Yoga is not about " Getting", it is all about "Giving"

Every year, on the International Day of Yoga, millions of people gather across the world to practice asanas, chant mantras, and celebrate an ancient tradition that has guided humanity for millennia. It is a beautiful expression of a timeless wisdom. Yet, amidst the celebrations, I find myself returning to a single question that has the power to transform not only our yoga practice but our entire way of living.

Why are we here?

Do we come to Yoga seeking better health, greater flexibility, peace of mind, or success? Or is Yoga inviting us to discover something much deeper? I believe the answer lies in a simple shift of perspective. Instead of asking, "What do I get?" we begin asking, "What can I give?"

Modern society encourages us to evaluate everything in terms of personal benefit. We join organizations and wonder what advantages they offer. We attend courses and ask what certificates we will receive. We seek teachers and silently calculate what knowledge, recognition, or power we might gain. Without realizing it, life becomes a continuous transaction, and relationships become exchanges rather than opportunities for growth.

Yoga speaks a different language. It teaches that fulfillment comes not through accumulation but through contribution. The moment we begin asking what we can offer instead of what we can obtain, something profound changes within us. The heart opens, the mind becomes lighter, and life itself acquires a deeper meaning.

Our scriptures describe human birth as one of the rarest blessings in existence. Yet merely possessing a human body does not automatically make us human. Every day we are challenged by desire, anger, greed, attachment, pride, and jealousy. These tendencies pull us away from our higher nature and reduce our responses to instinct rather than wisdom. Yoga is the conscious journey of returning to our true humanity by choosing compassion over anger, generosity over greed, humility over pride, and understanding over judgment.

During my interactions with students, I often invite them to perform a simple exercise. I ask everyone to make a tight fist and hold it tighter and tighter. After a few moments, I ask them to release it completely. Almost instantly, their faces soften and their shoulders relax. I then ask a simple question: "When did you feel happier—while holding tightly or while letting go?" The answer is always the same.

This little experiment reveals one of the greatest teachings of Yoga. We spend much of our lives holding tightly to expectations, identities, achievements, opinions, and possessions. We cling so firmly that there is little room left for grace. An open hand can receive, but it can also give. Perhaps the heart functions in exactly the same way. When we let go, the Divine finds space to flow through us, and the blessings of the Guru Parampara naturally express themselves in our thoughts, words, and actions.

People occasionally ask me, "Guruji, if I become your student, what will I gain?" It is an understandable question, but it reflects a mindset of acquisition. The question that truly touches my heart is different: "How may I serve? What can I contribute? How can I share what I receive?" Such a person is already walking the path of Yoga, because Yoga is not a marketplace where wisdom is bought and sold. It is a sacred tradition sustained by humility, gratitude, service, and sharing.

In today's world, Yoga is often measured by visible accomplishments. How advanced is your posture? How long can you remain in headstand? How many scriptures have you memorized? How many followers do you have on social media? These may all be admirable achievements, but they do not define a yogi.

The real measure of Yoga is remarkably simple: Who are you when nobody is watching? When there is no camera, no teacher, no audience, and no expectation of recognition, do kindness, honesty, compassion, and integrity still guide your actions? If they do, then Yoga has become a living reality rather than a performance. If our behavior changes depending on who is observing us, it is merely conditioning and not transformation.

At the conclusion of the Bhagavad Gita, Sri Krishna offers one of the most profound invitations in spiritual literature: "Tasmād yogī bhavārjuna" — "Therefore, become a yogi, O Arjuna." Arjuna represents each one of us, standing every day on the battlefield of life, choosing between selfishness and service, fear and courage, accumulation and generosity.

The world does not urgently need more people capable of extraordinary postures. It needs more people capable of extraordinary kindness. It needs individuals who instinctively ask, "What can I give?" instead of "What will I get?" That single change in perspective has the power to transform families, communities, institutions, and ultimately the world itself.

International Day of Yoga is therefore much more than a celebration of an ancient practice. It is an annual reminder of our highest human potential. A yogi is not one who merely practices yoga for an hour each day but one who lives nobly, consciously, and compassionately in every moment.

May our hands remain open. May our hearts remain open. May our lives become instruments through which wisdom, love, and selfless service flow effortlessly into the world. And may the question that guides every action, every relationship, and every step of our journey always be the simplest and the most transformative:

Not "What do I get?" but "What can I give?"