Gita 02.71 – Peace comes not by relocation, but by renunciation

Audio Link: https://www.thespiritualscientist.com/gita-02-71-peace-comes-not-by-relocation-but-by-renunciation/

vihāya kāmān yaḥ sarvān
pumāṁś carati niḥspṛhaḥ
nirmamo nirahaṅkāraḥ
sa śāntim adhigacchati (Bg 2.71)

Word-for-word:
vihāya — giving up; kāmān — material desires for sense gratification; yaḥ — who; sarvān — all; pumān — a person; carati — lives; niḥspṛhaḥ — desireless; nirmamaḥ — without a sense of proprietorship; nirahaṅkāraḥ — without false ego; saḥ — he; śāntim — perfect peace; adhigacchati — attains.

Translation:
A person who has given up all desires for sense gratification, who lives free from desires, who has given up all sense of proprietorship and is devoid of false ego – he alone can attain real peace.

Explanation:
vihāya kāmān yaḥ sarvān: Giving up all material selfish desires,
pumāṁś carati niḥspṛhaḥ: a person moves about without any attachment,
nirmamo nirahaṅkāraḥ: without a sense of proprietorship or false ego.
sa śāntim adhigacchati: Such a person attains peace.
In this verse, Kṛṣṇa essentially tells Arjuna how he can attain peace—sa śāntim adhigacchati. He tells Arjuna that peace will not come merely by avoiding war. True peace is more an inner state than an external one.

Often, when we are agitated, we try to place ourselves in peaceful surroundings—and that can certainly help. But sometimes, even when the environment is calm, we may still feel agitated within. This happens when we are inwardly attached to things that disturb our peace.

The way to peace is not relocation but renunciation.

Relocation means moving from one place to another. For instance, if we are working in an environment filled with conflicts, office politics, or strained relationships with colleagues, we may feel tempted to leave. Similarly, in personal relationships, when conflicts become too frequent, people often think, “Let me go somewhere else and make a fresh beginning.”

Relocation is what many people see as the way forward. In some cases, relocation may be necessary, but that is only the beginning of a solution—it is not the solution itself. Often, the real issue lies in our internal attachment to things working out in a particular way. However, the world does not always conform to our expectations.

While it is important to take responsibility and work toward our aspirations, we also need to acknowledge a fundamental reality: things will not always go our way, and people will not always behave the way we want—or even the way we think they should. Learning to live with that reality is essential for inner peace.

Renunciation does not mean giving up everything and becoming a renunciate. Rather, it refers to cultivating a healthy emotional distance from things that are not all that important, so we can stay focused on the things that truly are.

What Kṛṣṇa tells Arjuna in this verse may seem entirely impractical—especially for someone as entangled in worldly affairs as a warrior. Kṛṣṇa tells him, vihāya kāmān yaḥ sarvān—give up all desires. How can a warrior, actively fighting a war, be free from all desires?

Then He says, pumāṁś carati niḥspṛhaḥ—have no attachments. Desires are fleeting—they may arise now and then when we see or perceive something. Attachments, however, go deeper. They repeatedly generate desires. What we are attached to, we desire again and again. So, while desires may be occasional, attachments lead to habitual desires of the same kind.

Next, Kṛṣṇa says, nirmamaḥ nirahaṅkāraḥ—have no sense of proprietorship and no ego. For a kṣatriya, this appears even more challenging. A kṣatriya has a kingdom to rule and is also expected to possess a strong sense of honour. In fact, earlier in the Bhagavad-gītā, Kṛṣṇa Himself tells Arjuna that for a kṣatriya, dishonour is worse than death—sambhāvitasya cākīrtir maraṇād atiricyate (Bg 2.34).

What, then, is the meaning of nirahaṅkāra in this context?

The word ahaṅkāra—often translated as ego or arrogance—has multiple meanings—one in a conventional or conversational sense, and another in a philosophical sense.

In everyday conversation, when we use the word “ego,” it generally refers to someone who believes they are always right, who considers themselves superior to others, or who thinks they know better than everyone else. This is a misconception rooted in the idea: “What I know is right, and what everyone else knows is wrong,” or “I know best.”

Such an attitude can be alienating because it tends to minimize others. People often feel diminished in the presence of someone with an “I-know-it-all” mindset. This is ego in the conversational sense—when we say, “He has too much ego,” we typically mean, “He always thinks he’s right.”

However, in the philosophical sense, ego refers to the misidentification of the soul with the body. Here, Kṛṣṇa is using ahaṅkāra more in this deeper, philosophical sense than in the everyday conversational sense—though the conversational meaning could also be relevant to some extent.

In the philosophical context, ahaṅkāra is the false conception of identity—the belief that “I am this body” or “I am the doer.” This is a fundamental misconception that underlies all material attachments and desires.

In the conversational sense, Kṛṣṇa could also be instructing Arjuna not to assume that he knows better than Kṛṣṇa. However, Arjuna has already acknowledged his limitations. He has admitted, dharma-sammūḍha-cetāḥ (Bg 2.7)—that he is bewildered about his duty and uncertain about what he should do.

In that sense, what Kṛṣṇa tells Arjuna aligns more with the general philosophical meaning of nirmamaḥ nirahaṅkāra—do not identify with the body. When we identify with the body, we seek peace at the bodily or material level. However, when we cease identifying with the body, we still desire peace, but it is no longer confined to the bodily level.

But what do we mean by misidentification? For example, imagine someone watching a cricket match. If their favorite team is performing poorly, going from a winning position to a disheartening loss, the spectator—who is very attached to cricket—becomes agitated.

What happens on the cricket field, however, is beyond the control of the spectator, whether they are watching from the stadium or from home on television. The television viewer, or the spectator in the stadium for that matter, cannot control what is happening on the field.

To the extent there is attachment, to that extent there will be agitation. For instance, if someone decides, “I don’t care about cricket,” or if they are not emotionally attached to the game, then what happens on the cricket field will not affect them much.

Kṛṣṇa tells Arjuna to act in the knowledge of his spiritual identity, and by doing so, he will not be agitated. He will not be lost, and he will be able to stay peaceful. The word “carati” refers to moving about, and this is directly related to Arjuna’s question, vrajeta kim—”How does a self-realized person move about?” In other words, how does a person engage the senses in service while remaining in self-realization?

Kṛṣṇa answers here by emphasizing the importance of keeping oneself free from desires. What He is referring to is niḥspṛhaḥ, nirmamaḥ, nirahaṅkāraḥ—all of which are related to false material desires. We can and we should have spiritual desires because it is impossible to be entirely desireless. The concept of spiritual desires will be more vividly introduced in the seventh chapter, where Kṛṣṇa will use the phrase mayy āsakta-manāḥ (Bg 7.1)—”make your mind attached to Me.”

But for now, suffice it to say, Kṛṣṇa answers Arjuna’s question by stating that peace comes not from avoiding duty, but from avoiding attachment. It is not by shirking your kṣatriya duty that you will find peace. What is causing your agitation is not the duty itself, but the duality created by attachment. Give up that duality and attachment, and you will find peace, even amidst duties that might otherwise seem agitating.

Thank you.