Describing the possible character of the movement of the soul towards God, we are told that there are four types of aspiring souls, all these aspirations being regarded as worthwhile and very valuable in their own way. Our love for God is variegated in its motivation. And the more perfect is the love or aspiration, the greater is the chance of one’s realisation of God, experience of the Absolute. The more we try to consider God as an outside object, even though in a philosophical sense, the more is the difficulty that we will encounter on the path, because God resents any kind of a relinquishment of Him to the limbo of an objectivity of perception. If God tolerates not anything at all, it is our attitude towards Him as if He is an object outside. And if God is the Soul of the Cosmos, the Atman of all this consciousness behind every experience, it should be impossible, even with the farthest stretch of our imagination, to conceive Him as an object and to regard Him as being away from us even by the distance of an inch. If God is not an object, what should be our attitude towards God? All attitudes are objective and are movements of the psyche. And if God is expected to be a Cosmic Soul, the Self of all beings, it is impossible to speak of any ‘attitude’ or an ulteriorly motivated aspiration towards Him. Yet, people belong to various categories and degrees of evolution and experience.

There are people, mostly, who turn to God in times of distress, when they are in agony or sorrow, and when there seems to be no help coming from anyone, from anywhere in the world, they cry out, “God, help me.” The asking for God’s Presence is because of the pain through which they are passing, and the lacuna that they feel in their selves (Arta). The anguish that is tearing our hearts and the inadequacy that we feel everywhere within as well as without summons God for help. This is one sort of love for God, a devotion, a religion, of course. Everything is religious if it is charged by the touch of God-consciousness in some way. But what is the quality, the intensity, of this aspiration, is a matter to think. Bhagavan Sri Krishna, as a Teacher of Yoga, tells us that these are types of devotees, great indeed in their own way, because they turn to God, whatever be their motive. There are others who seek knowledge, wisdom, enlightenment and not any material favour. Not redress from sorrow or grief, not long life, not anything that human beings will regard as ordinarily acceptable or valuable is their aim. They require illumination, understanding, and blessing which will take them to an entry into Truth (Jijnasu). There is a third category, in whose connection the term used in the Bhagavadgita is Artharthi, those who seek ‘artha’, or an objective. Usually the word Artha is translated as ‘object’ of ‘material need’. Most commentators tell us that the third category mentioned is that of the devotee who turns to God for material prosperity of some kind. But there are others who think that it is not proper to imagine the third category as in any way inferior to the second. There is some sort of a logic, it appears in the arrangement of these devotees as Arta, Jijnasu, Artharthi and Jnani, inasmuch as the last one is proclaimed to be the most superior as contrasted with the earlier ones. And the second one is certainly superior to the first one. It is accepted, therefore, by implication, that the third is superior to the first and the second. So, there are those interpreters of the Gita who say that here ‘Artha’ should not be taken to mean material or physical property, but the fulfillment of the aims of life which are known as the Purusharthas. This is a novel interpretation given by some teachers. The aims of existence are the objects aspired for by these devotees who are considered here as Artharthis, seeking those things which are the supreme objects, not the lower ones which are physical.

But the greatest devotee of God is he who asks for nothing from God; not even knowledge, not even enlightenment, not even freedom from suffering, and such devotees are rare to find. The mind is made in such a way that it has always a need of some kind or other. And to imagine a condition of the mind where it has no need whatsoever is difficult. The highest devotion asks for God alone, and not anything through God, or from God. The superiority of this sort of devotion should become obvious to any thinking mind, because to ask for anything from God, or to utilise God as an instrument in the acquisition of anything exterior to God, would be to reduce God to a category inferior to that which one is asking for through the devotion. If God is an instrument in the fulfillment of desires, he ceases to be the Supreme Being, or the Ultimate Reality. That would suggest that the thing we are asking for is better than God himself! And one who knows that God is superior,—the cause is superior to all its effects, and the one who gives is more than what is given,—that God is the Absolute All-in-All, is the Jnani. And if our heart can accept this truth, that the Being of God is greater than anything that can emanate from God, then we shall absorb ourselves in a type of devotion which is identical with being itself. Knowledge becomes being. When knowledge is inseparable from being, we are supposed to be in a state of realisation which is the highest type of spiritual experience. “All these are wonderful devotees,” the Teacher says, “but I consider the Jnani, the wisdom-devotee, as the supreme, for he has become My very Self” One who is immensely delighted at the very thought of the Omnipresence of God, who is in ecstasies even at the idea of the Supreme Absoluteness of God’s Being, has attained everything in one moment, nay, instantaneously. He is flooded with the very being of God, and not with the objects that one considers as one’s accessories in life.

The cosmological approaches to the existence of God as the Creator of the universe, these explanations which are offered in the Seventh Chapter, somehow keep God at an awful distance from us, in spite of the proclamation that the supreme concept of God is that of the identity of all beings with the being of God. Curiously, we begin to feel that God is some tremendous, fearsome, cosmic force, and our love for God is simultaneously attended with the fear of God. We are wonder-struck. We feel it is impossible for us even to face the presence of such a Mighty Being. In love there is no fear, and the school of Bhakti, or devotion, has classified it into two categories;—the one considering God as the Supreme Master, or Father, who demands an awe-striking superiority over everything, and the other regarding him as the most Beloved. God has created and maintains a sort of distance from all the objects which are controlled by Him as His creations. The fear of God is due to the power of God. We have a fear of the ocean, and we would not like to go near it. The reason is the magnitude and the expanse that is there in front of which we look like puny nothings. We are frightened when we look at the skies above. The expanse seems to be so impossible of even thinking that for a long time we cannot gaze at the distance and be at peace with ourselves. We are also frightened at the distance of the Sun from ourselves and the largeness of the astronomical universe that is gigantically staring at us as an awesome something. So is the concept of God in one type of devotion, which goes by the name of Aisvarya-pradhana-bhakti, devotion where the predominant feature is the feeling of the glory, the might and the magnificence of God,—his greatness. But there is another kind of love which regards God as the reality within one’s own heart, incapable of separation from one’s own self, as the dearest of all dear ones, and the most loveable of all the loved objects, and the sweetest conceivable thing ever. Such a devotion is categorised in the Bhakti schools under the name, Madhurya-pradhana-bhakti, where the soul surges forth to God in a melting love and affection which is ordinarily difficult to entertain in respect of an almighty power before which we are just nothing, as it were. Yet, when God is understood in his proper form and relationship with us, we can not but love him as our own soul. Often we feel that He is not our own soul, as we are small individuals. And, therefore, we are afraid of God; but we are also convinced that it is impossible for us to be without Him, and our existence itself is His existence and our soul is He, our love for Him would be identical with our own self which excels every other kind of love. The sweetness of devotion, automatically follows from our acceptance of the inseparability of God from our own Self, or soul,—from everything. These are the implied suggestive aspects of the teachings the few verses of the Gita concerning the four types of devotees.

The distance between man and God becomes less as one rises higher in love and devotion, finally the distance getting abolished altogether, so that the Supreme Object which is God becomes the Supreme Subject which is the Soul of the cosmos. The fearsome distance of God from us gets gradually diminished as we proceed further through the Chapters of the Gita, onwards, right from the Seventh. A time will come when we will see nothing but God, and we would be nowhere there, and that time has to come. Are we fit to realise God in this life? Can anyone touch one’s own heart and say, “Yes, in this very birth, I am going to be absorbed in God’s Being,” or do we have a suspicion, “Well, this is not for me”? This difficulty is taken up in a very beautiful manner at the commencement of the Eighth Chapter. Most of us would feel diffident even about the entertaining of the idea of this all-consuming Absolute. We are terrorised even by the very thought itself. It would mean that we may pass away from this world without having any contact with this mighty Reality. What will happen to us when we die? What are the chances available to us in this great path of the soul towards God? Is it possible for us to have at least a hope of the possibility of such a realisation, or contact with God? Or, are we to die like flies or moths with no hope whatsoever? Before answering this question, the Teacher introduces us into another set of cosmological ideals. The direct answer does not come forth immediately. The introduction to the theme comes from the mouth of Arjuna himself, who puts the question as to what all these mean, taking the hint from the suggestive words of the Teacher towards the end of the Seventh Chapter.

 
What is Brahman? What is the Absolute? What is the universe? What is the individual? What is the relation ship between these, and what is the way that we are to adopt in order that we may contact Realty at least after the leaving of the body in this life, if it is not possible in this life? The points touched in the query sweep over almost every philosophical principle. We have no hopes of seeing God in this life; it is an absolutely hopeless affair. Well, then, even afterwards, is it such a hopeless matter? Is there a chance of our beholding God’s glory or contacting Him at least after death? Or, are we to be a miserable specimen even after quitting this physical body here? All these are the suggestions behind Arjuna’s questions at the beginning of the Eighth Chapter; and we have to take a little time to understand the answer that Krishna gives to these basic issues.