If Krishna Wants Us to Follow His Plan, Why Doesn’t He Reveal It Clearly?

“If Krishna Wants Us to Follow His Plan, Why Doesn’t He Reveal It Clearly?” This was the question a young man asked me after a talk. “I’ve been told to take advice from seniors,” he explained. “But they aren’t necessarily experts in my field. Sometimes different seniors give different advice, and sometimes they aren’t even available when I need to make a decision. How, then, can I know whether I’m following Krishna’s plan?” I nodded gravely. “I have felt that confusion myself. Over time, I’ve come to understand that Krishna’s plan gives us a broad direction, not a detailed itinerary.” “Can you explain what you mean by that?” he asked. “Let’s consider Arjuna’s example. In Bhagavad Gita 11.33, Krishna tells Arjuna that his opponents have already been slain by His arrangement and asks him to become an instrument in the battle. Yet in the war that follows, Krishna doesn’t micromanage Arjuna. He doesn’t tell Arjuna every arrow to shoot or every strategy to adopt. “Becoming an instrument doesn’t reduce Arjuna to an inert chess piece moved by Krishna. Arjuna still has to aim and shoot his arrows, drawing on his own situational intelligence and martial brilliance. To become an instrument for Krishna means a harmonization of intention, not a dissolution of individuality.” “Can you explain that?” he asked thoughtfully. “Krishna wanted Arjuna to fight to establish dharma in the world. But that larger purpose also required Arjuna to act according to his own dharma—his svadharma as a warrior. Arjuna was meant to fight against those who opposed dharma and support those who upheld it. That was the broad direction. How exactly he would fight, what strategies he would use, and how he would employ his abilities were not all dictated by Krishna.” “But I’ve heard in many talks, and seen in many prayers, that to surrender to Krishna we have to give up our will,” he said, his brow furrowing. “Yes, but what we need to give up is willfulness, not free will. Willfulness is the ego’s tendency to rebel against or reject God’s purpose. Free will is our basic capacity to choose what we pay attention to, where we direct our affection, and ultimately, to whom we give our heart. “At the end of the Gita, Arjuna himself says, kariṣye vacanaṁ tava—‘I will do as You say’ (18.73). But surrendering our will doesn’t mean surrendering our free will. Krishna hasn’t given us free will so that we can give it up. He has given us free will so that we can freely use it in His service and reciprocate His love.” Wanting this important point to register, I asked him, “What do you think? Does love require us to give up our free will?” He looked uncertain. “I don’t think so, but I’m not sure.” “Consider an ordinary parent-child relationship. During my travels, Indian parents sometimes tell me that their children, especially those growing up in Western countries, are being influenced by the surrounding culture and don’t listen to them as much as they would like. “When parents complain too much about their children’s disobedience, I sometimes pose a hypothetical question: Suppose you could replace your child with a perfectly identical-looking robot that listened to everything you said and followed every instruction perfectly. Would you prefer that robot to your child?” He considered the question. “Not a single parent has said yes,” I continued. “Though,” I added with a smile, “one mother did say, ‘I wouldn’t mind having such a robot in addition to my child.’” “When I ask parents why they wouldn’t want the replacement, the answer is that there would be no love in such a relationship. They want their children to listen to them, not because they want to take away their free will, but because they want to help them learn to use it rightly. “For children to use their free will rightly doesn’t mean they have to consult their parents about every decision. It means they develop the intelligence and values needed to understand what is right in a particular situation and act accordingly. “If we ordinary parents don’t want to take away our children’s free will, why would Krishna, the Supreme Parent, want to take away ours?” “But isn’t our relationship with Krishna, who is supreme, different from our human relationships?” he asked. “Yes, there is a difference,” I replied. “Because Krishna is eternal, our relationship with Him is eternal. And because He is all-attractive, that relationship can bring us unlimited fulfillment. “But the difference in whom we love doesn’t change the basic principle of love. Krishna doesn’t want simply obedient robots. He wants us to freely offer our hearts to Him.” “But does that mean we can do whatever we want and offer it to Krishna?” he asked. “Would all of that be part of Krishna’s plan?” “No. His plan isn’t that broad. As I said, it involves moving in a particular direction. Not every direction we choose becomes Krishna’s plan simply because we call it service. “Let me give you an example from the spiritual world. In Goloka Vrindavan, Radharani and the gopis cook for Krishna. Krishna doesn’t send them an exhaustive menu every morning, with precise recipes and ingredient lists, instructing them to prepare only those dishes in exactly those ways. “They know what Krishna likes, and they cook each day according to their inspiration on that day. “Krishna’s mood, we might say, is ‘Surprise Me!’ “Of course, Krishna is omniscient, so in one sense nothing can surprise Him. Yet within the reciprocation of love, He welcomes their individuality and creativity. Free will, then, is not merely something Krishna tolerates. He welcomes it because it enriches His devotees’ loving offerings to Him.” “That makes sense,” he said. “But how does it apply to our lives? Is it enough to do whatever we’re doing in a mood of service?” “The mood of service is important, but it’s not just a mood. Krishna’s overall purpose is that we rise from material consciousness toward spiritual consciousness—that our infatuation with the world decreases and our attraction to Him increases. “That is reflected in the first two principles of śaraṇāgati, surrender: ānukūlyasya saṅkalpaḥ, prātikūlyasya varjanam—accept what is favorable for devotion and reject what is unfavorable. “Within those broad parameters, we can consider how best to serve Krishna. It’s similar to expressing love in any relationship. We try to do what the other person likes and avoid what the person dislikes.” “But how can we know what Krishna likes and dislikes?” he asked. “That’s why we learn from guru, sādhu, and śāstra—spiritual teachers, saintly people, and sacred texts. “And one broad guideline for functioning in this world is dharma. Krishna explains in Bhagavad Gita 4.7–8 that He descends to establish dharma and counter adharma. So our choices should align with dharma and keep adharma afar.” “Does that understanding of dharma and adharma broadly correspond to our ordinary understanding of morality and immorality?” he asked. “Yes and no,” I replied. “Morality is certainly an important guide in understanding and doing Krishna’s will. But moral expectations can also vary across cultures and circumstances. “That’s why we need to go deeper and refine our inner compass. We all have a darker, demoniac side and a brighter, divine side, as Krishna explains in the sixteenth chapter of the Gita. In verses 1–3, He describes divine qualities we should cultivate. Later in the chapter, He describes demoniac tendencies we need to restrain. “Our choices align with Krishna’s plan when they further our divine tendencies and push our demoniac tendencies further away.” “So is doing the morally right thing all that’s required to express our love for Krishna and participate in His plan?” he asked. “It’s an important foundation, but there’s more. We pursue dharma for Krishna’s pleasure. “In a loving relationship, doing the right thing matters. But suppose someone cooks for a family member or takes care of them without any desire to please them. The action may be helpful, but it won’t necessarily deepen their relationship. “Similarly, we use our intelligence—our head—to understand the right direction in which to move. But we also strive to act with our heart, with devotion or at least the aspiration for devotion. We want to please Krishna and strengthen our relationship with Him.” Understanding Our Part Without Knowing the Entire Plan “Wouldn’t all this be much simpler if Krishna just told us His exact plan?” he asked. “I’m not sure it would be simpler. It might actually be much harder.” “Why harder?” he asked, looking puzzled. “Because the world is extraordinarily complex. There are so many moving parts. To understand why everything is happening as it is, and how every event fits into the larger plan, we would practically have to be omniscient ourselves.” “Then are we meant to follow blindly?” he asked. “Not blindly. We certainly need to understand our part, while acknowledging that we may never understand all the moving parts.” “Can you explain the difference?” he asked. “We need to understand the body-mind machine we’ve been given—what we often call our psychophysical nature, or svabhāva—and the environment in which we’re functioning. We try to bring out the best from within ourselves so that we can have the best impact outside ourselves. “Through self-observation, we discover our abilities, interests, and inspirations. By observing our circumstances, we discover where those abilities might make the greatest contribution. Then we act accordingly. “Consider Arjuna and Bhima. The Mahabharata doesn’t specifically describe Krishna telling Arjuna that his specialty should be archery or Bhima that his specialty should be mace fighting. They developed and used their particular abilities.” “But weren’t there celestial announcements about their destinies when they were born?” he asked. “And didn’t Pandu have particular desires when he sought those sons?” “Yes, but even those indications were broad rather than an exhaustive description of their future roles. Pandu didn’t specify that he wanted one son to become a great archer and another a great mace fighter. “Participating in Krishna’s plan isn’t about forcing ourselves to fit into some box already created for us. It’s more about gradually discovering the box we’re already in and learning to function accordingly.” The tension in his face seemed to relax. “I like that image,” he said. “Not forcing ourselves into a box, but discovering the box we’re already in. Can you explain what the box I’m already in means? Does it mean I have to stay inside that box forever?” “No. Every metaphor has its limitations. Our svabhāva, our psychophysical nature, is not a prison meant to detain us; it is a vehicle meant to be driven. Just as we need to understand the strengths and limitations of the vehicle we’re driving, we need to recognize both the gifts we have and the constraints we face, and then discover how best to contribute.” “Yes,” I continued. “And there’s another point. Our inability to understand Krishna’s entire plan isn’t necessarily a bug. It can be a feature. Not knowing the plan can itself be part of the plan.” He looked confused again. “What do you mean?” “A friend’s brother works in the espionage wing of his country’s intelligence agency. “My friend told me that during major espionage operations, multiple agents may be working within enemy territory. Each agent knows their own assignment and understands that there’s a larger operation underway. But often none of the agents on the ground knows the details of the entire plan. “That lack of knowledge is deliberate. If an agent is captured and tortured, the enemy can’t extract information the agent doesn’t possess. The larger operation and the other agents are thereby better protected. “So the agents’ unawareness of the full plan is itself part of the plan.” “But that’s a mundane example,” he objected. “Who’s going to torture us and extract God’s plan from us?” “That’s why it’s only an approximate parallel,” I replied. “I’m emphasizing the principle, not the specific circumstances. The existence of a plan and the participants’ lack of knowledge of that plan aren’t necessarily contradictory. Both can be part of the same arrangement. “Have you heard the expression ‘bird’s-eye view’?” I asked. “Of course,” he replied. “There’s an opposite expression I came across recently: ‘worm’s-eye view.’ We don’t see the whole landscape from above. We see what’s immediately before us. We do our best to respond to that, and when the next situation comes, we do our best with that too.” “That’s interesting,” he said. “But when you say ‘do our best,’ do you mean our best with our head or our heart?” “Both. In bhakti, we try to use everything we’ve been given in an expression of love for Krishna. Not just our head, but also our hands. Not just our intelligence, but all our faculties, including our physical abilities. “When we offer these in a mood of loving service, they become expressions of our heart. Through offering what we’ve been given, we offer ourselves.” “So is the heart the most important thing?” he asked. “Yes. Krishna says in Bhagavad Gita 10.10 that when we cultivate a devotional disposition, wanting to serve and please Him, He gives us the intelligence by which we can come closer to Him. “We could say that the disposition of our heart can, by divine grace, reveal the direction for our head. “And Krishna speaks here of those who actively engage in His service, not those who passively wait for mystical omens.” “How does that divine grace come?” he asked. “In many ways. Sometimes through advice or ideas from others. Sometimes through the results of our actions and the impact they have. Usually, it’s not just one factor. “Consider a relationship. How do we know whether we’re pleasing someone? We may notice their smile or hear them say they’re happy with what we’ve done. Those are important signs. But people can also say such things out of obligation. “So we consider several factors together to understand whether the relationship is actually growing stronger. There’s no three-point formula. “Similarly, if we keep our desire to develop our relationship with Krishna at the center and sincerely do our best, we can gradually recognize His guidance through various means.” From Anxiety to Devotional Curiosity “One last question,” he said. “Are you saying I shouldn’t feel uncertainty or anxiety about Krishna’s plan for me?” “Anxiety and uncertainty can certainly be troubling,” I replied. “But absolute certainty about God’s plan isn’t necessarily healthy either.” “Why not?” he asked. “Because being too certain that we know the specifics of God’s plan can lead to arrogance or religious self-righteousness. Suppose I become convinced that whatever I’m doing right now is God’s will. Then anyone who doesn’t support me—or, worse, opposes me—can start appearing to be an opponent of God. “From there, it’s dangerously easy to label others demoniac and justify fanaticism or extremism in the name of devotion.” “I hadn’t thought about that danger in being certain about God’s plan,” he said. “So if neither anxious uncertainty nor absolute certainty is desirable, how should we operate?” “With devotional curiosity,” I replied. “We can ask, ‘Krishna, how do You want me to serve You now? What are You teaching me through my experiences, through the state of my heart, and through the world around me? What would You like me to do?’ “The Vedanta-sutra begins with athāto brahma jijñāsā—now, therefore, inquire into ultimate reality. We often understand this as an invitation to philosophical inquiry into the Absolute. “But if we understand that ultimate reality to be Krishna, the same spirit of inquiry can animate our devotional life. We can remain curious about how best to serve Him.” “I like that—a spirit of curiosity,” he said. Then he thanked me. “Rather than giving me a specific answer, I feel you’ve given me a way to find the answer.” “Yes,” I replied. “And that’s exactly what the Bhagavad Gita does for Arjuna. That’s what it’s meant to do for all of us.” He nodded, thanked me again, and departed. Discovering My Part in Krishna’s Plan Later, as I reflected on our discussion, I thought about how these principles had helped me understand Krishna’s plan for my own life. From childhood, my physical limitations and intellectual gifts had given me a broad sense of how I might best contribute. Within my intellectual abilities, my interest in ideas and in sharing ideas drew me toward education, speaking, and writing. Then my discovery of the Bhagavad Gita gave me the subject I wanted to speak and write about. Over the years, I gradually discovered which audiences particularly appreciated my analytical approach. These included engineering students at elite colleges, software professionals and people in middle and upper management, and yoga practitioners and spiritual seekers in the Western world, among others. More recently, discovering that I could write experiential articles—bringing together lived experiences and Gita insights—has been another important development in my understanding of how I can serve Krishna. Sometimes I wonder: Would my writing have had greater reach and impact if I had discovered this genre at the beginning of my spiritual journey, some two decades earlier? Maybe. But perhaps I wouldn’t then have had the experiences and the understanding that now give substance to these articles. How could I have shared experiences if I myself hadn’t yet had those experiences? I had written a few articles and a couple of books in conversational formats earlier, including My Idol Worship or Ideal Worship?, my responses to the movie OMG, and Gita for the CEO. Looking back, I feel those works focused more on communicating ideas than on connecting hearts. Explaining the concepts of the Gita is certainly valuable, and I don’t wish to diminish the importance of those earlier writings. But I now see an evolution in my writing. Through sharing lived experiences, I’m seeking not just to communicate what Krishna teaches, but to deepen my own connection with Him and help others deepen theirs. Just as Arjuna’s heart became harmonized with Krishna’s purpose, I hope that through these shared experiences, both my heart and my readers’ hearts can become more deeply connected with Him. What initially seemed like a delay might also have been a period of preparation. Neither through introspection nor through retrospection can I know for certain the entirety of Krishna’s plan for me. But I can be reassured that I am moving in an overall direction toward Him. I can continue discovering how best to use what I’ve been given, without demanding certainty about everything that has happened or everything that lies ahead. Feeling grateful for this growing understanding, I offered a prayer: My dear Lord, help me not merely to talk with others about understanding Your plan for their lives, but also to walk my talk. May I seek with sincerity of heart and seriousness of head to appreciate Your plan for me and align myself with it—body, mind, and soul. Let me not expect or demand one magical moment of guidance or one extraordinary spiritual experience that will settle every question about how I should serve You for the rest of my life. Grant me the humility and curiosity to remain open to a lifetime of ongoing discovery. *** 18.73 Arjuna said: My dear Kṛṣṇa, O infallible one, my illusion is now gone. I have regained my memory by Your mercy. I am now firm and free from doubt and am prepared to act according to Your instructions. 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