Buy Now

It’s this bridge between the sacred and the secular, the divine and the mundane, that makes My Gita a uniquely accessible read. Whether you identify as a theist, atheist, or agnostic, Pattanaik’s prose doesn’t exclude you. In fact, it welcomes you — your questions, your skepticism, your beliefs, and even your contradictions. He doesn’t ask you to accept Krishna. He asks you to understand why Krishna is, and in that journey, perhaps understand why you are.

One of the most stunning segments in the book is the chapter that delves into love. This isn’t Bollywood romance or poetic mush. This is love that confronts the self — that strips bare the ego, exposes the expectations we tie to affection, and challenges the possessiveness we often mistake for care. Pattanaik does not just define love; he almost weaponizes it in a philosophical sense. The way he unpacks the idea — that love in the Gita is not about attachment but about awareness — quietly disturbs your psychic comfort zone. It hits deep. Not like a punch, but like a realization you've had before but were too scared to name.

Another cerebral treat in the book is the comparison between Hanuman and Arjuna — a segment that might change the way you view divinity, devotion, and duty. Pattanaik asks, why is Hanuman worshipped as a god, while Arjuna is remembered as a mortal warrior? Both were servants of God, both were deeply devoted, both stood at the cusp of great wars. The answer, according to Pattanaik, lies not just in what they did, but how they surrendered. Hanuman serves without questioning, with absolute faith. Arjuna, on the other hand, hesitates, questions, doubts — very human, very relatable. This contrast doesn’t just provoke comparison, it also redefines heroism, making us wonder whether divinity is less about power and more about the ego-less act of letting go.

It’s these moments — where the book gently questions your assumptions — that make My Gita not just a spiritual guide but a catalyst for intellectual re-examination.

The Style: Intimate and Inclusive

Pattanaik doesn’t write at you. He writes with you. The book is segmented by themes rather than strict chapters, allowing you to absorb one idea at a time without being burdened by linearity. You can open any page and begin reading. It still makes sense. In a way, the book mirrors the Gita itself — which was a conversation suspended in the middle of a battlefield, not in a lecture hall.

And this is where Devdutt wins: he doesn’t just translate the Gita; he interprets it — through his lens, yes, but in a way that makes space for your lens too. Whether you believe in Krishna or not, you’ll find yourself listening to him.

The Unfinished Wholeness

That said, the book isn’t without its gaps. In his attempt to make the Gita accessible, Pattanaik sometimes leaves out dense and complex verses that are core to the original text. For a reader seeking a line-by-line exposition or a more traditionally faithful commentary, this might feel lacking. There’s also a certain lyrical romanticism in his interpretation — it’s more poetic than rigorous, more intuitive than scholarly. And yet, that contradiction — the fusion of practical insight and philosophical poetry — somehow works. It shouldn’t. But it does. It’s like having chai that’s both sweet and salty — confusing at first, but surprisingly memorable.

Final Reflections

My Gita is not a replacement for the Bhagavad Gita. It’s not meant to be. Instead, it is a door. Not the only one, but a gentle, well-crafted, inviting door. One that opens into the inner chambers of doubt, courage, surrender, and self-awareness. It doesn’t shout answers. It hands you tools to find your own.

For me, reading it during quiet winter mornings, where time itself seemed to slow down and breath became audible, added a layer of stillness that I will forever associate with this book. It wasn’t just about understanding Krishna. It became about understanding why I struggle to understand myself.

This book is a must-read for anyone feeling confused, directionless, or overwhelmed by the complexities of life. It doesn’t promise answers, but it offers a lens — a way to begin seeing things with more clarity and calm. For those interested in exploring Indian sacred texts but unsure where to begin, My Gita is a gentle and powerful introduction. I read this before reading the Bhagavad Gita itself, and in many ways, it gave me the map I didn’t know I needed. It prepared me — not just to read the Gita, but to receive it.