Representative Image / Generated using AI

Many Indians living abroad today are facing a quiet but profound uncertainty.

Visa renewals that once felt routine now feel unpredictable. Jobs that seemed secure are suddenly fragile. Careers are being reshaped—not always by choice, but by forces like automation and artificial intelligence that are redefining what work even means. The broader world feels unsettled, shaped by conflict, economic pressure, and rapid change.

For many, the outer life still looks successful. Nothing has visibly collapsed.

But inside, something has shifted.

A question begins to surface—not always spoken, but deeply felt:

What now?

For a long time, the script was clear. Study hard, build a career, move abroad, create stability—for yourself and your family. That script hasn’t disappeared, but it no longer guarantees what it once did. And when external certainty weakens, something deeper begins to surface—not just questions about jobs or visas, but questions about direction, identity, and how to live when the ground itself feels less stable.

Also Read: Trump immigration hurting US innovation says expert

Most of us try to answer these questions using a familiar framework: follow your passion, find your purpose, live a meaningful life. This sequence has shaped how we think about fulfillment, success, and even identity.

But in moments like these, it begins to show its limits.

I have seen this not only in the people I work with, but in my own life.

For years, I have been clear about my purpose. I have felt that my work is to integrate Indic wisdom with business and the brain sciences—to bridge inner understanding with outer action. That clarity has guided many of my choices.

And yet, I have often felt unsettled.

Not because I lacked direction, but because something in how I was relating to what I was doing was not steady. That was not easy to admit. We are taught to believe that once purpose is clear, things should fall into place. But they don’t always.

I have also followed passion. When the Macintosh first came out, I was deeply drawn to it—not just as a product, but as a new way of thinking. Years later, I felt the same about the Toyota Prius—not just as a car, but as a shift in how we relate to energy and sustainability.

But over time, something subtle changed. My passion moved from what I had seen to what I began defending. I found myself arguing for the Mac, defending the Prius, becoming attached to the form. And in that process, the original insight—the reason I was drawn to these things—got lost.

That was a revealing moment.

Passion, by itself, does not have discernment. It is energy. And energy without clarity can mislead. It can create attachment, reactivity, even conflict. Passion is often treated as a compass, but it is not. It is a force—and without clarity, it can create as much confusion as it does movement.

Purpose is meant to give direction. But purpose, too, can quietly become pressure. Even with a clear sense of purpose, I noticed a need to live up to it, a subtle guilt when I felt I was falling short, pride when things aligned, and unease when they did not. Purpose had become something I was carrying.

I began to see this pattern in many of the people I work with. Highly successful individuals—people who have achieved what they set out to achieve—still struggle with self-doubt, imposter syndrome, and a quiet sense of not being enough. Even after success. Sometimes, even after reaching what they thought they wanted, they feel empty or strangely disconnected.

Meaning is often presented as the resolution. If life has meaning, everything should make sense. But meaning is not something built into our achievements. It arises from how we interpret what is happening. Two people can live similar lives—one experiences fulfillment, another experiences emptiness. The difference is not the situation. It is how they are holding it.

I have had moments where, after achieving something I deeply wanted, I felt unexpectedly empty. Not because the achievement did not matter, but because something in me did not know how to relate to it. Meaning did not automatically follow success.

At some point, I began to see that the issue was not passion, purpose, or meaning themselves. It was how I was relating to them.

This is where the Bhagavad Gita becomes relevant—not as a source of answers, but as a way of reframing the questions.

The Gita begins not with clarity, but with confusion. Arjuna stands in the middle of a situation he cannot avoid and finds himself unable to act. He is not unqualified. He is not unprepared. But he is overwhelmed. He says simply, “I am confused about what is right” (2.7).

That moment feels familiar today. Many people are not lacking capability. They are navigating uncertainty.

What follows in the Gita is not a search for passion or a discovery of purpose. It is a reframing of both.

Passion is not treated as guidance. It is recognized as energy—something that must be held with discernment. Purpose is not framed as a fixed identity or a grand life mission. It is understood as dharma—what is appropriate to do in a given context. And even that comes with a crucial shift: “You have a role in action, but not in controlling outcomes” (2.47).

In a world where outcomes—jobs, visas, markets, technologies—are increasingly unpredictable, this insight becomes practical. It shifts attention from trying to control what cannot be controlled to understanding how we engage with what is in front of us.

Meaning, too, is reframed—not as something to construct, but as something that becomes lighter when we are less bound by our reactions. “Act with steadiness, without being disturbed by success or failure” (2.48). This is not detachment from life. It is a different way of being in it.

At some point, this became clearer to me. It is not the purpose itself that brings clarity. It is how that purpose shapes what I do—and how I relate to what I do.

When that shifts, something subtle happens. Passion becomes energy that is guided rather than consuming. Purpose becomes participation rather than pressure. Meaning becomes lighter, no longer something to chase.

For many Indians living abroad today, the external script is changing. The question is no longer just what to do next, but how to relate to what is happening without being overwhelmed.

The Gita does not remove uncertainty. It reframes how we stand within it.

Passion moves us. Purpose directs us. Meaning interprets our experience. But all three can bind us if we do not see clearly.

Clarity does not come from changing what we do. It comes from seeing how we are relating to what we do.

And when that shifts, life continues, action continues—but the weight begins to lift.

That shift—not passion, not purpose, not meaning—is what many of us are actually searching for.

 

The writer is the co-founder of the Institute of Indic Wisdom.

 

 

(The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of New India Abroad.)

Discover more stories on New India Abroad