From mythology on television to finding meaning through the Gita

From mythology on television to finding meaning through the Gita
Photo by Kamila Maciejewska / Unsplash

Sundays in childhood had a rhythm of their own.

The smell of hot parathas in the kitchen, the pressure cooker whistling before lunch, my mamma moving around the house to calm her OCD'ic mind while the television played in the background. Those mornings felt predictable in the best way possible. You woke up early knowing exactly how the next few hours would unfold.

From 7 to 10 a.m., the TV belonged to mythology. Ramayan, Krishna, and Mahabharata and spend a few hours learning Mantras from papa. I don't even remember the channel anymore, but I remember the feeling of sitting together and watching stories that somehow felt larger than life.

Maybe that is why those Sundays stayed with me for so long.

Back then, they just felt like a comforting routine — warm food, family, television, and slow mornings. But years later, I realise those Sundays quietly planted the first seeds of the questions I would spend most of my adulthood asking.

My bhaiya would almost always be out on Sundays doing random things - cycling around or playing cricket with his galli friends. Sunday somehow felt complete only when he came back home and all of us ate lunch together.

Mamma and papa never wanted us to watch Mahabharata. According to them, it was too centered around family conflict and war. Horror shows were also forbidden in our house, which naturally made my di even more determined to watch them. She was always the rebel. If they said "don't watch Aahat," she would wait for nightfall and somehow convince me to sit through it with her. And if Mahabharata was banned, she would find a way to watch that too.

I, on the other hand, was the youngest and the obedient one. I did exactly what I was told.

Funny how life changes.

When you are young, you hate being told what to do. But as you grow older, life becomes a series of choices no one prepares you for. Sometimes I wish life stayed simple enough for someone else to hand us instructions.

Right now, I'm in a phase where I write exactly what's on my mind — and my mind is a wanderer.

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The Gita was never really about war. It was about confusion. And maybe that is why those childhood Sundays mattered so much.

What began as simple Sunday television slowly became the beginning of a lifelong search for meaning. At that age, I only saw stories, wars, and characters. Years later, I began to see myself in them.

Arjuna stood on the battlefield of Kurukshetra with every reason to be angry, determined, and prepared for victory. But instead, he paused. In the middle of chaos, he questioned everything. He asked Krishna whether fighting the war was even the right thing to do.

That moment felt deeply human to me.

Because aren't we all standing in our own Kurukshetra every day?

We run endlessly behind success, money, achievements, validation, relationships, and dreams. We convince ourselves that happiness exists in the next milestone. But when we finally reach it, the feeling fades faster than we expected.

I noticed this in my own life too. Every time I desperately wanted something and finally achieved it, the happiness never lasted as long as I imagined it would.

And maybe that is human nature.

No amount of wealth, fame, success, or recognition can permanently give us peace. Which is why the bigger question is not "What do I want to achieve?" but "What gives my life meaning?"

For a long time, I asked myself what my purpose was.

Why was I born here?

What am I actually meant to do?

I still don't fully know the answer.

But I do know this — I feel most content when I give.

Not in grand, world-changing ways. In small ways.

Feeding animals at a shelter. Giving my house help a bonus unexpectedly. Helping someone quietly without needing credit for it.

Those moments bring me a kind of peace that achievements never could.

And maybe that is my first lesson from the Gita:

Sometimes purpose is not something you find.

Sometimes it is something you feel in the quiet moments when your heart feels light.


If this post resonated with you, this is the edition of the Gita I'd recommend — written in simplified, accessible English:

🕉️ The Bhagavad Gita: The Song of God Retold in Simplified English by Edward Viljoen

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