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ଅଷ୍ଟାଵକ୍ର ଗୀତା ଷଷ୍ଟୋଽଧ୍ୟାୟଃ

ଅଷ୍ଟାଵକ୍ର ଗୀତା is a 20-chapter dialogue of uncompromising ଅଦ୍ଵୈତ, moving through questions, recognition, and the quiet stabilization of freedom. The teacher's method is simple but sharp: repeatedly separate the knower from the known, until identification with the body-mind loosens and the Self is recognized as ever-present awareness. The text is not interested in building a new identity called "spiritual"; it is interested in dissolving the old identity that feels bound.

In the previous chapters, the dialogue has already shifted the ground under ordinary life. Chapter 1 points ଜନକ to the witness (ସାକ୍ଷୀ) and warns against compulsive attachment to ଵିଷୟs and even to special experiences. Chapter 2 expresses recognition through metaphors like wave-water and rope-snake, loosening fear and ownership. Chapter 3 sharpens the diagnosis of remaining cravings and identity-knots, and Chapter 4 paints the lived texture of freedom. Chapter 5 then repeats a single refrain - ଏଵମେଵ ଲୟଂ ଵ୍ରଜ - urging the dissolution of false identification with the body-mind aggregate (ସଂଘାତ).

Chapter 6 is ଜନକ's response from that recognition. Instead of saying "I will do ଲୟ", he says something more radical: for one established in truth there is "no giving up and no grasping" - and even the project of "dissolution" is not a deliberate act. The repeated line ନ ତ୍ୟାଗୋ ନ ଗ୍ରହୋ ଲୟଃ is not apathy; it is the natural consequence of seeing that the Self is untouched. When the knower is recognized as free, the mind's two compulsions - clinging and rejecting - begin to look like unnecessary labor.

The next chapters continue to deepen this ease. Chapter 7 uses the ocean imagery to show that the rise and fall of the world makes no difference to the Self; gain and loss lose their sting. Chapter 8 will define bondage and liberation in crisp psychological terms as movements of mind, and Chapter 9 will move toward ନିର୍ଵେଦ (mature disillusionment) and the dropping of ଵାସନାs (latent tendencies) as the heart of freedom.

Seen as a whole, Chapter 6 is a chapter of "effortless correctness." It does not deny practice; it clarifies what practice is for. When the truth is clearly known - "I am like space; the world is like a pot," "I am the ocean; the world is a wave," "I am the shell; the world is imagined silver" - then the mind does not need to keep performing extremes. There is no need to renounce life to be pure, and no need to grasp life to feel complete. The summary of this chapter is simple: knowing the Self as non-dual awareness naturally ends the restless project of holding and rejecting.

ଜନକ ଉଵାଚ ॥
ଆକାଶଵଦନଂତୋଽହଂ ଘଟଵତ୍ ପ୍ରାକୃତଂ ଜଗତ୍ ।
ଇତି ଜ୍ଞାନଂ ତଥୈତସ୍ୟ ନ ତ୍ୟାଗୋ ନ ଗ୍ରହୋ ଲୟଃ ॥ 6-1॥

Meaning (ପଦାର୍ଥ):
ଜନକଃ - King Janaka
ଉଵାଚ - said
ଆକାଶଵତ୍ - like space
ଅନଂତଃ - infinite (ଅନଂତୋଽହଂ = ଅନଂତଃ ଅହଂ)
ଅହଂ - I
ଘଟଵତ୍ - like a pot
ପ୍ରାକୃତମ୍ - natural; of the nature of change
ଜଗତ୍ - the world
ଇତି - thus
ଜ୍ଞାନମ୍ - knowledge; clear understanding
ତଥା - so; thus
ଏତସ୍ୟ - for this; of this (state/knower)
ନ - not
ତ୍ୟାଗଃ - giving up; renunciation
ନ - not
ଗ୍ରହଃ - grasping; clinging; taking
ଲୟଃ - dissolution as a deliberate project

Translation (ଭାଵାର୍ଥ):
Janaka said: I am infinite like space, and the world is a natural appearance like a pot. With this understanding, for me there is no renunciation, no grasping, and no deliberate dissolution.

Commentary (ଅନୁସଂଧାନ):
This metaphor separates the knower from the known in a very clean way. Space is not cramped by the pot; it does not become "pot-shaped" in its essence. The pot is a form that appears within space, and when it breaks, space remains unchanged. ଜନକ is saying: "I am like ଆକାଶ - open, boundaryless awareness. The world is like a pot - a limited set of forms and events that arise within that openness." When this is clear, the old struggle of purity-through-renunciation loses meaning. What would space renounce? What would it grasp? Renouncing and grasping are movements in the mind, not qualities of awareness.

This also clarifies why ଲୟ is not an action you "do" to awareness. If you try to dissolve the mind by force, you are still acting from the assumption "I am the mind that must be fixed." Chapter 6 flips the order: first know the Self as free, then let the mind settle as a consequence. This aligns with Advaita's insistence that bondage is ଅଧ୍ୟାସ (superimposition) - a mistaken overlay - not a real chain. When the mistake is corrected, the chain is not broken; it is discovered to never have bound the Self. In daily life, this shows up when you stop trying to win by controlling everything. When you remember "I am the space," events can still be handled, but the inner urgency softens.

Practice with the "space-and-pot" contemplation for one ordinary hour. During that hour, whenever you notice contraction (anxiety, defensiveness, grasping), pause and label: "pot-form." Then ask: "What is the space in which this pot-form is appearing?" Feel the openness around the sensation and around the thought. After one breath, take the practical action the situation requires (reply, plan, rest), but do it from the space, not from panic. Also notice the two extremes: the urge to grasp (control, demand, cling) and the urge to renounce (avoid, shut down, reject). Each time, return to the space and let the impulse be known without immediately obeying it. Over time, the line "no giving up and no grasping" becomes experiential: you can participate fully, yet the inner clutch relaxes.

ମହୋଦଧିରିଵାହଂ ସ ପ୍ରପଂଚୋ ଵୀଚିସନ୍ନିଭଃ ।
ଇତି ଜ୍ଞାନଂ ତଥୈତସ୍ୟ ନ ତ୍ୟାଗୋ ନ ଗ୍ରହୋ ଲୟଃ ॥ 6-2॥

Meaning (ପଦାର୍ଥ):
ମହା-ଉଦଧିଃ - the great ocean
ଇଵ - like
ଅହଂ - I
ସଃ - that (I am)
ପ୍ରପଂଚଃ - the manifest world; the expanse of experience
ଵୀଚି-ସନ୍ନିଭଃ - like waves
ଇତି - thus
ଜ୍ଞାନମ୍ - knowledge; understanding
ତଥା - so
ଏତସ୍ୟ - for this (one established in it)
ନ ତ୍ୟାଗଃ - no renunciation
ନ ଗ୍ରହଃ - no grasping
ଲୟଃ - no deliberate dissolution

Translation (ଭାଵାର୍ଥ):
I am like the great ocean, and the world is like a wave. With this understanding, for me there is no renunciation, no grasping, and no deliberate dissolution.

Commentary (ଅନୁସଂଧାନ):
The wave-ocean image emphasizes movement without loss of essence. Waves rise and fall, change shape, collide, sparkle, and disappear - yet nothing happens to the "ocean-ness" of the ocean. In the same way, thoughts, emotions, roles, and events can surge and subside, while awareness remains the stable field in which they occur. The problem in bondage is not that waves exist; it is that the mind believes, "I am a particular wave, therefore I must survive and win." ଜନକ is describing the relief of remembering, "I am the ocean." Then the waves can be met with intelligence, but without existential desperation.

This is also a teaching on non-clinging enjoyment. Many people fear that non-duality will make life dull, but the opposite can happen: when you are not grasping, you can appreciate without anxiety. A wave is enjoyed as a wave precisely because it is not forced to be permanent. This echoes the gItA's ideal of acting without clinging to fruits (ଫଲ-ତ୍ୟାଗ) and the Upanishadic vision of fullness (ପୂର୍ଣମ୍): when you are whole, you do not have to squeeze life to feel complete. In daily patterns, this looks like doing your work sincerely while letting outcomes remain outcomes; loving people without turning them into identity-props; enjoying comfort without needing it to cover inner emptiness.

Practice by choosing one "wave" that often drags you - perhaps a recurring worry, a craving, or a reactive emotion. When it rises, do not suppress it and do not feed it. Instead, recognize it as a wave: name it, feel its energy, and watch how it changes. Then ask: "What is aware of this wave?" Rest as that awareness for a few breaths. After that, take one small action that belongs to the wave-world (send the message, adjust the plan, eat a healthy meal) while staying rooted in the ocean. A helpful reminder is to treat the end of a wave as training: when something pleasant passes, let it pass without bargaining; when something unpleasant passes, let it pass without replaying. Over time, the mind learns what ଜନକ is pointing to: freedom is not the absence of waves, but the end of being owned by them.

ଅହଂ ସ ଶୁକ୍ତିସଂକାଶୋ ରୂପ୍ୟଵଦ୍ ଵିଶ୍ଵକଲ୍ପନା ।
ଇତି ଜ୍ଞାନଂ ତଥୈତସ୍ୟ ନ ତ୍ୟାଗୋ ନ ଗ୍ରହୋ ଲୟଃ ॥ 6-3॥

Meaning (ପଦାର୍ଥ):
ଅହଂ - I
ସଃ - that (I am)
ଶୁକ୍ତି-ସଂକାଶଃ - like mother-of-pearl (shell)
ରୂପ୍ୟଵତ୍ - like silver
ଵିଶ୍ଵ-କଲ୍ପନା - the imagination/appearance of the world
ଇତି - thus
ଜ୍ଞାନମ୍ - knowledge; understanding
ତଥା - so
ଏତସ୍ୟ - for this (one established in it)
ନ ତ୍ୟାଗଃ - no renunciation
ନ ଗ୍ରହଃ - no grasping
ଲୟଃ - no deliberate dissolution

Translation (ଭାଵାର୍ଥ):
I am like mother-of-pearl, and the world is like silver imagined on it. With this understanding, for me there is no renunciation, no grasping, and no deliberate dissolution.

Commentary (ଅନୁସଂଧାନ):
This metaphor goes deeper than wave-ocean. A wave is still "water"; it is a real transformation within the ocean. But silver on mother-of-pearl is an outright misperception: the silver was never there, only the shell. ଜନକ is pointing to the way the mind projects meanings and fears onto neutral reality. The raw data of experience is one thing; the story added by ଅଵିଦ୍ୟା (ignorance) is another. In bondage, we treat our projections as facts. In knowledge, the projection is recognized as projection. Then there is nothing to renounce because the imagined "silver" never existed, and nothing to grasp because the Self was never incomplete.

This is the practical heart of Advaita: freedom is clarity. When clarity comes, it is not that you have destroyed the world; it is that you no longer misread it in a way that binds you. Think of how quickly a fear can be dissolved when a misunderstanding is corrected. The fear was real as a feeling, yet its object was imaginary. Likewise, much inner suffering is based on imagined narratives: "I am failing", "I am unlovable", "I must secure this to be safe." The tradition says the deepest narrative is "I am only the body-mind." When that is seen through, the "silver" of bondage loses credibility.

Practice by noticing where your mind creates silver. Pick one recurring narrative and test it gently. Write it down in one sentence ("They don't respect me", "I'll never be okay", "If I don't control this, I'm doomed"). Then separate: what is the immediate sensory fact, and what is the interpretation? Hold the interpretation lightly and ask, "Could this be an overlay?" Next, do a brief witness-rest: notice that the narrative is known in awareness and cannot be awareness itself. Then take a grounded step that respects facts without obeying the overlay: ask for clarification, set a boundary, make a plan, or simply rest. Over time, this trains a sane mind: you stop fighting imaginary silver, and you engage life more cleanly.

ଅହଂ ଵା ସର୍ଵଭୂତେଷୁ ସର୍ଵଭୂତାନ୍ୟଥୋ ମୟି ।
ଇତି ଜ୍ଞାନଂ ତଥୈତସ୍ୟ ନ ତ୍ୟାଗୋ ନ ଗ୍ରହୋ ଲୟଃ ॥ 6-4॥

Meaning (ପଦାର୍ଥ):
ଅହଂ - I
ଵା - either
ସର୍ଵ-ଭୂତେଷୁ - in all beings
ସର୍ଵ-ଭୂତାନି - all beings
ଅଥୋ - or else
ମୟି - in me
ଇତି - thus
ଜ୍ଞାନମ୍ - knowledge; understanding
ତଥା - so
ଏତସ୍ୟ - for this (one established in it)
ନ ତ୍ୟାଗଃ - no renunciation
ନ ଗ୍ରହଃ - no grasping
ଲୟଃ - no deliberate dissolution

Translation (ଭାଵାର୍ଥ):
Either I am in all beings, or all beings are in me. With this understanding, for me there is no renunciation, no grasping, and no deliberate dissolution.

Commentary (ଅନୁସଂଧାନ):
This verse expresses non-duality in two equivalent ways. One way is intimate: the Self is in all beings as their inmost awareness. Another way is vast: all beings appear within the Self, like images in a mirror. Either formulation breaks the sense of "outside." When there is no outside, the mind's compulsion to secure itself against an alien world relaxes. Renunciation and grasping both assume separateness: I reject what is outside, I cling to what is outside. When non-separateness is seen, those movements lose their fuel.

This is also why compassion becomes natural rather than forced. If the same awareness shines in all, then harming another is not just "morally wrong"; it is confusion about what is real. Many traditions phrase this in their own ways, but Advaita's contribution is to make it experiential: when you rest as the witness, the boundary between "me" and "other" becomes softer without erasing practical differences. In daily relationships, this reduces the need to dominate, to win, or to be constantly right. It encourages a more truthful presence: you can still disagree, but you do not have to dehumanize.

Practice with a two-part exercise. First, in a quiet moment, bring to mind a person you find easy to love and a person you find difficult. Notice the body reaction to each. Then ask: "What is the awareness that knows both reactions?" Rest as that. Second, take one small interaction today and try to act from non-separateness: listen fully for thirty seconds without preparing your counterpoint, speak one sentence that is true but not cruel, or offer one simple kindness without needing credit. At the same time, keep discernment: non-duality is not naïveté; it does not mean you remove boundaries. It means you remove inner hatred and fear while keeping clarity. Over time, this makes the line "no grasping and no renouncing" practical: you can relate deeply without clinging, and you can step back without aversion.




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