The glorious vision of the Cosmic Form was magnificently described in the Eleventh Chapter; and towards its end it was also suggested that nothing but whole-souled devotion can be an appropriate means to this great achievement. Now, the Twelfth Chapter commences with a query which immediately follows as a consequence of this suggestion. This Great Being, the Supreme Absolute, is capable of attainment through utter self-transcendence alone, a sacrifice of the self in the All-Self. It appears that this experience is impossible of attainment unless the soul raises itself to the status of this Supreme Omnipresence. But this requirement on the part of the soul seems to be a practically impossible affair and the only thing that appears to be available to the soul is humble devotion, and surrender of itself to the Great Lord. Which of the two methods is to be preferred,—a humble and simple surrendering of oneself to the Glory of the Absolute in utter childlike behaviour of dependence, or a strenuous effort to rouse oneself to the Being of the Absolute itself, by communion of self with self, in an impersonal merger of the individual in the All?

The Great Master is, indeed, very considerate in his reply and gives an emphatic solution to the effect that in the light of the difficulties that are involved in the practice of an impersonal meditation on the Absolute, devotion to the very same Being in a. personal relationship is to be regarded as the better way. Here, in this so-called preference of the one to the other, no comparison is involved. Generally, when we make a choice, a sort of comparison or contrast seems to be unavoidable, and a sense of inferiority is associated with that which is not preferred. But not so here is the case. The love of God which the soul evinces in its aspiration for liberation is not in any way incompatible with the fire of the spirit which bursts forth in the form of a melting away of the self in the All, in a supreme immanence of impersonality. For those who are embodied people, who cannot avoid the notion of the body, those whose consciousness is lodged in a physical tabernacle, for such persons any kind of conception which is wholly impersonal is unthinkable. We as human beings cannot imagine what utter impersonality is, because he who is a person cannot think of the impersonal. To be able to appreciate the significance of utter impersonality, one has to rise to the level of this capacity to appreciate. The feeble instrument of human individuality, which is the mind lodged in this body, cannot comprehend the lofty meaning of the spiritual impersonality of God. Such being the case, “I feel,” says Krishna, “that devotion to the Supreme Person is preferable, and both these methods are paths that lead to the same goal.”

 Whatever be the method that we adopt, that will not matter much, inasmuch as the attainment is going to be uniform, and common in either case. An unnecessary subjection of oneself to torture under the notion of austerity, or Tapas, while the body is not prepared for it, would be unwelcome on the spiritual path. Spiritual practice is not a mortifying suffering, it is not a sorrow that we are courting as a part of the requirement on the way. In fact, the growth of the spirit from the lower level to the higher is like the spontaneous expansion of the dimension of anything that grows in the world, and when there is a healthy growth of anything there is no pain involved in that process. The flowering of the bud is not a painful process, but the crushing of the bud in order to make it blossom with force would be an unnatural effort. The spiritual practice in the form of meditation on God should be a spontaneity of the efflorescence of consciousness and not any kind of painful pressure exerted upon the will, the mind, the feeling or the body. “Considering all these aspects,” says Krishna, “Love of God as the Supreme Person is welcome, and to people in this world that is the only way possible.”

“Merge your mind and intellect in Me, and you shall abide in Me,” is the supreme admonition. A whole-souled absorption of all thought in God, to the exclusion of any other idea, is the highest spiritual practice. If it could be possible for anyone of us to be aware of God’s Presence only, and nothing else, that would be the supreme blessedness; yes, if this could be possible, go ahead with it. This is the foremost instruction to Arjuna, and to everyone who is on the path. But who can be so strong in one’s mind and intellect as to be able to entertain God-thought alone throughout the day and the night? So, if this kind of continuous contemplation on God is found to be impracticable, try your best to sit for meditation every day, take resort to Abhyasa yoga, a daily tenacious effort to fix the attention of the mind on God, notwithstanding that an entire absorption is not possible. Everyday one should sit for one hour, two hours, or three hours, as the case may be, and see if the mind can maintain God-thought at least for these few hours, though not for the whole day. This is a second alternative and a teaching which is charged with a greater consideration and concession. People there are who find that even this is difficult. One cannot concentrate on God even for an hour. “This is not for me,” says the mind. Then, take to recitation, chanting, singing of the glories of God. Take the Name of God, be in a state of ecstasy when you think of Him even for a moment. Love Him whole-heartedly from the bottom of your heart. Let your daily routine be infused with divine devotion. Work as an instrument in the hands of God, never forget for a moment the presence of this Supreme Parent. But even here some difficulty is there. We cannot go on chanting the Name of God with zeal and feeling for a protracted period; we are busy bodies, we are activists in temperament, we have a lot of work to do in the world, we are involved in the performance of duties of various types. Such is our present position. “Well,” says the Lord, “It does not matter; even that is good.” “But do not work with any motive, do not do any work with an expectation of fruits, because, while the performance of duty is incumbent upon you, the expectation of fruits vitiates the virtue, or the righteousness, of the action. The result of an action is not in your hands.” This is a subject which has been dealt with in larger detail in the earlier chapters, especially in the Third, and it will be touched upon once again in the Eighteenth Chapter. “You have the right to do, but you have no right to expect a particular result from what you do, because the consequence of an action is determined by various factors over which you have no control. Hence, surrender the fruits of your actions to God, and engage yourself in action in this world, perform your duties, go on with your vocations in the spirit of true Karma-Yoga. And, be an ideal person. Hate not, love not.”

The concluding verses of the Twelfth Chapter go into details of the characteristics of a true devotee who lives in this world practically homeless, considering nothing as his own, not getting attached either positively or negatively to anything in the form of love or hate, and accepting anything that comes of its own accord, taking not any particular initiative, with no selfish interest involved, living to the extent practicable a life of impersonality, not putting on a behaviour or conduct on one’s side which will repel people or which will cause one’s own self also to shrink away from others. A significant and meaningful point is made out here when we are told that we should live in such a way that neither should we shrink away from anything, nor should others shrink away from us. This is not an easy affair, only a God-man can live like that. But while all this is hard enough, it is up to us to aspire for this ideal, at least, and to entertain this wish as our goal, in our hearts. Pleasure and pain, censure and praise are equal to this great soul, for he is rooted in God-Being, and it is the responsibility of God to take care of him,—he is the greatest devotee. With this gospel the Twelfth Chapter concludes. And the teachings of the Gita that follow further on take a different trend of approach altogether and detail certain philosophical aspects, and psychological points, which one comes across in the way of the practice, along the lines described in the earlier Chapters.

Often, exponents of the Bhagavadgita have held that the last Six Chapters are something like an appendix to the central gospel which, for all purposes, concludes with the Eleventh, or the Twelfth Section. There are others who think that the purely metaphysical or philosophical considerations are taken up for discussion in the last Six Chapters, while the more important practical side is emphasised in the earlier ones. Whatever it be, the last Six are important enough in their own way, since they elucidate certain knotty issues which have been just touched upon here and there at different places in the earlier Chapters. The Thirteenth Chapter pin-points its teaching on the principles known as Purusha and Prakriti,—we may say, consciousness and matter, or we may still boil down these correlatives to what we know as subject and object. The relationship between these two is to be understood, and the whole of philosophical deliberation is nothing but this study of the relation between subject and object, seer and seen, consciousness and matter, Purusha and Prakriti. The Purusha is the Soul of all beings, and God identifies himself with this Soul, here in the form of the great Incarnation, Krishna. The Knower is the Subject. The Known is the Object, or the Field. The Field of the operation of consciousness is the whole of objective phenomena. The Kshetra is this Field of operation; the operator upon this Field is the Kshetrajna. The Knower of the Field is God Himself. The Atman, or the Self in all beings, which is present in all individuals, and is the subject in you and in me and in everything, is the Universal Subject at the same time.