for someone or something. But attachment narrows our focus. It can limit our emotions to one person or object, and we can become blind to everything else. For example, we may want something at any cost, regardless of the consequences for others.

In the Ramayana, we see how attachment led to hard-heartedness. Let’s consider the case of Kaikeyi. But before that, let’s pause—are there any questions or clarifications so far?

It would be quite traumatizing for them as well. In that sense, emotions are required to some extent to be engaged so that there can be responsibility. If we don’t have any emotional connection, we don’t feel responsible for anyone.

Shri Prabhupada writes that in every species—whether it’s a cat and a kitten, a tiger and its cub, or a dog and its puppy—the parents feel affection for their children. He says this is natural and necessary, but it is not spiritual. We’ll discuss spirituality later. So, it’s not that the emotional connection we feel with others is always undesirable. What is its effect on us? If it makes us more responsible, then that’s good. But if it makes us so obsessed that we care only for this person and disregard everyone else, that may not be appropriate.

Thus, both the subject and object have to be considered when we talk about affection or attachment. The key is expressing it in the right way.

Now, broadly speaking, we can say there are good people who do good things, and bad people who do bad things. But sometimes, good people do bad things, and that can be very disturbing. How could they have done something like this? I thought they were a nice person. If Ravana does something terrible, we would expect that because he’s a demon. If he does something good, we would be surprised. So, while there are black and white categories, in reality, there are shades of grey. Most of us operate in those shades of grey. There’s some part of us that is good, and some part that is not so good.

Let’s look at what happened to Kaikeyi. Kaikeyi was a good person. In fact, when all the brothers were growing up, Kaikeyi loved Ram just as much as she loved her own son, Bharat. And yet, what happened? In a short period of time, she asked for something horrendous.

The story of Kaikeyi is complex, but we can break it down into two broad stages. Kaikeyi was misled by a particular character: Manthara. Manthara had her own vested interests. She was hunchbacked and not very attractive. Sometimes people would make friendly jokes at her expense. But when Kaikeyi became the favorite queen of King Dashrath, Manthara’s position in the royal household rose. She became the favored maidservant of the favorite queen. No one dared to speak ill of her.

When Manthara learned that Ram was going to be coronated as the prince regent, she saw it as a threat. If Ram became king, then Kaushalya would be the queen mother, and Kaikeyi’s position would be lost. She started poisoning Kaikeyi’s mind.

We all know how gossip works—especially when we hear something we like about someone we dislike. Gossip thrives on this. So, when people tell us things about others, it’s important to ask: why are they telling us this? What is their motivation?

Manthara’s manipulation led Kaikeyi to believe that Ram’s coronation was part of a conspiracy to deprive her son, Bharat, of his rightful place. Manthara twisted the narrative, convincing Kaikeyi that this was a threat to Bharat’s future. As a result, Kaikeyi demanded two things from Dashrath: that Ram be sent to the forest for 14 years, and that Bharat be crowned king.

Dashrath was horrified when he heard this. He begged her to reconsider. He even fainted from the shock of it all, but Kaikeyi’s attachment to Bharat, driven by Manthara’s influence, made her heartless toward everyone else. She was unable to see the consequences of her actions, and no amount of begging could change her mind.

The attachment Kaikeyi had to Bharat narrowed her vision. When someone is deeply attached to something, their emotional focus becomes limited to just that object of attachment. They become blind to everything else. This is what happened to Kaikeyi. She couldn’t see how her actions would devastate her family, even though Dashrath was begging her, even though the whole kingdom would be plunged into mourning.

When Bharat returned to Ayodhya and learned of what had happened, he was devastated. He could not believe that his mother had done such a thing. He found it utterly unacceptable. He could not reconcile the mother he knew with the actions she had taken. Kaikeyi had imagined a version of Bharat that approved of her actions. But the real Bharat, when faced with the truth, rejected it completely.

This is a pivotal moment in the Ramayan. Kaikeyi’s attachment to Bharat led her to take drastic actions, and her heart became hard. She was so convinced of her rightness that she could not see the damage her decisions caused. When Bharat confronted her, she was shaken to the core, but it was too late to undo the harm.

So, the arrow of time moves forward. Once the damage is done, there’s no going back. What Kaikeyi did was irreversible, and despite her regret, she had to live with the consequences of her actions.

She eventually went with Bharat to beg Ram to come back. But Ram said that my father had told me to stay in the forest for 14 years. That is what I am going to do. So, even she, although she had instigated the whole thing, was powerless to stop it.

Kaikeyi is an example of a good person doing a terrible thing. Not just a bad thing, a terrible thing. And the scary thing is that what she did may not be exactly the same thing, but we all can also do something horrible. If we look back at our own lives, we can all think of things we have done that we are not proud of. And “we are not proud of” is actually a euphemism. To say that we are embarrassed, mortified, is a more accurate description.

Now, if we look back and say, “How could I have done this? How could I have said that?” Isn’t it? Is there anyone who, throughout their life, has never done anything they feel embarrassed about? It’s very difficult to find anyone like that.

So, at one level, Raavan doing a terrible thing is, in one sense, understandable. But Kaikeyi doing something terrible—how do we understand that? There is something dark within us, which can overpower us.

Kaikeyi’s story tells us that we need to be terrified about how terrible we can become. Not that we will become like that, but we need to be cautious. We need to have a healthy fear of our lower side overpowering us.

What could Kaikeyi have done to prevent this? And similarly, what can we do to prevent this? Earlier, I mentioned that affection is not bad. Sometimes affection can appear like attachment, and sometimes attachment can appear like affection. The main difference between the two is: when we are attached, we care more for what the other person thinks about us than for the other person.

When we are attached to someone, that they should be pleased with us is extremely important for us. But when we are affectionate towards someone, we are concerned about their welfare. The difference is that in attachment, we seek their approval for our own pleasure; in affection, we seek their happiness because it matters to us.

So, Kaikeyi’s affection for Bharat was perfectly fine. There’s nothing wrong with that. But what happened was that her attachment to Bharat grew so much that it blinded her to everything else. Attachment narrowed her perspective, and her obsession with Bharat became destructive.

Krishna says in the Bhagavad Gita (18:22), he talks about “knowledge in ignorance.” Normally, we think of knowledge and ignorance as opposites. But knowledge in ignorance is knowledge that increases our ignorance. What does this mean? It means that we gain knowledge about one thing and then make that one thing everything. When we focus solely on one thing, it becomes all-consuming and we forget the larger picture.

For Kaikeyi, her relationship with Bharat and her desire to make him happy became everything for her. We all live in a network of relationships. At times, one relationship requires more attention, and that’s necessary. But if one relationship becomes all-consuming and we neglect everyone else, that’s unhealthy.

When one relationship grows so obsessive that we forget everything else, it becomes problematic. Just like growth is natural in the body—cells multiply—but cancer is also growth, but disproportionate. Cancer cells grow uncontrollably and harm other cells. Similarly, when one relationship grows so excessively that it harms others, we lose perspective.

Srila Prabhupada says in the Bhagavad Gita (10:5-6) that intelligence is the ability to see things in their proper perspective: this is more important, this is less important. To make one thing all-important and disregard everything else is unhealthy.

Kaikeyi let her desire to secure Bharat’s position grow so much that it consumed her completely. That’s when the problem arose. Krishna says, “dharma aviruddho bhuteshu kamosnivara darshana” (Bhagavad Gita 18:22). Kama, or desire, is one of the purposes of human life, but it should not become so great that it leads us to cross ethical boundaries.

When ambition crosses over ethical boundaries, it becomes greed. Ambition is kama, and ethics is dharma. Kaikeyi’s affection for her son was natural, but when her desire to fulfill that affection made her disregard dharma, she lost her way.

We all know at times when we are doing something wrong, but we still do it. This happens when we lose sight of our ethical compass. We need to guard our intelligence, so our intelligence can guard us.

Just as a bodyguard protects someone, we need to protect our intelligence from being misled. If we are not vigilant, our lower impulses can overpower us, just as Kaikeyi’s attachment did.

That they are well-rested. That they are well-equipped. And to the extent the guards are provided for, the guards will provide for them. So if they neglect the guard, they set themselves up for danger. If they reject the guard, that’s an even greater danger. Our intelligence is like our guard. And our intelligence starts telling us, “Don’t do this.” When we neglect that intelligence, sometimes we get away with it. Sometimes we neglect our intelligence and nothing seems to happen, and everything feels fine. Now, many people think that morality is simply the lack of opportunity. They might think, “I will do the right thing as long as I don’t have the opportunity to do the wrong thing and get away with it.” So sometimes we might do something wrong and get away with it. But what happens is that once we get away with it once, the second time we might also get away with it, and the third time, perhaps. But at some point, we might not. How it works is that if we neglect our good sense, we could eventually face consequences. I will conclude with the last two points, and then we can have questions.

First, Dharma sets some boundaries around us, outlining what we should and shouldn’t do. Sometimes we might transgress those boundaries and get away with it. A small wrong thing may not seem to matter. Of course, we are not being fanatical or overly judgmental here. But we all know our weaknesses. For example, if we live in a high-crime area and once forget to lock the door, we come back and everything is safe—nothing is stolen. The second time, we forget to lock the door again, and still nothing happens. Five times may pass, and nothing goes wrong. But on the sixth time, disaster might strike. When we leave the door open, it’s possible that nothing will happen. But there’s also a possibility that something terrible could happen. So if we know we have particular weaknesses, and we are aware that if we go in a certain direction, things could go terribly wrong, we must be cautious. Just because nothing has gone wrong in the past doesn’t mean we are always safe. When we neglect our intelligence, we risk our safety. Especially with things we are vulnerable to, we need to be extremely careful.

In her case, Kaikeyi knew there was a natural competition among the co-wives, and a sense of insecurity made her especially vindictive. We need to guard ourselves, particularly in areas of vulnerability. When we do so, our intelligence can protect us. Our intelligence will warn us of our weaknesses, and if we listen to it, it will guide us.

The last point: Never make permanent decisions based on temporary emotions. Never take irreversible decisions based on reversible emotions. For example, today I might feel so angry with someone, so terrible, that I feel like destroying everything between us. But the mind is fickle, and tomorrow I could feel terrible about what I said. Emotions can be volatile, so when they overwhelm us, it’s crucial to wait. Don’t act immediately on these emotions. If Kaikeyi had just waited for some time and consulted someone, she might have avoided this catastrophe. She could have asked Dashrath why the coronation was happening without Bharat’s presence. If she had doubts about Dashrath, she could have approached Vasishta, who had no vested interest in the matter. Often, we act impulsively based on one side of the story, which only represents a part of the truth. If Kaikeyi had taken time to listen to others, this disaster could have been avoided.

Sometimes, when we have relationships in our community, certain people may trigger irritation in us. If we hear something negative about them in that state, all the irritation can burst out, and we act rashly. In such moments, it’s important to check ourselves before reacting. Also, if we practice bhakti, we understand that Krishna is ultimately in control. When Krishna is in charge, everything has its place, including our role in his plan. At times, we may need to assert ourselves, but we don’t need to panic and disrupt everything just to protect our interests. Krishna has a plan, and by trusting in that, we can maintain perspective.

In the Bhagavatam, when Parikshit curses the snake, Shringi, in his anger, believes he is doing Krishna’s work, but he is actually doing Kali’s work. True bhakti helps us trust Krishna’s control and the bigger picture, rather than reacting out of panic and fear. When we understand that Krishna has a plan for us, even when things are wrong, we don’t overreact. We may still have to act, but we will not feel like the world is falling apart. Once we stop thinking it’s the end of the world, we won’t overreact. Bhakti gives us the faith that Krishna is in control, and this allows us to act from a place of calm, trust, and service. This perspective helps us navigate challenges without resorting to extreme measures.

We won’t become aggressive about it. Being passive is in tamoguna, being aggressive is in rajoguna, and being assertive is in sattvoguna. Being aggressive means we hit back at another person. Being passive means we just let that person walk over us, thinking, “Whatever you want, do it. What can I do?” But being assertive means we stand firm. We say, “This is important for me, this is my purpose, this is my service, and I want to protect this.” If somebody comes in the way, we counter them. We are focused on our service, not fighting against them. We are fighting for our service, for our responsibility, for Krishna’s sake.

When we have that attitude, we will be able to act constructively. Our Krishna bhakti helps us keep our emotions in check. When we practice bhakti, we are not so much concerned about detachment as we are about commitment—commitment to Krishna’s service. When we are committed to Krishna’s service and our bhakti practices, that commitment establishes a connection between us and Krishna. Through that connection, Krishna will give us the intelligence to act and serve Him in the most effective way in any given situation.

To summarize, I spoke on the topic: Detachment doesn’t make us hard-hearted; attachment does. I began by addressing how some people from Western traditions think that Eastern traditions are hard-hearted because they talk about detachment so much. They believe Eastern cultures are emotionally cold. Why is that? Because there is something deeper going on. It’s not simply hard-heartedness. Detachment is not the absence of emotion, but the absence of emotional dependence. Hard-heartedness, on the other hand, means not caring for others at all.

So, it is not detachment that makes us hard-hearted; it’s attachment. When we are too attached to one thing, we stop caring about everything else. We may even hurt or destroy others in the process. For example, the doctor doesn’t cause pain to the patient indiscriminately. The doctor cannot be hard-hearted about the pain, but needs to be detached from the patient’s emotions. The child doesn’t want the injection, but the doctor still needs to give it.

Next, I spoke about the Kaikeyi-Mantra story. Kaikeyi was manipulated. Mantra had her own vested interests and used gossip to manipulate Kaikeyi. Gossip is when we hear something we like about someone we dislike. As soon as Kaikeyi heard that it was a conspiracy by Kaushalya, she got carried away, and Mantra pressed her buttons, turning her into a puppet. This led to the exile of her own son, Ram, and to the death of her own husband. It was only when her conception of Bharat collided with the real Bharat that she came to her senses, but by then, it was too late. Time once gone doesn’t come back.

So what could Kaikeyi have done? We talk about this story because it’s an example of a good person doing a bad thing. We might also end up doing terrible things. In fact, we can look back at our lives and see things we are not proud of, things that mortify us. What could we do? I talked about four levels. First, we need to recognize that we have certain attachments, and that’s natural. Our affection is natural. But when one thing becomes everything, it becomes a big problem. Cancer is also growth, but it’s disproportionately destructive growth. If one desire, craving, or emotion completely dominates us, we become blind to everything else, and that desire becomes cancerous. We need to be alert to this.

The second point was to guard our intelligence, because our intelligence will guard us. When our intelligence tells us, “Don’t do this, you’re weak in this area, don’t go this way,” we must listen. If nothing happens once, it doesn’t mean we’re safe. If we keep neglecting our intelligence, we risk consequences.

The third point is that even if we feel overwhelmed by something or by our emotions, we should wait before making irreversible decisions. And one way to wait is to ask others. Instead of getting carried away with our own side of the story, hear the other side. This way, we can avoid obsession and overreaction.

Finally, I said that we need to have faith that Krishna has a plan and a place for us. When we panic, thinking that someone is out to destroy us, we may overreact. Bhakti isn’t just about rituals; it’s about increasing our faith in Krishna’s control and plan for our life. So, if we focus on practicing bhakti, that commitment to Krishna will create a connection with Him. We won’t ask, “What should I do to deal with this person?” Instead, we will ask, “How can I serve Krishna in this situation?”

By focusing on serving Krishna, we won’t be passive or aggressive, but assertive. We will protect our service, our responsibility, and move forward. By maintaining this perspective and connecting with Krishna, we can ensure we don’t make terrible decisions in stressful situations. This healthy fear of how terrible we can be motivates us to stay on the correct path.

Thank you very much. Hare Krishna. Do we have time for questions? Any questions or comments?

Response to the question:
The question was, “How does attachment give us the conviction that we are always right?”
Basically, we could say that there are two faculties within us: the mind and the intelligence (or, in modern language, emotion and reason). When we are overly attached to something, our mind tends to justify our attachment, often distorting our reasoning. This makes us believe that we are always right, even when we may be acting from a place of emotional dependence rather than clear understanding.

Our consciousness can be directed in two ways. If you consider consciousness to be like a river or a flow of water, there are two streams: the stream of reason and the stream of emotion. Both are important. If we are only interested in logic, with only the head and no heart, then we cannot truly connect with a person. But if there is only heart and no head, it is also very difficult to connect. Therefore, we need a balance of both.

However, when our consciousness starts flowing only along the emotional track, when we are very attached to something, and that attachment blinds us to the bigger picture, then our consciousness flows only through the emotion stream. In this case, reason is no longer present. Our consciousness is no longer flowing along the reasoning track, so we no longer critically think about what we are doing. We don’t have any reasonable doubts about our actions. In a sense, when we have conviction, it means we don’t have doubt.

The Bhagavatam, in the third canto, says that doubt is also a sign of intelligence. Of course, doubt is not the only sign of intelligence, but it can be compared to the brake when driving a car. Faith or conviction is like the accelerator, and doubt is like the brake. If you are driving a car with no brake, it is dangerous. But if you are driving with only the brake, you won’t get anywhere. So, when there is danger, when we are going off course, or when an obstacle is coming, we need to press the brake. Doubt, in this sense, is not bad.

People who are overconfident about their rightness can’t learn much. When our consciousness starts flowing only through the emotion stream, there is no consciousness available for the reasoning track. That’s why we don’t think deeply or critically about our actions. This leads to a false conviction of, “This is what I should be doing.” Does this answer your question?

Thank you. Yes, I have a question.

Question: Is attachment totally different from affection, or is it that when we cross a particular boundary, affection becomes attachment?

Answer:
I would say the focus can be more on responsibility. There was a story about a centipede, a creature with a thousand feet, who danced very gracefully. A spider, envious of the centipede’s grace, asked him, “Can you tell me when you dance, when you put your 6th foot down, after that why don’t you put your 82nd foot?” The centipede, thinking about this, became so distracted that he couldn’t dance as gracefully anymore.

Similarly, rather than focusing too much on whether we are becoming attached or affectionate, we should focus on our responsibility. I have a responsibility in a particular role, but my responsibility is not only to a person; it is also to Krishna. I must connect with this person, take care of them, and connect with Krishna. If we focus on responsibility, things become clearer. We understand that Krishna has given everyone free will. I can help them use their free will properly, but I also need to use my free will properly. We can only help the unwilling as much as the unable.

When we are affectionate and someone is making a wrong decision, we try to guide them, offering resources and reasons to help them make the right decision. But if we are attached, we might take the wrong decision with them because we can’t let go. So, focusing on responsibility keeps us protected. If we start obsessing over whether our affection is attachment, it becomes artificial. In relationships, the goal should be to act responsibly. When we are more introspective, in a mode of goodness, we can reflect on whether we made the right decision, but we can always learn and improve.

Regarding Dashrath’s role in the Kaikeyi story:

This analysis of Kaikeyi’s actions is very instructive for us because we make similar mistakes. The way you analyzed it is very nice. But I am also thinking about Dashrath. What could he have done differently to avoid this?

Answer:
First, Kaikeyi is not considered a villain in the story. Ram specifically tells Bharat, when they are going back, that whatever happened was the will of destiny, and Kaikeyi was simply an instrument in that. So, don’t blame her for it.

From a transcendental perspective, everything is orchestrated according to the Lord’s plan. That’s true, but if we only focus on that, we don’t learn lessons from the actions of the characters. When we study this pastime, we analyze the right and wrong courses of action, not to judge the characters but to learn from them.

Now, what could Dashrath have done differently? There is a sense of honor in the story, something difficult to understand in today’s world. Most people nowadays don’t take their words seriously. Politicians, for example, often make promises before elections, only to break them after. They make promises and do the exact opposite. In contrast, a word of honor was crucial, especially for those in positions of power. Kshatriyas, when they gave their word, had to keep it. You were only as credible as your word was.

This was an ethic by which Kshatriyas operated. Dashrath, in his situation, was bound by this code of honor. His sense of duty to keep his word was significant, even though it led to a tragic outcome in this case.

Because Dashrath had given his word, it was very difficult for him to take it back. Now, there are different perspectives on this situation. One Srivaishnava commentator has suggested that Dashrath should not have valued his word of honor more than his devotion to Ram. This is one way of looking at it. However, in the context of the Ramayan, the focus is more on dharma (righteous conduct) than on bhakti (devotion). Although bhakti is important in the analysis of the Ramayan by commentators, the primary theme is right conduct.

The central question in the Ramayan is asked by Valmiki to Narada: Is there a person who behaves ideally? What are the characteristics of such an ideal person, and who is that person? The answer is Ram, whose conduct is exemplary, and those around him also behave with high moral standards.

We could say that Dashrath might not have given that promise, but he had a special connection with Kaikeyi. He made the promise because she had done something significant for him. When he reiterated that promise, it was due to his happiness. When Kaikeyi looked disheartened and distressed, Dashrath said, “In the name of Ram, I promise you, whatever you ask, I will give you.” In fact, he said this three times. We must be careful not to make promises when we are overly happy or emotionally driven. This is a lesson we can learn from Dashrath’s situation.

Beyond that, Dashrath was simply helpless at that moment. Kaikeyi was not ready to listen to him at all.

Question:

You said that attachment narrows our thinking. How would you describe attachment to Krishna, in the sense that we are attached to Krishna for his pleasure and not for the goal of going back to the Godhead? Does this type of attachment narrow our thinking?

Answer:

It depends on how we understand our attachment to Krishna. If we view Krishna as just one person far away, with no connection to the world around us, then yes, our attachment to Krishna might narrow our thinking. We might think, “I care for Krishna, so I don’t care for anyone else.” However, if we understand that Krishna is the source of everything and everyone is a part of Krishna, then our attachment to Krishna will not narrow our thinking. In fact, it will broaden it.

Our relationship with Krishna is not just about how we connect with Krishna; it also involves how we connect with others. If we have an inclusive vision of Krishna, where Krishna encompasses all relationships, then we can spiritualize everything we do. This way, we can connect with others in a more loving and responsible way.

In extreme situations, a devotee might focus only on Krishna. For example, Draupadi had five husbands, but when none of them could protect her, she focused solely on Krishna. Her devotion became the center of her thinking at that moment.

So, if we have an inclusive vision of Krishna, where we see that our attachment to Krishna is part of a broader connection with the world, then it won’t narrow our thinking but will help us navigate our responsibilities in a balanced way.

Question:

You mentioned that whatever service we do, we must understand Krishna is in control. In normal life, if someone is making mistakes and we know they are on the wrong track, should we stop them or let them continue, trusting Krishna will guide them?

Answer:

Yes, Krishna is in control, but He has also given us some control and responsibility. It’s by Krishna’s plan that we have been assigned particular roles in life. For example, if I am giving a class and someone gets up to speak nonsense, should I just think that Krishna is in control and let them speak? No, because people have come to hear about Krishna from me, and if I don’t stop the person, I will be wasting everyone’s time.

In our roles, we are entrusted with certain responsibilities on Krishna’s behalf. This means we need to make sure things are done right within our sphere of influence. Krishna has given us the power to act responsibly, and in cases where people are making mistakes, we should try to guide them, but always with the understanding that Krishna’s will is ultimately at play.

We can make sure we fulfill our duties in line with dharma, helping others when necessary while acknowledging Krishna’s control over the bigger picture.

Not taking care of things is not dependence on Krishna. Bhakti, you could say, has two aspects: dependence on Krishna and diligence for Krishna. Normally, we think of surrender to Krishna or devotion to Krishna in terms of Draupadi raising her hands in surrender, saying, “Krishna, you protect me.” That’s true, but that’s only one form of surrender.

The Bhagavad Gita concludes with a call for surrender. In Chapter 18, Verse 66, Krishna tells us to surrender to Him. In Chapter 17, Arjuna agrees to surrender to Krishna, but at the end of the Gita, Arjuna raises his hands in surrender—yet, he also picks up his bow, ready to fight, because his service there is to fight. Arjuna is trained as an archer and must act in accordance with his duty.

So, Arjuna’s surrender is seen through his diligence for Krishna. There is both dependence on Krishna and diligence for Krishna, and through both, we express our devotion to Him.

For example, about 20 years ago, when I first started giving classes, one devotee made a list of guidelines on how to speak for Krishna. The last point on the list was “Depend on Krishna,” with the note that dependence on Krishna comes only after you have prepared. If I don’t prepare for a class and then claim I’m depending on Krishna, that’s not true dependence—it’s irresponsibility.

So before giving a class, I need to be diligent in preparing as well as I can. Then, if after the class someone asks me a question I don’t know the answer to, I have to depend on Krishna to help me answer, because I can’t foresee every question.

In this way, we can divide things into two broad categories: there are things we have control over, and things we don’t. For the things we have control over, there is diligence for Krishna, and for the things we don’t, there is dependence on Krishna.

Now, if someone under our guidance is making mistakes, it’s important to step in. For example, if we have a child who is small, say 2, 3, or 4 years old, we need to tell them, “Don’t do this.” Of course, we can explain things to them in a kind way, but when they are that young, we have to exert control. As they grow older, say when they become teenagers, our control over them decreases.

I remember seeing a book at the Chicago airport called Where Did My Child Go? I initially thought it was a book about kidnapping, but it was actually a parenting book. The premise was that when the child turns into a teenager, they become uncommunicative, distant, and very different from the sweet child they once were. The book asks, “Where did my child go?”

So, when children are small, we have diligence for them, but as they grow older, our dependence on Krishna increases because our control over them lessens. There’s a saying by Mark Twain: “When I was 15, my father was a fool. Now that I’m 25, I’m amazed at how much the old guy has learned in the last 10 years.” Obviously, the father has not suddenly become wiser, but the child has grown up and changed his perspective.

Sometimes, when we try to control others, it can backfire. If we become too controlling, the person might become resentful or hateful. In some cases, we must let people make mistakes so that they can learn from them. Where there is affection, there will always be expectation. But love should not be conditional on the fulfillment of that expectation.

This means we should love them regardless of whether they follow our advice. If we don’t make our love conditional on them doing what we tell them to do, the relationship will continue to be healthy. If they later realize their mistake, they will come back and reconnect with us. However, if we insist that our way is the only right way and push them too hard, they might not return, even if they realize we were right.

Sometimes, we must protect people from making mistakes, but other times, we have to protect our relationship with them by allowing them to make those mistakes and learn from them. Whether we choose diligence for Krishna or dependence on Krishna depends on the situation, time, and place.

Thank you very much.

Shri Prabhupada ki Jai! Gaurav Bhaktavinda ki Jai! Jai Itai Gaur Premanande! Shri Prabhupada ki Jai!