I'm scared that my son has become a ghost

“I’m scared that my son has become a ghost.” These were the words of an anguished mother in her fifties who came to meet me with her husband during one of my tours to North America. They were a South Indian couple who had settled there many years earlier. “Our son was educated here, and then he got married here,” the father explained. “He would sometimes get depressed, and he had difficulties with his wife. But then, to our great shock…” He paused and blinked his eyes as if trying to ward off tears. “One day, we came to know that he had taken his life.” His wife held on to him as he continued. “We have been practicing bhakti for a few years, and we have heard the philosophy that if someone commits suicide, they become a ghost.” It is distressing to hear about anyone ending their life. Often, those left behind are overwhelmed by what is called survivor’s guilt, agonizing over whether they could have done something to prevent it or whether something they did pushed the person over the edge. But here there seemed to be another kind of agony—one arising from what they understood philosophically about what might have happened to their son after death. “I’m so sorry about what happened,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm and reassuring. “There are many truths we learn from the Bhagavad-gita. One of them is that we are souls and that the soul continues to exist beyond death.” The mother spoke in a tight voice, as if trying to rein in her emotions. “I wish we had tried more vigorously to teach him the philosophy of the Bhagavad-gita. Maybe then he would not have taken such an extreme step.” “Among all the truths taught by the Bhagavad-gita, the greatest is that Krishna loves every one of us. Bhagavad-gita 18.61 describes Him as dwelling in everyone’s heart, accompanying the soul through all its wanderings—including its wanderings through a disembodied state.” I consciously avoided using the word “ghost” because that word often triggers scary images, all the more so for someone contemplating that a loved one might be in such a condition. “Krishna never abandons any person,” I continued emphatically. “Krishna is as much with your son now as He was with him during his embodied state, and as He is with you in your heart right now.” I saw some of the tension in their faces begin to ease. “The whole purpose of spiritual knowledge is to inform us so that we can make better choices. It is not meant to fill us with dread about the choices that others have made. Bhagavad-gita 4.36–37 explains that even if someone has made terribly wrong choices, spiritual knowledge can still elevate them.” The father asked hesitantly, “But can someone turn toward Krishna in a ghost’s body?” “Even if we may not know for sure whether a soul in a disembodied state can reach out to Krishna, we can know for sure that Krishna can reach out to such a soul. “And first of all, I don’t think you should be so definite in concluding that your son is now a ghost.” The mother looked confused. “But we have heard in many classes, quite categorically, that anyone who commits suicide becomes a ghost. Why are you saying that we should not be sure?” “What reasoning have you heard for someone becoming a ghost?” I asked. “We have heard that we are meant to stay in a particular physical body for a particular number of years according to our karma,” the father replied. “It is like a rented house. If we destroy the house before our tenancy is over, we don’t get another house until that allotted period is over.” “And we have heard that the soul suffers in a ghost’s body,” his wife added, “because the mind still has desires but there are no physical senses through which those desires can be fulfilled.” “Yes,” I said. “What you have heard is broadly similar to what is mentioned in the Garuda Purana about kumṛtyu, or inauspicious death, and ātmaghāta, or self-destruction. “But there are other factors to consider too. Depression is often characterized by a concerning reduction of desires. A person may not feel like doing anything, sometimes not even getting out of bed.” “Yes,” the mother nodded. “That would happen to my son sometimes.” A shadow passed across her face. “Although I never thought he would go to this extreme.” “If someone has relatively few desires in the embodied state, it is quite likely that they will continue to have relatively few desires in the disembodied state. Much of the suffering associated with a disembodied state comes from having desires without having the physical senses through which to fulfill them. But if there are fewer desires to begin with, there may also be fewer frustrated desires and consequently less suffering.” The father looked at me questioningly. “Are you saying that ghosts do not always suffer?” “Not exactly,” I replied. “All states of existence, whether embodied or disembodied, involve some degree of suffering. I am saying that we shouldn’t have a stereotyped conception of the disembodied state—that the suffering of everyone in such a state is equally severe. Just as embodied souls have different degrees of pains and problems during their lives, disembodied souls between two lives can also have different degrees of pains and problems.” I paused to let that point sink in and then continued. “Yes, ending one’s life is a serious act, and it will have consequences. But the overall state of a soul is determined not just by one particular action, but by that person’s overall balance of karma. Bhagavad-gita 4.17 therefore says that the workings of karma are difficult to discern.” The parents glanced at each other with a hopeful look in their eyes. “Our son was overall a good person,” the father continued. “He would sometimes give in charity. He didn’t have any bad habits. Although he grew up in the West, he didn’t drink alcohol or eat meat. That is part of why what happened was so shocking. He hardly made any bad choices. We had not approved of the girl he married, and perhaps their relationship problems pushed him toward this extreme.” “What prompted him to do that is a different question,” I said gently but firmly. “Let us stay with the fear that is troubling you most. “The complexity of karma can reduce our certainty about the darkness of your son’s present condition. But there is something much more important about which we can be certain: Krishna’s love. “Toward its conclusion, the Gita makes an emphatic declaration of Krishna’s love. In 18.64, Krishna tells Arjuna that he is exceedingly dear to Him. In 18.65, He calls for Arjuna’s unswerving love, and in 18.66 He assures Arjuna of His protection when Arjuna surrenders to Him. We may sometimes turn away from Krishna, but Krishna never turns away from us.” I could see that they were listening intently. “The reality of Krishna’s love needs to become bigger in your consciousness than the possibility of a dark postmortem destination. Which pastime makes you feel Krishna’s love most strongly?” “Gajendra Moksha,” they replied. “That’s excellent. Just as the Lord came to the rescue of Gajendra, you can also offer Gajendra’s prayers, invoking the Lord’s presence so that He can release you from your pain and release your son from his plight. Can both of you read that section together and recite Gajendra’s prayers regularly?” They nodded, and then the mother added, “We were told that there is a special rite for someone who has committed suicide—Narayana Bali. We have done that also.” I nodded. “That’s good. Such rituals can help disembodied souls find relief. But at this stage, you need something more than ritual correction; you need devotional connection. Beyond performing rituals that can help adjust reactions to past actions, you need to connect with Krishna and feel His presence, His proximity, and ultimately His love. That’s what I feel the Gajendra Moksha reading and recitation can do for you. “Additionally, if you can find an online Bhagavatam speaker whose classes you find absorbing, you can hear their talks on Gajendra Moksha. And if you have some more time…” I let the sentence hang. I didn’t want to burden them with too many devotional recommendations. “We will make time,” the husband said firmly. “Whatever is required, we are ready to do.” “You could even arrange a Bhagavatam katha at your home for three or five days, focusing especially on Gajendra Moksha. You can dedicate your reading, hearing, and recitation as an offering for your son’s spiritual well-being. “You can no longer express your love to your son directly in the ways you once did. But you can offer your devotion to the Lord within your heart. That same Lord is also with your son. He can carry your love, along with His mercy, to your son’s soul.” The Dream About a month later, the husband called me on the phone. “My wife had a dream,” he said. “Our son came to her and said, ‘Amma, don’t worry about me. I am fine now.’ Both of us are feeling immensely relieved.” “I’m happy to know that you are feeling relieved,” I replied. “And how is your devotional connection with Krishna through the Bhagavatam?” “We did everything you suggested. We memorized Gajendra’s prayers. We have been reading the Bhagavatam and hearing classes. We also arranged a three-day Bhagavatam program on Gajendra Moksha in our home.” “I pray that all this has given you emotional closure and brought you devotionally closer to Krishna.” “Yes,” he said. “We feel that is happening already. Thank you very much for your guidance.” Then he added, “We asked one of our mentors about the dream. He said that thinking it was actually our son would be sentimental and speculative. What do you think?” I felt distressed at this casual dismissal of the solace they had experienced. “That concern may be valid if we focus too much on the source of the dream,” I replied. “But instead of fixating on its source, we can focus on its effect.” They sounded slightly puzzled. “Can you explain?” “Certainly. Dreams occur in the subtle material domain, which is itself vast and complicated and can give rise to various mysterious events and mystical experiences. In the bhakti tradition, we focus primarily on two levels of reality: the physical and the spiritual. By understanding that physical reality is mortal and miserable, we gain motivation to take shelter of Krishna, who can elevate us to the spiritual domain, which is eternal and joyful. The subtle material domain falls between these two. “As for this particular dream, there are several possibilities. Krishna could have specially arranged for your son to come to you in the dream. Or, even if it was not actually your son, Krishna could still have arranged for you to have that dream. After all, He is the controller of all levels of consciousness—the waking state, jagriti, as well as the dreaming state, swapna. Or the relief you had begun experiencing during your waking state may simply have manifested in a dream that brought you similar, perhaps even greater, relief.” They became thoughtful as I continued. “So if we fixate on the source of the dream and insist on a particular explanation, our conclusion may become speculative or sentimental. But if we focus on the effect of the dream, there is something we can say much more confidently. It brought you greater calmness and composure, and it strengthened your connection with Krishna—especially because it came after a period of intensified devotional practice. “So this forward-looking focus is neither speculative nor sentimental. It is constructive and favorable for your devotion. And what is favorable for our devotion should certainly be accepted, not rejected.” The relief was evident in their voices as they thanked me, and we concluded our phone conversation. Keeping the Biggest Reality the Biggest Later, as I reflected on my interactions with this couple, I thought about my own hesitation to speak much about ghosts and disembodied beings. Whenever I bring up such topics in classes, they tend to generate a flood of questions—whether a particular house is haunted, whether someone might be possessed, what ghosts can or cannot do. Although I have written about the disembodied state elsewhere, I have generally avoided discussing it much in classes because it can easily become the philosophical equivalent of sensationalism. But this encounter forcefully brought home to me another danger. Some teachings are capable not just of attracting more attention but also of inducing greater recollection—they can stick more strongly and stay longer in our memory. Even if a dramatic statement may be true, a smaller truth can eclipse a far bigger truth. Thinking thus, I offered a prayer: My dear Lord, help me emphasize most what You emphasize most. May I communicate and convey in such a way that the unfailing and unflinching reality of Your love remains the biggest reality. And may I always understand and present every other truth in the light of that reality. *** 18.66 Abandon all varieties of religion and just surrender unto Me. I shall deliver you from all sinful reactions. Do not fear. The post I’m scared that my son has become a ghost first appeared on Chaitanya Charan Das, Bhagavad Gita ISKCON .