“One who follows the regulated principles of freedom can obtain the complete mercy of the Lord.” – Bhagavad Gita (2.64)
Have you ever noticed how, after visiting Bollywood.com too often, your computer’s browser starts auto-suggesting it the moment you type the letter B? It’s as if the computer knows your guilty pleasures. Similarly, when we repeatedly engage in sense gratification, our mind picks up the pattern. The moment we want to type B for Bhagavad Gita, the mind proposes Bollywood.com instead. That’s the default setting.
Now imagine you’ve come to a Hare Krishna program, inspired to change. You resolve to search for Bhagavad Gita. But alas, your browser remembers your past. You type B, and it tempts you again with Bollywood.com. At that moment, you have a choice. If you persist and type Bhagavad Gita ten or twelve times, eventually the browser gets the hint and changes its default suggestion.
Likewise, when we attempt to give up sense gratification and choose Krishna consciousness, the mind initially rebels. Old impressions are stored deep inside, and they’ll keep proposing the familiar pleasures of the past. That’s when we need tapasya—patience, tolerance, and Krishna connection. There’s no shortcut. We have to say no, and yes—it will be painful. But growth always is.
The mind is often compared to a restless monkey or a chariot gone wild when not anchored by the intelligence and driven by Krishna consciousness. The default browser history of the mind—our vāsanās (impressions)—are formed over lifetimes.
Just as a lotus will always turn toward the sun, the conditioned soul’s mind naturally turns toward sense gratification unless it is trained to turn toward Krishna.
In Bhagavad-gītā 6.5, Krishna says:
“One must elevate, not degrade, oneself by the mind. The mind is the friend of the conditioned soul, and his enemy as well.”
If we don’t manage the mind, it will always open the tab of Bollywood.com, or worse, MayaUnlimited.net. But we have the power to override the default settings through spiritual practice and repeated association with the holy name. We just have to choose Krishna.
How to Choose Krishna?
What helps tremendously in this journey is shifting from “I-referencing” to “Krishna-referencing.”
Normally, when we hear someone speak well or do something amazing, our reflex is to compare: “Is he better than me?” or “Where do I stand?” That’s “I-referencing.” But instead, if we see that person’s talent as a gift from Krishna, and feel happy that the Lord is glorified through him, then we’re practicing “Krishna-referencing.” We see others not in relation to ourselves but in relation to Krishna.
This shift helps us move from self-obsession to Krishna-consciousness. It allows us to taste a higher rasa—a spiritual flavor that empowers us to tolerate the painful transition from material to spiritual life.
For example: when we hear someone sing or speak well, our ego reflex is to compare. But if we pause and say, “How wonderful is Krishna to have gifted him that voice,” suddenly our heart expands. That’s rasa on the rise.
But alas, we’re often stuck in the dessert section of life.
From Comparison to Celebration
Life is like a grand prasadam feast where everyone is served a different sweet—someone gets a ladoo, someone a cake, and someone else a pedha. But instead of savoring our own plate, we keep looking at what others got. And then we sulk. Misery doesn’t come from what we lack; it comes from comparing what we have with what others have.
Social media is a giant display of other people’s “plates.” If we spend our life scrolling others’ sweets, we’ll miss the nectar Krishna has put in ours.
Remember: Happiness doesn’t come from what we have, but from what we do with what we have.
Instead of comparing, let’s start celebrating.
Why we don’t taste the happiness of Krishna consciousness?
The Mahabharata offers a powerful cautionary tale through the character of Duryodhana. He wasn’t satisfied with the Pandavas’ exile. No—he wanted to rub salt in their wounds. He planned a luxury picnic near their forest just so they could see his opulence and feel miserable. He is the epitome of envy and ego.
Let’s break down the descending ladder of ego (self-centered living):
- Divine usage (The highest level): ‘Everything I have is for Krishna’ – Using all we have for Krishna’s pleasure.
- Neutral Usage (Lower): ‘I’ll enjoy, even if it inconveniences others.‘ – Doing things for our happiness without caring if others are disturbed.
- Social vanity (Still lower): ‘I’ll enjoy, but only if others see me enjoy’ – Deriving happiness only if others appreciate or validate us. (Like wearing a new kurta and being upset no one noticed.)
- Envious sadism (The lowest): ‘I’ll enjoy more if others suffer by comparison’ – Wanting others to feel deprived so we can feel superior. That’s Duryodhana.
Duryodhana reaching level 4 is a reminder of what happens when we remove Krishna from the reference point: we become hungry ghosts, unsatisfied no matter what we have.
Even after getting a kingdom, he wanted Pandavas to feel bad about it. That’s the psychology of envy—not “I want what you have,” but “I don’t want you to have it.”
There was even a commercial once: “Buy our television and enjoy the envy in your neighbor’s eyes!” Duryodhana would’ve approved.
Rebooting the Mind’s browser
But Krishna had other plans. The Gandharvas captured Duryodhana during his arrogant forest expedition. Bhima rejoiced, but Yudhishthira said, “Let us rescue him. That’ll really sting his ego.” And it did. Duryodhana was humiliated—not because he did wrong, but because he was caught. He planned suicide. A tragic tale of envy gone sour.
This is where we end up if we don’t root ourselves in Krishna. Without Krishna-referencing, we slide from comparison to craving to toxicity.
So let us make Krishna the reference point of our life. Let us reboot the browser of the mind. If we keep choosing Bhagavad Gita over Bollywood.com, one day, even our auto-suggestions will change.
Daily practises during the Transition lag
“Transition lag” refers to the uncomfortable period between letting go of old habits and fully settling into new, healthier ones—especially when the mind and senses haven’t yet caught up with your spiritual decision. Transition lag is the tug-of-war phase between the past and the potential.
Examples in Devotional Life:
You’ve decided to give up movies, but your mind still hums old Bollywood songs during japa.
You want to wake up for mangal arati, but your body screams for the snooze button.
You want to genuinely appreciate a devotee’s service, but envy keeps creeping in.
You’ve made the decision to change, but the experience hasn’t aligned yet. That’s transition lag.
It relates to neuroplasticity—the brain’s ability to rewire. But rewiring takes time. While you’re building new pathways (chanting, studying scripture, serving sincerely), the old ones (sense gratification, ego reactions) still fire automatically.
Just continue and stay on course…
Bhagavad-gītā 2.59 captures it:
“Though the embodied soul may be restricted from sense enjoyment, the taste for sense objects remains. But, by experiencing a higher taste, he becomes fixed in consciousness.”
The taste stays for a while even after you stop indulging. But as you persist, rasa awakens. That’s the end of transition lag.
Transition lag is that liminal zone between the old self and the new self. That’s when you feel spiritually dry, emotionally turbulent, and sometimes discouraging. But this is also a necessary cocoon before transformation.
The key is to stay the course. As you do, Krishna slowly shifts from being a name on your tongue to being the joy of your heart.
Therefore, we just continue to practise and affirm. In modern psychology, Hebb’s Law says: “Neurons that fire together wire together.” This means that repeated experiences strengthen the neural pathways involved in those experiences. The more you do something, think something, or feel something, the more ingrained it becomes in your brain’s wiring.
It’s the science of habit formation—and in devotional life, sādhana is spiritual habit-building.
Sādhana-bhakti, or regulated devotional practice, involves consciously repeating activities that awaken devotion, such as: Chanting Krishna’s names; Hearing śāstra and harikatha; Worshiping the deity; Serving devotees; Living a life favorable to Bhakti.
Initially, these may feel mechanical or uninspired. But every repetition lays a brick in your spiritual neural highway.
The science of Sadhana Bhakti
Imagine walking through a dense forest. The first time, it’s hard—you’re cutting through branches, tripping on roots. But if you keep walking the same path every day, it becomes a trail. Eventually, it’s a smooth road.
That’s how chanting rounds, waking up for mangal arati, or even controlling the tongue starts out difficult. But repetition wires the brain, and soon it becomes second nature.
In the Bhagavad Gita, 6.35, Lord Krishna says, “By constant practice and detachment, the mind can be controlled.”
Krishna is literally saying: “Fire it enough times, and it will wire!”
Just like gym workouts feel painful before muscles grow, sādhana feels mechanical before neural rewiring begins. That’s the transition lag we talked about.
Just stick with it. Every round of japa, every moment you restrain the tongue, every time you say “No” to Maya and “Yes” to Krishna, you are rewiring your brain for eternity.
If you repeatedly chant Krishna’s name, hear His pastimes, and serve devotees, your internal circuitry changes. Eventually, typing B in your inner browser brings up Bhagavad Gita, not Bollywood.
Srila Prabhupada writes: “The tongue is the most voracious and the most untamable of all senses. But if it is engaged in tasting Krishna prasadam and chanting His name, all other senses will automatically come under control.”
Yes, it hurts to say no to sense gratification. But it hurts more to stay trapped in a life of jealousy, comparison, and self-centered misery. The soul is naturally blissful in Krishna consciousness.
We just have to get through the transition lag—that awkward in-between stage when your inner browser keeps offering old links. But keep typing “Krishna,” again and again. Eventually, He’ll appear.
And when He does, all the pain of letting go will feel like a small price for such a divine reward.
We’ll be peaceful in our own skin. We’ll be joyful with our own sweet on our own plate.
And life will be beautiful.
