I Miss My People—But the Gita Taught Me This

I came to Delhi from Bhopal just two days ago for work-related stuff. You know how cities are—chaotic, buzzing, impersonal. I was busy, my to-do list was never-ending, but somewhere amidst the swirl of horns and honks, the only thing that really pinched was that I was away from my homies. My people. The chai breaks, the senseless banter, the comforting silences.

Sure, I’ll return. But someday, maybe not. Someday, we’ll part ways for good. Maybe for dreams, maybe for distance, maybe for death. That thought—it hit me hard.

And in the stillness that followed this emotional avalanche, I found myself remembering Krishna’s voice. The Bhagavad Gita. His calm, his clarity. His radical but strangely comforting take on love, attachment, and letting go.

This piece is my attempt to untangle that knot of emotion, of love and loss, through the lens of the Gita—and maybe help you untangle yours too.

Let’s be real—humans are built to attach. We’re not just social creatures; we’re emotional ones. We find people who feel like home. We invest time, memories, inside jokes, and rituals into relationships—friendships, families, lovers. So when we part, even briefly, it hurts.

But here’s the thing: sometimes our attachments become chains. We start clinging instead of connecting. We expect permanence from people who are just as temporary as we are.

In the Gita, Arjuna had an attachment crisis right in the middle of a battlefield. He wasn’t scared of dying. He was scared of killing his people—his friends, his mentors, his family.

And Krishna? Krishna didn’t shame him. But he did guide him.

Krishna introduces a powerful idea: “Moha”— emotional attachment clouded by delusion. When Arjuna collapses, unable to lift his bow, Krishna says:

“You speak words of wisdom, but you are mourning for what is not worthy of grief. The wise lament neither for the living nor the dead.”

That line might feel cold. But it isn’t about being emotionless. It’s about shifting perspective.

Krishna’s point? We aren’t the bodies that come and go—we are the eternal soul (Atman). The people we love—they too are not theirs to keep. They’re souls on their own journeys. We meet, we love, we part. Not because love is meaningless, but because love doesn’t mean ownership.

Here’s what hit home for me: the Gita never asks us to stop loving. It asks us to detach from expectation, not affection.


Krishna, the most divine being, loved deeply. He danced with the Gopis, wept with Arjuna, played with Yashoda, and still stood with a heart open to the inevitability of separation. He showed up fully—but without neediness.

We, on the other hand, often get addicted to the presence of someone. When they’re away—even for a while—it feels like something inside us is missing. We forget that love is not about filling our emptiness, but about sharing our completeness.

That was my Delhi moment. The realization that my sadness came not just from love—but from need.

In the Gita, Krishna keeps saying: “Do your duty, but don’t get attached to the result.”

Apply that to relationships and it gets profound.

Be a good friend, a loving sibling, a caring partner—but don’t tie your happiness to their nearness. People change. They move. They grow. Sometimes apart. Letting them go—without guilt, without bitterness—is the purest form of love.

Because otherwise, attachment becomes control. And love should never feel like possession.

If you're someone who cries after dropping a friend at the airport, or who scrolls through old photos when you’re homesick—you’re not weak. You’re human.

The Gita doesn’t ask us to become stone-cold saints. Krishna didn’t say “don’t feel,” he said, “don’t get trapped.” Feel deeply—but don’t forget your center.

Your people are important, but they’re not your entire identity.

Here are some practical, very human lessons from the Gita for anyone struggling with attachment:

1. Anchor in Self, Not in Others Spend time cultivating your own company. Meditate. Reflect. Know that even when alone, you are whole.
2. Appreciate, Don’t Cling Instead of fearing loss, celebrate presence. That one hug, that shared tea, that late-night talk—they happened. Be grateful.
3. Don’t Attach Outcome to Emotion If someone doesn’t call back, or can’t always be there—don’t spiral. Your worth isn’t determined by someone else’s availability.
4. Set Boundaries with Compassion It’s okay to love people and still need space. Detachment helps relationships breathe.
5. Serve with Love, Without Expectations Like Krishna advised Arjuna: do your duty (be a good friend, sibling, partner)—but let go of controlling how things unfold.

Yes, it’s a tough pill. Someday we’ll all part—for a while or forever. But the Gita doesn’t say that’s a tragedy.

It says it’s a transition.

We are not our relationships—but the love we pour into them lives on.

That cup of chai you shared?
That hand you held when they were crying?
That laugh that echoed in a quiet living room?

It mattered. And it still does.

You don’t have to hold on to people forever to prove love. You just have to love them fully while they’re with you—and gracefully let go when life moves them away.


I’ll head back to Bhopal soon. Back to my comfort zone, my gang, my people. But this time, I’ll go with a softer heart. One that loves freely, but clings less. One that sees the beauty in connections—not in controlling them.

“You have a right to perform your prescribed duties, but you are not entitled to the fruits of your actions.”

So let’s show up. Love. Be present. And then, let life move as it must.
Because maybe real love is not about never parting.
It’s about being so full in each moment together, that even the parting feels peaceful.

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