Dr. Saumitra Mohan, IAS

 

 Unravelling the Law of Karma and Human Suffering

Creation, as contemplated in the depths of Hindu philosophical thought, is not an act

compelled by necessity, nor an outcome of any deficiency in the Divine, but rather a

spontaneous and joyous expression of infinite fullness. The ancient seers of the Upanishads

captured this mystery in the profound utterance “एकोऽहम् बहुस्याम्”—“I am One; may I

become many.” This declaration does not signify a desire born of a limitation, but an

overflow of completeness, an urge of bliss (ānanda) to manifest, to express, and to

experience itself in manifold forms. The Supreme Reality, self-contained and perfect, projects

the universe out of what may be described as a “desireless desire,” a movement within

stillness, a play within perfection. Thus begins the cosmic drama—the līlā—in which the One

appears as many, without ever ceasing to be One.

In this grand manifestation, the individual soul, or jīvātman, emerges as a reflection of

the Supreme Consciousness, the Paramātman. Each soul is, in essence, divine, eternal, and

unbounded. Yet, upon entering the realm of nature (prakṛti), it becomes veiled by māyā, the

mysterious power that makes the unreal appear real and the eternal seem transient. This

veiling does not alter the true nature of the soul, but obscures it, much like clouds conceal the

sun without diminishing its brilliance. The soul, under the influence of māyā, begins to

identify itself with the body, the mind, and the senses. It assumes limitations that do not

belong to it and becomes entangled in the web of dualities—pleasure and pain, success and

failure, love and loss.

This identification is the root of human suffering. The eternal, mistaking itself for the

ephemeral, becomes subject to fear, attachment, and sorrow. Like an actor who becomes so

engrossed in his role that he forgets his true identity, the soul loses awareness of its divine

origin and becomes bound to the narrative of worldly existence. The Bhagavad Gita

repeatedly reminds us that the Self is unborn, undying, and indestructible, yet due to

ignorance (avidyā), we experience ourselves as limited beings, vulnerable to change and

decay.

Human birth, in this cosmic unfolding, is of immense significance. It is regarded in

Hindu thought as a rare and precious opportunity, for it is only in the human form that the

faculties of discrimination (viveka) and free will are fully developed. These faculties enable

the individual to question, to reflect, and ultimately to transcend the limitations imposed by

ignorance. Man is not merely a passive participant in the cosmic drama; he is endowed with

the power to shape his destiny. He can either remain bound to the cycle of birth and death

(saṃsāra) or strive toward liberation (mokṣa).

However, this freedom also carries with it the possibility of error. The misuse of free

will leads to actions that bind the soul further, while its proper use leads to liberation. Many

souls, enchanted by the attractions of the material world, become deeply attached to their

roles and forget their true purpose. They seek fulfillment in transient pleasures, only to find

themselves caught in cycles of desire and dissatisfaction. This condition is poignantly

described in the scriptures as a state of forgetfulness, where the soul, though inherently

divine, lives as though it were merely a finite being.

The presence of evil and suffering in the world often raises questions about the nature

of the Divine. If God is all-good and all-powerful, why does evil exist? Hindu philosophy

offers a nuanced response to this question. Rather than attributing evil to God, it sees it as an

integral part of the experiential world, serving a deeper purpose. Evil provides the necessary

contrast that allows us to recognize and appreciate goodness. Without darkness, light would

have no meaning; without sorrow, joy would lose its significance. Just as a painting requires

both light and shadow to reveal its depth, life requires a spectrum of experiences to unfold its

richness.

Moreover, the world is often compared to a dramatic performance or a moving

picture. A compelling drama cannot consist solely of pleasant scenes; it must include conflict,

tension, and resolution. The presence of opposing forces—good and evil, virtue and

vice—creates the dynamic interplay that makes life meaningful. In this sense, evil becomes a

part of the divine play, not as an end in itself, but as a means of awakening the soul. It serves

to disillusion us with the fleeting nature of worldly pleasures and redirects our attention

toward the eternal.

Underlying this entire framework is the immutable law of karma, the principle of

cause and effect that governs all actions. According to this law, every thought, word, and

deed produces a corresponding result. This is not a system of reward and punishment

administered by an external authority, but a natural law that operates with perfect justice and

impartiality. God, in His infinite compassion, does not punish us; rather, we experience the

consequences of our own actions. In this sense, we are both the architects of our destiny and

the beneficiaries or sufferers of our own choices.

The doctrine of karma explains the apparent inequalities and injustices of life. What

we experience in the present is shaped not only by our current actions but also by those of

past lives. Thus, suffering is not arbitrary, but meaningful. It is the unfolding of past causes,

offering us an opportunity to learn, to grow, and to evolve. The Upanishadic insight “यथा कर्म

यथा श्रुतम्”—“As one acts, so one becomes”—captures this profound truth.

Suffering, therefore, is not merely a burden to be endured, but a teacher to be

understood. For those who are willing to learn, it becomes a powerful force for

transformation. It compels introspection, fosters humility, and awakens a deeper quest for

truth. However, for those who resist or resent it, suffering can become a source of bitterness

and despair. The difference lies not in the nature of the experience, but in the attitude with

which it is approached. The Bhagavad Gita advises us to cultivate equanimity, to remain

steady in both pleasure and pain, recognizing their transient nature and their role in our

spiritual evolution.

In this journey, the role of religion is not merely to provide comfort or to prescribe

rituals, but to offer a systematic path toward the cessation of suffering and the realization of

eternal bliss. True religion, in the Hindu sense, is a science of the soul. It encompasses

various disciplines—ethical living, self-control, meditation, devotion, and knowledge—all

aimed at purifying the mind and awakening the inner consciousness. Through these practices,

the individual gradually transcends the limitations of the ego and realizes his unity with the

Divine.

An important aspect of this realization is the understanding of the mind’s role in

creating and perpetuating suffering. While physical pain may be unavoidable, much of our

suffering is psychological, arising from identification, attachment, and resistance. Children

and animals, whose minds are less conditioned and less identified with the body, often

experience pain in a simpler, more direct manner. In contrast, adults, burdened by memory,

anticipation, and ego, amplify their suffering through mental constructs. By mastering the

mind through meditation and self-awareness, one can reduce and even transcend this

suffering.

At the heart of all spiritual teachings lies the principle of divine love. God’s love is

unconditional, embracing all beings as expressions of Himself. This love is not merely

emotional, but transformative. It seeks to elevate the soul, to guide it toward its highest

potential. One who truly loves God begins to see His presence in all beings. Such a person

cannot harbour hatred or ill will, for to harm another is to harm oneself as we are all children

of the same God, made in his own image and part of an indivisible larger consciousness. The

vision of unity dissolves all divisions, giving rise to compassion, forgiveness, and selfless

service. The ideal of “वसुधैव कुटुम्बकम्”—the world as one family—becomes a living reality.

Death, which is often feared as the end of existence, is understood in Hindu

philosophy as a natural and necessary transition in the soul’s journey. It is not a termination,

but a transformation. Just as a person discards worn-out garments and puts on new ones, the

soul leaves behind an old body and takes on a new one. Natural death is likened to the falling

of a ripe fruit, effortless and timely, while premature death may involve resistance due to

unfulfilled desires and attachments. Yet, even in such cases, the journey continues, guided by

the law of karma.

However, on death, we begin anew, forgetting the irrelevant details from the past lives

and carrying forward only the relevant, dominant tendencies. The forgetting of past lives is,

in fact, a profound blessing. It allows the soul to begin anew, unburdened by the weight of

past sorrows, failures, and attachments. Imagine the confusion and emotional turmoil that

would arise if one were to carry the full memory of multiple lifetimes into the present. This

veil of forgetfulness enables fresh experiences, new relationships, and renewed efforts toward

growth. However, the lessons of the past are not lost; they are carried forward as tendencies

(saṃskāras), subtly influencing our thoughts and actions.

Through repeated cycles of birth and death, the soul gradually evolves, learning from

its experiences and moving closer to its true nature. It seeks permanence in a world of

impermanence and eventually realizes that lasting fulfillment cannot be found in the

transient. The journey of the soul is, therefore, a quest for its own source, a return to the unity

from which it emerged. Narrow attachments and limited identities must eventually give way

to a universal vision, in which all beings are recognized as manifestations of the same Divine

Reality.

Thus, this world may be seen as a vast and intricate laboratory, a field of experience

where the soul is tested, refined, and awakened. Through the fire of life’s challenges, the

impurities of ignorance are burned away, revealing the pure gold of divine consciousness.

Every experience, whether joyful or painful, contributes to this process of transformation.

Nothing is wasted; everything has a purpose in the grand design.

In the final analysis, life is not a meaningless sequence of events, but a deeply

purposeful journey. It is a movement from ignorance to knowledge, from bondage to

freedom, from multiplicity to unity. When the soul finally realizes its true nature, it

transcends the cycle of birth and death and abides in the eternal bliss of the Spirit. The drama

of life continues, but the realized soul is no longer bound by it. It becomes a witness, a

participant in the divine play, fully aware of its unity with the Supreme, and established in a

state of unshakable peace and joy.

 Understanding the Divine by Expanding Our Consciousness

The human quest to understand God and the purpose of existence has occupied the

deepest layers of philosophical inquiry, particularly within the rich traditions of Hindu

thought. Yet, one of the first realizations that emerges from this inquiry is that God cannot be

grasped merely through intellectual reasoning. Logic and analysis, though valuable in

navigating the material world, fall short when applied to the Infinite. The Divine, by its very

nature, transcends the limitations of human thought. Therefore, to truly realize God, one must

go beyond the restless activity of the mind and enter a higher state of awareness—one that is

intuitive, direct, and experiential.

This higher awareness is often described as universal consciousness, a state in which

the individual recognizes that the essence within oneself is not separate from the essence that

pervades the entire cosmos. The sages have long illustrated this truth through simple yet

profound metaphors: just as small waves and large waves arise from the same ocean, so do all

beings arise from the same Divine Reality. Differences exist only in appearance; in essence,

everything is a manifestation of the same infinite Spirit. To perceive this truth is to awaken

from the illusion of separateness.

However, such realization is not easily attained. The human mind, conditioned by

sensory experiences and habitual patterns of thought, is limited in its capacity to comprehend

the Infinite. Attempting to contain God within the narrow confines of ordinary consciousness

is like trying to hold the ocean in a small cup. The cup must be expanded. Similarly, human

faculties—attention, concentration, intuition—must be refined and enlarged to receive even a

glimpse of the Divine. This expansion of consciousness is the essence of spiritual practice.

At the root of human limitation lies ignorance—the fundamental error of identifying

oneself with the body and ego rather than with the soul. This ignorance is regarded in Hindu

philosophy as the greatest of all sins, not in a moralistic sense, but as a state of misperception.

The soul, though inherently infinite, assumes finitude by identifying with the temporary. It

forgets its divine origin and begins to live as though it were bound by birth, death, pleasure,

and pain. Yet, the scriptures affirm that all souls were originally created alike, in the image of

the Divine. As mortal beings, we are expressions of God’s creation; as realized beings, we

recognize ourselves as participants in His very nature, endowed with creative power and

spiritual sovereignty.

Every human being, therefore, is an expression of an immeasurable and infinite

consciousness. We are not isolated entities, but receivers of the subtle “broadcasts” of

universal laws that govern existence. Just as a radio receives signals when tuned to the proper

frequency, so too can the human mind receive higher truths when it is attuned through

discipline and awareness. The divinity that we seek outside lies dormant within us, awaiting

awakening. To realize it, we must expand the powers of the mind, refine our awareness, and

awaken our intuitive faculties.

As children of the Divine, we are endowed with extraordinary gifts—freedom of will,

the power of reason, and the capacity for conscious action. These gifts place upon us both a

privilege and a responsibility. We are not meant to live in narrow selfishness or to remain

confined within limited identities. The purpose of life is to experience the cosmic drama and

then rise above it, returning to our source with expanded consciousness. Yet, many of us

become so attached to the “movie house” of the world that we forget it is only a temporary

stage.

The challenge, therefore, is to live in the world without becoming bound by it. This

requires evenness of mind—a state of inner balance that remains undisturbed by changing

circumstances. From the standpoint of the soul, no individual is inherently greater or lesser

than another. All are expressions of the same Divine Reality, differing only in the degree of

awareness. The analogy of the fly and the honeybee offer a striking insight: the fly is attracted

indiscriminately to both filth and sweetness, while the honeybee seeks only the fragrance of

flowers. Similarly, the human mind, when unrefined, becomes entangled in both negativity

and positivity, but when purified, it learns to seek only that which uplifts and ennobles.

Despite its involvement in the material world, the soul itself remains untouched and

unchanged. Its essential nature is pure, eternal, and luminous. However, through the influence

of māyā, it becomes subjectively identified with change and mortality. Spiritual evolution is

the process by which this identification is gradually dissolved, and the soul reawakens to its

true nature. When this awakening occurs, the individual realizes that to know God is to know

everything, for God is the source and substance of all that exists.

The path to such realization lies in meditation—a disciplined practice that enables the

mind to withdraw from external distractions and merge with the inner consciousness.

Meditation is not merely a technique but a doorway, the one portal through which every

seeker must pass to experience the Divine directly. In meditation, the mind becomes calm,

concentrated, and expansive. It shifts its focus from the ever-changing phenomena of life to

the changeless reality that underlies them. In this stillness, the individual begins to experience

a state of completeness, where desires are fulfilled not by external acquisition but by inner

realization.

The practice of yoga, particularly Rāja Yoga, provides a systematic method for this

inner transformation. Yoga, in its truest sense, means union—the merging of individual

consciousness with universal consciousness. It is both a science and an art, offering step-by-

step techniques for mastering the body, controlling the mind, and awakening intuition.

Contrary to common misconceptions, yoga does not advocate withdrawal from action.

Rather, it teaches the art of right action—acting with awareness, detachment, and dedication

to the Divine. One who performs actions without attachment to their results, offering them to

God, is considered a true yogi.

Closely allied with yoga is the philosophy of Vedanta, which describes the ultimate

nature of reality and the unity of all existence. Vedanta declares that everything is Brahman,

the infinite Spirit, and that the apparent duality between matter and spirit is an illusion created

by māyā. However, Vedantic knowledge is not merely intellectual; it must be realized through

direct experience. Without the discipline of yoga to purify the mind and awaken intuition, the

truths of Vedanta remain abstract and inaccessible.

The Sāṅkhya philosophy complements this understanding by analyzing the nature of

suffering and its causes. It teaches that human suffering arises from the misidentification of

the self with the body and mind, and that true religion lies in the complete eradication of this

suffering. It urges the individual to seek a higher path, beyond temporary remedies, toward

permanent freedom.

In this journey, even doubt plays a constructive role. The ability to question is

essential for growth, for it prevents blind acceptance and encourages deeper inquiry.

However, it must be understood that ultimate truths cannot be grasped by the sensory mind or

the intellect alone. While the intellect can interpret phenomena, it cannot comprehend the

underlying reality—the noumenon or abstract reality. For that, one must rely on direct

experience, gained through meditation and inner realization.

Ethical transformation is equally important in this process. True spirituality does not

lie in self-centred pursuits, but in expanding one’s sense of identity to include others. There is

a form of selfishness that seeks personal comfort at the expense of others, and there is a

higher, sacred selfishness that finds joy in the happiness of others. To feel the suffering of

others and to act for their welfare is to align oneself with the Divine. Emotions such as anger,

hatred, and desire are not to be suppressed blindly, but transformed—like a skilled chemist

converting raw substances into useful compounds—into forces that serve constructive and

compassionate ends.

Detachment from the body and its limitations is another essential aspect of spiritual

growth. This does not mean neglecting the body, but transcending identification with it.

Through mental discipline, concentration, and the withdrawal of attention from the senses,

one can rise above bodily consciousness and experience the vastness of the spirit. This state

of inner renunciation can be achieved even while living in the midst of society. One need not

flee to the mountains or forests; the true hermitage is within. A person who has attained self-

control can remain inwardly detached and spiritually-centred even in the busiest

environments.

In this light, renunciation is not an end in itself, but a means to an end—the realization

of God. The true renunciant is not one who abandons the world outwardly, but one who lives

for the Divine inwardly, performing all actions with a sense of dedication and service. Any

activity, no matter how ordinary, becomes a means of liberation when performed with the

consciousness of God and for the welfare of others.

Human life, therefore, is not meant to be lived unconsciously, driven solely by instinct

and habit. To live without introspection is to remain at the level of animal existence. True

emancipation lies in the destruction of ignorance through wisdom—both the wisdom gained

through reasoning and the higher wisdom gained through direct contact with the Spirit.

Many of our latent faculties remain dormant simply because they are not exercised.

The human being possesses immense potential—intuitive, mental, and spiritual—that can be

awakened through conscious effort. Even subtle interactions, such as human contact, are

believed to involve the exchange of energies or “magnetism.” The influence of individuals

with strong, positive consciousness can uplift others, just as the vibrations of spiritually

advanced beings can be felt even from a distance through deep meditation.

Ultimately, the journey of life is a movement toward the expansion of

consciousness—a gradual awakening from limitation to infinity. To understand God’s drama

is not merely to observe it, but to participate in it consciously, to grow through it, and finally

to transcend it. When the individual realizes his unity with the Infinite, the search comes to an

end. What remains is not a separate self-striving toward God, but the realization that one has

always been a part of that infinite, blissful, and all-pervading Reality.

 Reincarnations Help Our Spiritual Evolution

Life, as envisioned in the profound traditions of Hindu philosophy, is neither a

random unfolding of events nor a purposeless drift through time; it is a vast, meticulously

structured school in which every experience—whether sweet or bitter—serves as a lesson for

the gradual evolution of the soul. The ancient seers perceived existence as inherently

educative. Nothing that happens to us is without meaning. Every joy refines our sensitivity,

every sorrow deepens our understanding, every challenge tests our strength, and every

relationship reveals some hidden dimension of our own being. In this grand design, the

universe itself becomes the classroom, time the silent instructor, and the soul the eternal

student moving from ignorance to wisdom.

Within this cosmic school, individuals stand at different levels of learning. Some

absorb life’s lessons with awareness and humility, transforming experience into insight and

compassion. Others, however, resist or misunderstand these lessons, driven by ignorance,

ego, or attachment, and, thus, find themselves repeating the same patterns of suffering. Hindu

thought often draws an analogy with a student: one who fails to pass an examination must

return to the same class until the subject is mastered. Similarly, the soul, when it fails to

assimilate the lessons of a particular stage of existence, must return again and again to the

cycle of birth and death—saṃsāra—until it grows in understanding.

Reincarnation, therefore, is not to be seen as a punishment, but as a continuation of an

unfinished education. It is an expression of divine compassion, allowing the soul repeated

opportunities to learn, to evolve, and to ultimately realize its true nature. The Bhagavad Gita

offers a deeply reassuring insight when it declares that no effort on the path of growth is ever

lost; even a little progress carries forward into future lives. The soul advances gradually, life

after life, passing through different “grades” of physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual

development, until it earns the ultimate “diploma” of perfection—mokṣa, liberation from all

limitations and the realization of its unity with the Supreme.

At the root of this repeated return lies the subtle but powerful force of desire. Desires

are not merely fleeting wishes; they are formative energies that shape the trajectory of the

soul’s journey. Every desire leaves behind an impression, a saṃskāra, which seeks

fulfillment. When desires remain unfulfilled at the end of a lifetime, they create a momentum

that draws the soul back into embodiment. Thus, reincarnation is propelled not by an external

force, but by the inner continuity of one’s own tendencies and longings. As long as desires

persist, the cycle continues; when they are understood, transcended, or fulfilled in wisdom,

the cycle begins to loosen its hold.

Yet, even as the soul undergoes this long process of learning and fulfillment, it is

simultaneously participating in what Hindu thought beautifully describes as a divine

drama—līlā. The world is a stage, and each individual is an actor entrusted with a specific

role. Some roles appear prominent and powerful, others modest and seemingly insignificant,

but each is indispensable to the harmony of the whole. The value of a role does not lie in its

outward grandeur, but in the sincerity, awareness, and excellence with which it is performed.

This insight finds clear expression in the teaching of svadharma (one’s own duty) in

the Bhagavad Gita. One is advised to perform one’s own duty, however humble, rather than

imitate another’s role, however glorious it may appear. A drama cannot function if every

actor insists on playing the king or the hero; it requires a diversity of roles to create coherence

and meaning. Likewise, life becomes harmonious when each individual accepts and performs

his or her unique role with dedication, without envy or comparison. Even a minor role, if

performed poorly, can disrupt the entire production, while a seemingly small contribution,

performed with excellence, can elevate the whole.

To live with this understanding is to transform life into a conscious participation in the

divine play. One acts wholeheartedly, yet remains inwardly unattached to the outcomes.

Success and failure, praise and criticism, gain and loss are seen as parts of the script rather

than measures of one’s true worth. The wise individual performs his duties with cheerfulness

and sincerity, without wishing to exchange roles with another, recognizing that each path is

uniquely suited to the soul’s growth.

At a deeper level, the individuality that each person expresses in this life is not an

isolated or accidental phenomenon. It is shaped by a complex interplay of

influences—heredity, family environment, cultural context, geographical conditions, and,

most significantly, the accumulated tendencies from past lives. Hindu philosophy offers a

remarkably integrated view of human personality, acknowledging both the visible and

invisible factors that shape our existence. The conditions into which we are born are not

arbitrary; they are the natural outcomes of past actions, providing the most appropriate

circumstances for further learning and growth.

The intuitive observation that “the story of one’s life is written in the eyes” reflects

this deeper continuity. Behind the surface personality lies a vast, unspoken history—a record

of experiences, struggles, achievements, and aspirations carried across lifetimes. This history

is not consciously accessible in its entirety, for such a burden would overwhelm the mind.

Imagine carrying within oneself the full memory of countless lives—the joys, the losses, the

relationships, the regrets; the mind would be crowded beyond endurance, leaving little room

for clarity or peace.

Nature, in its profound wisdom, veils this vast storehouse of memory, allowing only

selective recall. This selective memory is not a limitation but a compassionate provision,

enabling us to function effectively in the present while still benefiting from the distilled

essence of past experiences. The deeper impressions, however, are never lost. They reside in

the subconscious as saṃskāras, subtly influencing our thoughts, preferences, habits, and

emotional responses. What we call character is, to a large extent, the expression of these

accumulated impressions.

Thus, our natural inclinations—our talents, our fears, our attractions, and

aversions—are not random occurrences. They are the unfolding of a long evolutionary

journey. A person who displays innate kindness or wisdom may have cultivated these

qualities over many lives; another who struggles with anger, attachment, or confusion may be

working through deeply rooted patterns. In this sense, life becomes a continuous process of

self-unfoldment and evolution, where each moment offers an opportunity to refine these

tendencies and move toward greater awareness.

Despite this continuity, the presence of free will ensures that the future is not rigidly

determined by the past. While past actions shape our present circumstances, our response to

those circumstances remains within our control. At every moment, we are faced with a

choice: to reinforce old patterns or to transcend them. This dynamic interplay between past

conditioning and present freedom lies at the heart of human growth. It affirms both the justice

of the cosmic order and the possibility of transformation.

Ultimately, the aim of this long and intricate process is not merely to accumulate

experiences, but to transcend them—to realize one’s true nature as the Self, beyond all

limitations. When this realization dawns, the need for further schooling comes to an end. The

soul, having learned its lessons and exhausted its desires, is no longer compelled to return. It

attains mokṣa, a state of freedom, peace, and unbroken awareness of its unity with the Divine.

Until that realization is attained, life continues to unfold as both a school and a stage.

Every experience becomes a lesson; every role becomes an opportunity for expression and

growth. One who understands this begins to live with a sense of purpose and acceptance.

Complaints give way to curiosity, envy gives way to self-fulfillment, and resistance gives

way to learning. One begins to see that nothing is trivial, that every moment contributes to the

unfolding of a greater destiny.

In this integrated vision, the metaphors of the classroom and the stage converge into a

single, profound understanding of existence. We are at once students learning from

experience and actors participating in a divine drama. The lessons we learn refine our

performance, and the roles we play provide the context for our learning. When both are

approached with awareness, sincerity, and detachment, life itself becomes a path to liberation.

The journey, then, is from unconscious participation to conscious realization—from being

lost in the role to recognizing the actor, and finally to realizing the One who is both the actor

and the witness of the entire play. In that realization, all distinctions dissolve, all lessons are

fulfilled, and the soul abides in its original state of freedom, wisdom, and bliss.