Gita 2.28

Sadhak: "Krishna seems to be saying that before birth and after death, beings exist in some unmanifest form. What exactly is this unmanifest state? Where was I before I was born?"

Guru: "The unmanifest (avyakta) refers to potential existence—the seed state before sprouting, the silence before sound, the deep sleep before waking. Before your current birth, you existed in subtle form, carrying impressions (samskāras) from previous experiences, waiting for conditions to manifest again. It is not 'nothingness' but rather a state beyond sensory perception. Think of it like this: where does a melody go when the music stops? It does not vanish into non-existence; it returns to the realm of potential, capable of being played again."

Sadhak: "But if I existed before birth in some unmanifest form, why do I not remember it? And if I will exist after death, why can I not perceive that state now?"

Guru: "Memory belongs to the mind-body apparatus, which was not yet formed before this birth. The subtle impressions exist, but without the brain-mind instrument, they cannot become conscious memories in the ordinary sense. Similarly, you cannot perceive the after-death state now because your current instruments of perception are designed for this manifest realm. It is like asking why you cannot hear radio waves with your ears—the instrument is not tuned to that frequency. Yet deep meditation sometimes accesses these states, which is why mystics speak of remembering past lives or glimpsing subtle realms."

Sadhak: "Krishna asks 'what lamentation?' But surely the loss of a loved one warrants grief! Are we supposed to be emotionless?"

Guru: "Krishna is not forbidding grief; he is transforming its character. There is a difference between natural grief—the pain of separation, the honoring of love—and despairing grief that assumes permanent loss. The former passes naturally like weather; the latter becomes pathological because it fights reality. When you understand that the being has returned to the unmanifest state (not vanished into nothing), that they continue their journey, that the separation is temporary in the cosmic scale, grief becomes poignant but not devastating. You mourn the form while trusting the essence continues."

Sadhak: "This sounds like a way to avoid facing loss. Is it not a philosophical escape from genuine human pain?"

Guru: "Only if misused. Used rightly, this teaching does not bypass pain but gives it a larger container. You feel the pain fully, but you also know that the pain is not the whole truth. Avoiding pain is escapism. Knowing the larger context while feeling the pain is wisdom. The Gita is spoken on a battlefield, not in a monastery—it is intensely practical. Arjuna must function through his grief, must act decisively despite loss. This teaching makes that possible without numbing or denial."

Sadhak: "If beings are unmanifest before birth, does this imply pre-existence of the soul? Does the Gita teach reincarnation?"

Guru: "Yes, the Gita presupposes the continuity of the individual soul (jīvātman) through multiple births. This is stated explicitly later—'just as the soul passes through childhood, youth, and old age in this body, so it passes into another body at death.' The unmanifest state before birth is the state between lives, where the soul exists in subtle form. This is not unique to Indian thought—many traditions speak of pre-existence and afterlife. The Gita simply uses this as the framework for understanding why death is not the catastrophe it appears to be."

Sadhak: "If birth and death are just transitions between states, does anything really matter? Why engage with life at all?"

Guru: "This is a common misunderstanding. Understanding the temporary nature of forms does not make life meaningless—it frees life from desperate clinging. You can engage more fully when you are not terrified of losing. A child plays intensely even knowing the game will end; the game matters within its context. Similarly, this life matters deeply as the arena for experience, growth, karma, and ultimately liberation. The goal is not detachment from life but attachment transformed—engaged without grasping, caring without clinging, acting without fear."

Sadhak: "What is the practical takeaway for someone facing grief right now?"

Guru: "First, allow yourself to grieve—this teaching is not about suppression. But alongside the grief, hold this understanding: the one you have lost is not annihilated. They have returned to the unmanifest state from which they emerged, from which all beings emerge. The love that connected you is not destroyed by physical separation. You will carry their impressions in you, and they carry yours. In the cosmic journey, separation is temporary. Let the grief soften into love, let the despair transform into trust, let the fear dissolve into acceptance. This is the practical fruit of Krishna's teaching."

Sadhak: "So the message is not 'do not grieve' but rather 'grieve with understanding'?"

Guru: "Precisely. Grief without understanding becomes despair, bitterness, or prolonged suffering. Grief with understanding becomes a passage—painful but transformative. It opens the heart to the mystery of existence, to the vast cycles of manifestation and dissolution that all beings participate in. Krishna's question 'what lamentation?' is not a dismissal but an invitation to shift perspective. When you truly see that the manifest state is a brief appearance in an eternal journey, grief naturally gives way to wonder, loss transforms into trust, and death reveals itself as one more transition in the grand adventure of consciousness."