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Ashtavakra Gita Chapter 3

aṣṭāvakra gītā is a 20-chapter dialogue of uncompromising advaita, where aṣṭāvakra's terse instructions and janaka's responses repeatedly circle one liberation: you are the awareness that knows experience, not the body-mind that is experienced. The text is famous for its directness - it often speaks from the standpoint of freedom and then asks you to notice, again and again, how bondage is only the habit of identification.

In the previous chapters, the foundation and the first recognition are laid. Chapter 1 begins with janaka's questions about jñāna, mukti, and vairāgya, and aṣṭāvakra responds by pairing ethical steadiness with direct inquiry into the witness (sākṣī). Chapter 2 then becomes janaka's "afterglow" chapter: he declares the non-dual vision through metaphors (wave-water, pot-clay, rope-snake) and loosens ownership and fear by seeing the world as appearance in awareness rather than a second reality.

Chapter 3 reads like a compassionate "reality check" after that soaring clarity. Once non-dual insight dawns, the mind may quickly turn it into a new identity ("I am enlightened now"), a new bargain ("I know the Self, so I can indulge"), or a quiet fear ("If this freedom is real, what happens to me?"). aṣṭāvakra addresses these subtle after-effects directly. Many verses begin with āścharyaṃ ("how strange!") - not to mock the seeker, but to expose the odd ways desire and identity can survive even after understanding. The spotlight falls on "residual knots": craving for wealth, fascination with sense pleasure, the persistence of mamatva, and even fear of liberation itself.

The next movement of the text continues this maturation. In Chapter 4, janaka speaks again, describing how freedom looks in ordinary living: enjoyment without compulsion, steadiness without pride, and fearlessness without denial. From Chapter 5 onward, the dialogue keeps turning the same truth from different sides: aṣṭāvakra urges laya (dissolution of identification), janaka replies that for one established in truth there is "no giving up and no grasping", and later chapters offer crisp definitions of bondage and liberation as movements of mind rather than realities of the Self.

Seen as a whole, Chapter 3 is a diagnostic chapter meant to convert insight into character. It asks, repeatedly, why the mind still runs as if poor after knowing the imperishable Self; it points to projection and superimposition as the hidden engine of craving; and it insists that freedom includes vāsanā-weakening, not merely philosophical agreement. This aligns with the bhagavad gītā's portrait of sthita-prajñā and with ādi śaṅkarāchārya's insistence on vivēka and vairāgya as supports for steady knowledge: when grasping and fear fall away, the same non-dual truth that was glimpsed becomes stable, simple, and fearless in life.

aṣṭāvakra uvācha ॥
avināśinamātmānamēkaṃ vijñāya tattvataḥ ।
tavātmajñānasya dhīrasya kathamarthārjanē ratiḥ ॥ 3-1॥

Meaning (padārtha):
aṣṭāvakraḥ - the sage Ashtavakra
uvācha - said
avināśinam - imperishable; indestructible
ātmānaṃ - the Self
ēkam - one; non-dual
vijñāya - having known; realizing
tattvataḥ - in truth; as it really is
tava - your
ātma-jñānasya - of one who knows the Self
dhīrasya - of the steady one; the wise
kathaṃ - how?
artha-arjanē - in acquiring wealth/means
ratiḥ - delight; attachment

Translation (bhāvārtha):
Ashtavakra said: If you have truly known the one, imperishable Self, how can a steady, Self-knowing person still delight in acquiring wealth?

Commentary (anusandhāna):
aṣṭāvakra is not condemning wealth; he is probing attachment. Wealth is a tool in life, but the craving for wealth is usually a craving for psychological security: "If I have enough, I will finally be safe; I will finally be respected; I will finally be whole." Self-knowledge undercuts that bargain because it reveals the Self as already complete and imperishable. If the deepest security is found in the Self, then obsession with accumulation begins to look strange, like a person drinking salt water to quench thirst.

This verse also distinguishes knowledge from maturity. People can understand Advaita intellectually while still living from fear and desire. The gItA calls this the difference between seeing and being established: the mind can assent to truth while habits pull it elsewhere. dhīra here means more than smart; it means steady - not easily shaken into compulsive chasing. When this steadiness grows, wealth becomes a means, not an identity, and generosity becomes natural because the need to hoard for self-worth reduces.

Practice by examining what "more money" is really meant to solve. Is it genuine responsibility (education, health, stability), or is it fear of being small and unsafe? Name the underlying fear in plain words, and feel it in the body; then notice it is known in awareness and therefore not the Self. From that steadiness, make your relationship with money clean: budget, pay what you owe, earn honestly, and spend with intention rather than compulsion. Try one small experiment in non-hoarding: give a small amount, share time or knowledge, or help without announcing it, and watch how the ego relaxes when worth is not tied to accumulation. If ambition arises, convert it into responsibility: "How can I serve well and be sustainable?" not "How can I prove I am enough?" Over time, wealth becomes a tool rather than a substitute for inner security, and the verse's question becomes lived: the pull to chase reduces because completeness is sought in the Self, not in numbers.

ātmājñānādahō prītirviṣayabhramagōcharē ।
śuktērajñānatō lōbhō yathā rajatavibhramē ॥ 3-2॥

Meaning (padārtha):
ātma-ajñānāt - from ignorance of the Self
ahō - ah! wonder!
prītiḥ - fondness; attachment
viṣaya-bhrama-gōcharē - in the realm of mistaken sense-objects
śuktēḥ - of nacre (mother-of-pearl)
ajñānataḥ - from ignorance
lōbhaḥ - greed
yathā - just as
rajata-vibhramē - in the illusion of silver

Translation (bhāvārtha):
Ah! From ignorance of the Self arises attachment to the world of sense-objects and their illusions - just as greed arises from not knowing nacre and mistaking it for silver.

Commentary (anusandhāna):
This verse explains why attachment can feel so convincing: it is built on mis-seeing. In the nacre-silver illusion, the eyes see something shiny and the mind adds "silver". The greed is for the mind's addition, not for the reality. Similarly, we see sensations, people, and situations and the mind adds: "this will complete me", "this will destroy me", "this will define me". The chase is usually for the added story, not for the bare fact. aṣṭāvakra is pointing to the root: Self-ignorance makes the mind seek wholeness in objects.

This mechanism operates in modern life as "projection". A promotion becomes salvation, a relationship becomes identity, a purchase becomes comfort, a social-media image becomes self-worth. When the promised wholeness does not arrive, we assume we chose the wrong object and we chase a new one. Advaita says the problem is not the object; it is the mistaken location of fulfillment. When the Self is known as the stable ground of being, objects can be enjoyed without being used as psychological substitutes.

Practice by tracing desire back to its claim. When craving arises, ask, "What is the mind promising?" Often it is, "If I get this, then I will be okay." Write the promise in one sentence, then check: is the promise actually about the object, or about inner lack - safety, love, worth, relief? Feel the urge in the body without rushing; notice it is an appearance in awareness, not the Self. Take two breaths as the witness and let the urgency soften. Then decide with clarity: if the object is genuinely useful, pursue it responsibly; if it is only a psychological substitute, let the craving burn out without feeding it. Train this on small cravings (shopping, scrolling, reassurance-seeking) so it becomes available for bigger ones. Over time, you learn to enjoy objects without turning them into saviors, and the mind gradually stops mistaking "nacre" for "silver."

viśvaṃ sphurati yatrēdaṃ taraṅgā iva sāgarē ।
sō'hamasmīti vijñāya kiṃ dīna iva dhāvasi ॥ 3-3॥

Meaning (padārtha):
viśvaṃ - universe; world
sphurati - appears; shines; vibrates
yatra - where; in which
idaṃ - this
taraṅgāḥ - waves
iva - like
sāgarē - in the ocean
saḥ aham - I am That
asmi - I am
iti - thus
vijñāya - having known
kiṃ - why?
dīnaḥ - miserable; poor; helpless
iva - like
dhāvasi - you run

Translation (bhāvārtha):
In you the world appears like waves in the ocean. Knowing "I am That", why do you still run about as if you were helpless and poor?

Commentary (anusandhāna):
The verse confronts the mismatch between insight and behavior. If you truly recognize that experiences are waves in awareness, then frantic chasing begins to look irrational. The mind runs because it feels poor: poor in worth, poor in security, poor in love. It tries to fix that poverty through movement - acquiring, proving, escaping. aṣṭāvakra is saying: the poverty is a mistaken identity. The Self is not lacking; only the ego-image is.

This is not a call to become inactive. It is a call to stop acting from desperation. When you act from the witness, action becomes cleaner: you do what is needed without turning it into a referendum on your existence. In the gItA, this shows up as acting without being bound by results. In Advaita, it shows up as acting without being bound by self-image. The wave still moves, but it knows it is water.

Practice by watching the "run" impulse in small everyday moments. Notice how often you hurry unnecessarily: rushing to respond, rushing to fix, rushing to be liked, rushing to prove competence. When you catch it, pause and ask, "What am I afraid will happen if I do not run?" Usually it is an identity fear: "I will be judged", "I will be left", "I will lose control." Feel that fear in the body and remember the wave-ocean teaching: the fear is a wave, not the ocean. Return to awareness for two breaths and let the shoulders drop. Then take one appropriate step from clarity - reply, plan, apologize, rest - without the frantic inner squeeze. You can train this by choosing one "slow action" a day: walk without rushing, eat without multitasking, wait before responding in chat. Over time, the body learns safety in stillness, and "I am That" becomes embodied rather than merely philosophical.

śrutvāpi śuddhachaitanya ātmānamatisundaram ।
upasthē'tyantasaṃsaktō mālinyamadhigachChati ॥ 3-4॥

Meaning (padārtha):
śrutvā api - even after hearing
śuddha-chaitanyam - pure consciousness
ātmānaṃ - the Self
ati-sundaram - exceedingly beautiful
upasthē - in sexual pleasure; in lust
atyanta-saṃsaktaḥ - extremely attached
mālinyam - impurity; stain; tainting
adhigachChati - reaches; falls into

Translation (bhāvārtha):
Even after hearing that the Self is pure consciousness and supremely beautiful, one who becomes intensely attached to lust falls into impurity.

Commentary (anusandhāna):
This verse is not prudish; it is psychological. aṣṭāvakra is pointing to the way obsession stains the mind. Pleasure itself is not the issue; compulsive attachment is. When the mind is "extremely attached", it loses freedom: it lies, bargains, manipulates, and becomes restless. That restlessness is mālinya - not moral dirt, but inner turbulence and dependence. The verse is saying: if you have really heard the teaching, do not trade your freedom for compulsion.

The phrase ati-sundara is important. The Self is described as beautiful not as an object of desire, but as the deepest wholeness that does not disappoint. Lust tries to extract that wholeness from a momentary sensation. When it cannot, it demands more, and dissatisfaction grows. Advaita invites a reversal: enjoy life without trying to make pleasure into the meaning of existence. When the Self is tasted as already full, cravings become less tyrannical.

Practice by noticing the difference between enjoyment and compulsion. Enjoyment can coexist with dignity, truthfulness, and care for others; compulsion makes you smaller and less free. When desire arises, ask, "Is this clean and kind, or is it a grasp?" Check signs: urgency, secrecy, bargaining, the willingness to harm or lie - these point to saṃsakti (binding attachment). If you see grasping, pause and let the body cool for a few breaths. Return to awareness and watch the desire as a wave; you will often find it peaks and passes if you do not feed it with fantasy. Then choose wisely: if the desire is appropriate and respectful, act with responsibility; if it is addictive, do not obey it immediately. You can also practice strengthening inner fullness: reduce inputs that inflame craving (explicit media, constant stimulation), and add simple steadiness (sleep, silence, honest conversation). Over time, desire becomes less binding, and the mind becomes capable of the deeper beauty the verse points to: inner freedom that is not bought by sensation.

sarvabhūtēṣu chātmānaṃ sarvabhūtāni chātmani ।
munērjānata āścharyaṃ mamatvamanuvartatē ॥ 3-5॥

Meaning (padārtha):
sarva-bhūtēṣu - in all beings
cha - and
ātmānaṃ - the Self
sarva-bhūtāni - all beings
cha - and
ātmani - in the Self
munēḥ - for the sage; for the wise one
jānataḥ - who knows
āścharyaṃ - it is strange; it is a wonder
mamatvam - possessiveness; "mine"-ness
anuvartatē - continues; follows along

Translation (bhāvārtha):
Even for one who knows the Self in all beings and all beings in the Self, it is strange that possessiveness - the sense of "mine" - can still continue.

Commentary (anusandhāna):
This verse is a subtle warning about mamatva: the quiet claim that makes life heavy. You may understand non-duality and still say, "my partner, my child, my status, my work, my opinion." The claim itself creates fear because "mine" implies "can be lost." It also creates control because "mine" implies "should behave as I want." aṣṭāvakra calls it strange because it contradicts the vision: if all beings are in the Self, what could be privately owned?

This is especially relevant in relationships. Love becomes painful when it is mixed with possession. Parents cling to children as extensions of ego; partners cling as sources of security; friends cling as mirrors of identity. Non-dual seeing does not remove love; it purifies it. When possessiveness reduces, love becomes more spacious: you can care deeply without gripping. The Upanishadic vision of one reality is meant to dissolve this fear-based clutching.

Practice by noticing where "mine" shows up as tension. When you feel controlling, jealous, or anxious, ask, "What am I trying to secure right now?" Usually it is a self-image: being needed, being special, being in control, being safe. Feel the gripping in the body and recognize it as mamatva in action. Return to awareness for two breaths and let the grip loosen before you speak or act. Then act from care rather than possession: set boundaries without hostility, support without manipulation, speak truth without needing to dominate. In relationships, try one concrete shift: replace "you must" with "I feel / I need / I request," and allow the other to be a person rather than a possession. Also practice letting small things go - letting someone do it their way, letting a plan change - as training. Each time you do this, mamatva weakens and love becomes cleaner, because it is less mixed with fear.

āsthitaḥ paramādvaitaṃ mōkṣārthē'pi vyavasthitaḥ ।
āścharyaṃ kāmavaśagō vikalaḥ kēliśikṣayā ॥ 3-6॥

Meaning (padārtha):
āsthitaḥ - established in; having taken refuge in
parama-advaitam - supreme non-duality
mōkṣa-arthē api - even for the sake of liberation
vyavasthitaḥ - firmly resolved; committed
āścharyaṃ - it is strange
kāma-vaśagaḥ - overpowered by desire
vikalaḥ - weakened; unsteady
kēli-śikṣayā - by training in amorous play; by the habit of pleasure-seeking

Translation (bhāvārtha):
Even one established in the highest non-duality and committed to liberation - it is strange if such a person is still overpowered by desire and weakened by habitual pleasure-seeking.

Commentary (anusandhāna):
The verse is highlighting a common spiritual contradiction: the mind can love truth in theory and still obey desire in practice. kēli-śikṣā suggests training - habit. Desire is often not a one-time temptation; it is a practiced groove. Even after insight, grooves can remain. That is why aṣṭāvakra calls it strange: not to shame you, but to show that liberation is not only a flash of insight; it also includes the unwinding of deeply conditioned habit patterns.

In contemporary terms, this is the difference between understanding and embodiment. Someone can speak beautifully about awareness and still be hijacked by craving, pornography, gambling, overeating, or attention addiction. The teaching is not "never enjoy"; it is "do not lose your freedom." Pleasure that is enjoyed consciously and cleanly can be part of life; pleasure that controls you makes you smaller. Non-dual wisdom aims for inner sovereignty, not repression.

Practice by working with habit honestly, without drama and without denial. Identify one desire-pattern that weakens you and be specific: what triggers it, what the mind promises, what you do, and what you feel afterward. Write this down once; clarity grows when the pattern is seen plainly. Then bring in both sides of the path: remembrance and discipline. Remembrance means returning to the witness when the urge arises and noticing, "This is a wave in awareness, not my identity." Discipline means changing the environment: reduce triggers, add friction, avoid late-night scrolling, keep the phone out of bed, seek support if needed. Also replace, not just remove: add one steadier nourishment (walk, silence, meaningful conversation) so the mind is not starving. The verse is inviting wholeness: let insight guide behavior so that the mind becomes steady enough to live what it knows, and freedom is not traded for habit.

udbhūtaṃ jñānadurmitramavadhāryātidurbalaḥ ।
āścharyaṃ kāmamākāṅkṣēt kālamantamanuśritaḥ ॥ 3-7॥

Meaning (padārtha):
udbhūtaṃ - arisen; emerged
jñāna-durmitram - the bad friend/enemy of knowledge (desire)
avadhārya - having understood; having ascertained
ati-durbalaḥ - extremely weak (physically/mentally)
āścharyaṃ - it is strange
kāmam - desire
ākāṅkṣēt - would desire; would long for
kāla-antam - the end of time; the end of life
anuśritaḥ - having approached; having reached

Translation (bhāvārtha):
Having understood that desire is the enemy of knowledge, it is strange that even one who is extremely weak and near the end of life would still long for desire.

Commentary (anusandhāna):
This verse is blunt because it is describing tragedy: the persistence of craving even when it clearly no longer serves. Near the end of life, when the body is weak and time is short, desire's promises look especially hollow - yet habit can still push the mind toward old cravings. jñāna-durmitra is a vivid phrase: desire pretends to be a friend ("I will make you happy"), but it undermines clarity by keeping attention outward and identity-bound.

You do not need to wait for old age to see this. Many of us notice the same pattern in smaller endings: after an argument, after a binge, after a burnout. We see clearly that the pattern harms us, and yet the next trigger arrives and we repeat. This verse is calling for sober honesty: insight without transformation is fragile. The teaching is urging you to cut the groove now, while strength and choice are available.

Practice by treating desire as a wave, not as a command. When it rises, do not immediately obey or suppress; give it space to be seen. Pause, breathe, and ask what the desire is trying to avoid: loneliness, insecurity, boredom, shame, the ache of "not enough." Feel that deeper feeling in the body for a few breaths while staying as the witness. Then choose a kinder response that actually addresses the root: rest, honest conversation, meaningful work, prayer, exercise, service, or simply allowing boredom to be boredom. If the urge is strong, use a practical rule: delay for ten minutes and do one grounding action (walk, water, breathing) before deciding. This builds inner sovereignty. Over time, desire loses its power as a durmitra ("bad friend") because you stop treating it as authority; it becomes one movement in awareness that you can meet, understand, and let pass.

ihāmutra viraktasya nityānityavivēkinaḥ ।
āścharyaṃ mōkṣakāmasya mōkṣād ēva vibhīṣikā ॥ 3-8॥

Meaning (padārtha):
iha - here (in this world)
amūtra - there (in other worlds/afterlife)
viraktasya - of the dispassionate one
nitya-anitya-vivēkinaḥ - of one who discriminates between the eternal and the non-eternal
āścharyaṃ - it is strange
mōkṣa-kāmasya - of one who desires liberation
mōkṣāt - from liberation
ēva - indeed
vibhīṣikā - fear; terror

Translation (bhāvārtha):
For one who is dispassionate here and hereafter, and who discerns the eternal from the non-eternal, it is strange if the very one who seeks liberation still feels fear of liberation.

Commentary (anusandhāna):
This verse points to a very human paradox: we say we want freedom, but we fear what freedom implies. Liberation is not merely "more pleasant experiences"; it is the loosening of the ego's centrality. The ego fears that loosening as death: "If I am not special, what am I? If I am not in control, who am I? If my story stops, what remains?" So even a sincere seeker can carry mōkṣa-bhaya - fear of liberation - while intellectually admiring it.

You can see the same fear in ordinary life. People long for peace, yet feel uneasy when life becomes quiet, because quiet exposes inner emptiness and unresolved pain. People long for intimacy, yet fear it because it dissolves the protective persona. Liberation is the ultimate intimacy with reality, so the protective persona resists. The gItA speaks to this by urging steadiness and non-attachment; Advaita speaks to it by repeatedly returning you to the witness, where the fear is seen as an object rather than as truth.

Practice by meeting this fear gently and staying with it a little longer than the mind prefers. When fear of emptiness or loss of identity arises, do not argue it away; acknowledge, "the ego is afraid." Notice the fear's physical expression - tightness, sinking, restlessness - and let it be felt without adding catastrophe stories. Then return to the simplest, verifiable fact: awareness is present. Ask, "Is awareness itself afraid, or is fear appearing in awareness?" Rest as the witness for a few breaths. If the mind wants to escape into distraction, delay that escape by a minute; let the fear be seen as a wave that can pass. You can also reassure the mind with reality: freedom does not remove your capacity to love, act, or care; it removes the compulsive need to build identity out of everything. Over time, the mind learns that liberation is not annihilation; it is relief - the end of being bullied by a self-image.

dhīrastu bhōjyamānō'pi pīḍyamānō'pi sarvadā ।
ātmānaṃ kēvalaṃ paśyan na tuṣyati na kupyati ॥ 3-9॥

Meaning (padārtha):
dhīraḥ - the steady one; the wise
tu - indeed
bhōjyamānaḥ api - even while being enjoyed/comforted (treated well)
pīḍyamānaḥ api - even while being pained/oppressed
sarvadā - always
ātmānaṃ - the Self
kēvalaṃ - alone; only
paśyan - seeing
na tuṣyati - does not become elated/pleased (as ego)
na kupyati - does not become angry

Translation (bhāvārtha):
The wise person, whether treated well or badly, always sees only the Self. Such a person is neither inflated with pleasure nor provoked into anger.

Commentary (anusandhāna):
This verse describes emotional maturity rooted in Self-knowledge. Pleasure and pain still occur, but they do not seize the identity. When you "see only the Self", you recognize that experiences are waves in awareness. Praise and comfort may come; you receive them without addiction. Criticism and pain may come; you respond without hatred. The stability comes from remembering what you are, not from suppressing feelings.

This is close to the gItA's description of the steady-minded person who is not shaken by sorrow and does not thirst for pleasure. The key is not numbness; it is non-reactivity. Reactive emotion is usually a defense of self-image: anger defends pride, elation defends craving. When self-image loses its centrality, the emotional swings soften. You can still say "this is wrong" and act firmly, but without inner poison.

Practice by watching what triggers elation and anger, and look for the shared root: ego hunger. When you feel either rising, pause and ask, "What is being defended or fed right now?" Is it the need to be admired, the fear of being wrong, the fear of being unseen? Feel the body's charge - heat, speed, tightening - and return to the witness for two breaths. Then choose a response that is clean: if praise comes, receive it without building a story of superiority; if criticism comes, check the facts and respond without venom. A practical training is to create a small delay rule: no immediate replies when emotionally charged; wait five minutes, or take a short walk, then respond. Over time, this small gap becomes a stable space. From that space, you speak more truthfully, choose better timing, and reduce regret - not because you became perfect, but because you became less reactive and more rooted in the Self.

chēṣṭamānaṃ śarīraṃ svaṃ paśyatyanyaśarīravat ।
saṃstavē chāpi nindāyāṃ kathaṃ kṣubhyēt mahāśayaḥ ॥ 3-10॥

Meaning (padārtha):
chēṣṭamānaṃ - acting; moving; functioning
śarīraṃ - body
svaṃ - one's own
paśyati - sees
anya-śarīra-vat - like another's body
saṃstavē - in praise
cha api - and also
nindāyāṃ - in blame
kathaṃ - how?
kṣubhyēt - would be disturbed
mahā-āśayaḥ - great-souled one; one of vast inner space

Translation (bhāvārtha):
Seeing one's own body acting as if it were another's body, how could the great-souled person be disturbed by praise or blame?

Commentary (anusandhāna):
This verse points to a practical form of detachment: objectivity toward the body-mind. When you see the body as an instrument rather than as "me", praise and blame lose their sting. Praise inflates only when you identify as the performer. Blame burns only when you identify as the image being attacked. The mahā-āśaya person has "big inner space": experiences happen, but they do not fill the whole sky of awareness.

In modern life, this is especially relevant because our nervous systems are constantly trained to seek approval and avoid criticism. Social media, workplace metrics, and comparison culture make praise/blame feel like survival signals. This verse offers a liberating stance: treat feedback as information, not as identity. If the feedback is true, learn. If it is false, let it pass. In either case, the Self is not touched.

Practice by separating three things when feedback arrives: facts, feelings, and identity-story. Facts may be useful; feelings may need care; identity-story is optional suffering. When someone criticizes you, first write the factual point in one line. Second, acknowledge the feeling in the body - hurt, heat, shame - and give it a few breaths of attention. Third, notice the identity-story ("I am worthless", "I am being attacked", "I must win") and label it as story. Return to the witness and see that all three are known in awareness. Then respond appropriately: correct, clarify, apologize, or move on - but do it from steadiness, not from self-defense. You can train this even with small feedback: a comment, a review, a suggestion. Each time you practice, the mind learns to live from mahā-āśaya - spaciousness rather than defensiveness - and relationships become cleaner because you are less reactive.

māyāmātramidaṃ viśvaṃ paśyan vigatakautukaḥ ।
api sannihitē mṛtyau kathaṃ trasyati dhīradhīḥ ॥ 3-11॥

Meaning (padārtha):
māyā-mātram - only illusion; mere appearance
idaṃ - this
viśvaṃ - universe
paśyan - seeing
vigata-kautukaḥ - without curiosity; without fascination; disenchanted
api - even
sannihitē - when near; when present
mṛtyau - in death
kathaṃ - how?
trasyati - would fear; would tremble
dhīra-dhīḥ - one of steady understanding

Translation (bhāvārtha):
Seeing this universe as mere appearance and free of fascination, how could the steady-minded person fear even when death is near?

Commentary (anusandhāna):
Fear of death is fear of losing identity. When the world is taken as absolute and the self is taken as a fragile body-mind, death becomes the ultimate threat. This verse says: when you see the world as māyā (appearance), fascination reduces, and with it, fear reduces. vigata-kautuka does not mean boredom; it means the mind is no longer hypnotized by the world's show in a way that binds.

This is not about denying the biological fact of death. It is about not turning death into existential terror. The Upanishads often define liberation as abhayam (fearlessness) because the Self is not a perishable object. When you repeatedly return to awareness as what you are, death is seen as a change in experience, not the destruction of the Self. Even if you do not have a firm metaphysical view, you can see psychologically that fear is amplified by identification.

Practice by working with smaller "deaths": endings, losses, changes, disappointments. Each time something ends - a plan, a relationship phase, a project, an expectation - notice the ego's panic and the urge to immediately replace the loss with another object. Pause and return to awareness. Ask, "What has ended?" and then, "What remains as the knower of ending?" Let the body feel the grief or discomfort without turning it into a story of annihilation. Then take one respectful action: make the call, clean up the mess, rest, or accept what cannot be changed. This trains the nervous system to experience change without collapse. Over time, steadiness grows - not because you forced bravery, but because you stopped confusing the Self with what comes and goes. This also makes you more compassionate, because you see others' fears of endings as the same identity fear.

niḥspṛhaṃ mānasaṃ yasya nairāśyē'pi mahātmanaḥ ।
tasyātmajñānatṛptasya tulanā kēna jāyatē ॥ 3-12॥

Meaning (padārtha):
niḥspṛhaṃ - without craving; desireless
mānasaṃ - mind
yasya - whose
nairāśyē api - even in hopelessness; even without expectation
mahā-ātmanaḥ - of the great-souled one
tasya - of that person
ātma-jñāna-tṛptasya - satisfied by Self-knowledge
tulanā - comparison
kēna - by whom? with what?
jāyatē - arises; is possible

Translation (bhāvārtha):
For the great-souled one whose mind is free from craving even without hope, and who is satisfied through Self-knowledge, with whom could such a person be compared?

Commentary (anusandhāna):
This verse points to a rare kind of freedom: freedom that does not depend on optimism. Many people appear peaceful only when life is going well. When plans fail, they collapse because hope was their emotional fuel. aṣṭāvakra describes a deeper steadiness: a mind that is niḥspṛha (without craving) even in nairāśya (when there is no expectation of improvement). That steadiness comes from being "fed" by Self-knowledge (ātma-jñāna-tṛpta), not by circumstances.

This is the difference between mood-based happiness and ground-based peace. Mood-based happiness is fragile and becomes dependent on outcomes. Ground-based peace remains even when outcomes are uncertain because it rests on the witness. That is why comparison becomes meaningless: the usual yardsticks (success, failure, excitement, loss) do not measure this kind of inner fullness.

Practice by exploring contentment without external change. When you feel dissatisfied, resist the immediate urge to fix or distract. Pause and ask, "What is the craving here?" - is it for stimulation, approval, certainty, control? Feel the restlessness in the body for a few breaths and return to awareness; let the shoulders and belly soften. Then try a small "minute of enough": for sixty seconds, let the moment be exactly as it is without bargaining. If action is needed, choose one clean action afterward, but do not use action as an escape from inner discomfort. You can train this with small situations: waiting in line, sitting in silence, doing a routine chore. Over time, this builds inner fullness that does not depend on hope or improvement, and it makes improvement cleaner too - you act because it is wise, not because you are trying to buy peace.

svabhāvād ēva jānānō dṛśyamētanna kiñchana ।
idaṃ grāhyamidaṃ tyājyaṃ sa kiṃ paśyati dhīradhīḥ ॥ 3-13॥

Meaning (padārtha):
svabhāvāt ēva - by nature itself; naturally
jānānaḥ - knowing
dṛśyam - the seen; the perceived
ētat - this
na - not
kiñchana - anything (as absolute)
idaṃ grāhyam - "this is to be taken/accepted"
idaṃ tyājyaṃ - "this is to be rejected/abandoned"
saḥ - that person
kiṃ - what?
paśyati - sees
dhīra-dhīḥ - one of steady understanding

Translation (bhāvārtha):
Knowing naturally that what is perceived is not ultimate, what does the steady-minded person see as something to grasp or to reject?

Commentary (anusandhāna):
Grasping and rejecting are two sides of the same bondage. The mind says "this will save me" and grabs; or it says "this will destroy me" and rejects. Both assume that objects have ultimate power over the Self. When the perceived is known as not ultimate, these compulsions weaken. Life still has preferences and practical decisions, but the inner drama of clinging and aversion reduces.

This verse also points to naturalness (svabhāva). At a certain depth, non-attachment is not forced discipline; it becomes the mind's default because it is rooted in clear seeing. You still respond to danger, care for loved ones, and pursue meaningful work. But you do not need to label everything as "mine" or "enemy". This is one meaning of freedom: the mind stops turning every event into a personal battlefield.

Practice by watching your labels in real time. Notice the instant "good/bad" reflex and how it tightens the body and narrows attention. Then ask, "Is this label an absolute truth, or a mental strategy?" Often the label is useful for action but not true as identity. Return to awareness for two breaths and allow a little openness. From openness, choose what is appropriate: say yes, say no, protect, engage, or let go. You can train this with small annoyances: a slow driver, a rude comment, a messy room. Watch the label appear and practice not obeying it immediately. This does not make you passive; it makes you less compulsive. Over time, fewer things feel like they must be grabbed or must be destroyed, and life feels less like a personal battlefield and more like a field of changing events in awareness.

antastyaktakaṣāyasya nirdvandvasya nirāśiṣaḥ ।
yadṛchChayāgatō bhōgō na duḥkhāya na tuṣṭayē ॥ 3-14॥

Meaning (padārtha):
antaḥ-tyakta-kaṣāyasya - of one who has abandoned inner impurities/taints
nirdvandvasya - free from pairs of opposites
nirāśiṣaḥ - without expectations; without demands
yadṛchChayā - by chance; as it comes
āgataḥ - arrived
bhōgaḥ - enjoyment; experience
na - not
duḥkhāya - for sorrow
na - not
tuṣṭayē - for elation/satisfaction (as egoic high)

Translation (bhāvārtha):
For one who has dropped inner taints, is free from opposites, and has no demands, the enjoyment that comes by chance is neither a cause of sorrow nor a cause of egoic elation.

Commentary (anusandhāna):
This verse describes spontaneous living without addiction. When inner taints (kaṣāya) - greed, resentment, vanity, manipulation - are reduced, enjoyment becomes simple. It does not create sorrow because it is not clung to. It does not create egoic elation because it is not used as proof of worth. The person is nirdvandva: not constantly swinging between "I won" and "I lost". Life is received as it comes, and the Self remains steady.

The gItA expresses a similar maturity as yadṛchchā-lābha-santuṣṭaḥ - content with what comes unasked. This is not passivity; it is freedom from inner demand. Demand is what turns pleasure into anxiety: "I must keep this." When demand drops, you can enjoy without being owned. This is why Advaita often looks surprisingly practical: it is not only metaphysics; it is a training in not being psychologically enslaved.

Practice by receiving one pleasant experience without grasping. Enjoy a meal, a compliment, a good outcome - and then let it pass without replay or bargaining for more. Notice the subtle demand that says, "I must keep this," and relax it for a few breaths. Also practice the other side: receive one unpleasant experience without collapse - a delay, a criticism, a small loss - and watch the urge to dramatize it. When you notice either craving or aversion, return to awareness and soften the body; let the wave be a wave. A useful daily drill is "one clean enjoyment": enjoy something fully with attention, then stop; and "one clean discomfort": let a small discomfort be present without immediately fixing it. Over time, your mind becomes less sticky because inner taints (kaṣāya) lose fuel. Then chance enjoyments stop being traps and become simple parts of life, while the deeper peace remains your home.




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