No, Dharma Isn’t What You Think It Is
- Rohan Chandratre
- Jun 23
- 12 min read
Updated: Jun 28
Imagine this: you’re sitting with a wise old friend, talking about life. The topic drifts to dharma, a word we’ve heard from grandparents, in the news, or in stories of Ram and Krishna. For many of us, dharma sounds like a heavy word. It’s often translated as “duty” or “religion” or the rules one must follow. Maybe you picture a cosmic rulebook. Or the heroic, rigid actions of King Harishchandra or Ram giving up everything to keep a promise.
But is dharma really just about rules and sacrifice, even when your heart breaks?
I’d like to take a step back with you, just pause for a moment, and wonder if there’s something else at its core. Maybe something gentler. Something more personal.
What if dharma is not about just a dry obligation but something more alive and compassionate like karuṇā (inner compassion) and understanding, that naturally guides us to do the right thing?
What Is Dharma, Really?
At its root, dharma comes from the Sanskrit "dhṛ", which means “to uphold” or “to support”. Often it’s explained as the principle that upholds life, righteousness, and the cosmic order. Sounds grand, right? In the old texts, they say “Dharmo rakṣati rakṣitaḥ”, धर्मो रक्षति रक्षितः, meaning “Dharma protects those who uphold it” ¹. It implies that living by the rules or righteounness shields us in return. Yet, if we leave it at that, it still feels like an external rule: “Do your dharma, or else!” Many young people, understandably, shy away when they hear the word because it’s often presented as a strict code or duty hammered down by tradition.
But our wise friend (let’s call him Krishna, why not?) winks and says: “True dharma is not a rulebook, it’s an inner compass.” It’s that voice in your heart that naturally says “this is the right thing to do” when your mind and ego aren’t in the way.
In our epics and scriptures, whenever a hero gets confused about what their duty is, the resolution always comes from turning within, through wisdom, love, and compassion. The Bhagavad Gita itself is essentially a conversation about finding one’s dharma through inner understanding: Arjun is paralyzed on the battlefield, torn between his duty as a warrior and his compassion for his family on the opposite side. He tells Krishna, “I am confused about my duty and am surrendering to you. Please instruct me.” (शिष्यस्तेऽहं शाधि मां त्वां प्रपन्नम् ॥ śiṣyas te ’haṁ śādhi māṁ tvāṁ prapannam, BG 2.7 ²). In that vulnerable surrender, Arjun isn’t asking for a list of commands; he’s asking for clarity and wisdom.
And what does Krishna give? Not a simple “Go fight because I said so.” Instead Krishna spends 700 verses weaving together philosophy, examples, even a bit of humor, to guide Arjun to a deep understanding of life, duty, and self. He essentially says: act with wisdom and love, without selfishness, and you’ll do the right thing. In one of the most famous verses, he tells Arjun: “Sarva-dharmān parityajya mām ekaṁ śaraṇaṁ vraja,” meaning, give up all ideas of dharma and simply surrender unto Me alone ³. At first, this sounds like he’s saying “forget your responsibilities,” but that’s not it. Krishna here stands for something bigger — the voice of truth, love, and inner clarity. When we act from that space, we won’t go wrong.
Dharma isn’t about blindly forcing yourself to follow rules; it’s about becoming the kind of person who naturally does what is right, guided by compassion and understanding.
So, our chai pe charcha conclusion so far: Dharma is more like an inner quality than an outer checkbox. It’s what naturally flows from a heart that is wise and kind. In fact, one Vedic mantra says: “Ātmano mokṣārtham jagat hitāya cha”, आत्मनो मोक्षार्थं जगत् हिताय च, meaning “Strive for your own spiritual growth and for the welfare of the world” ⁴.
In other words, true spirituality joins inner wisdom with compassionate action. You uplift yourself and everyone else. The ancient sages didn’t see a conflict between personal enlightenment and doing good for others; both are two sides of living one’s dharma.
How to Find Your Dharma?
What is right will vary by person and context. A doctor’s Dharma in an epidemic might mean breaking a protocol to save a life. A student’s Dharma might mean respectfully telling parents about a chosen career path rather than the one expected by tradition, because living truthfully is more dharmic than living a lie to please others.
We each have a “Swadharma,” a personal calling or duty that resonates with our own nature and circumstances. The Gita says, "śreyān sva-dharmo viguṇaḥ para-dharmāt sv-anuṣṭhitāt", श्रेयान् स्वधर्मो विगुणः परधर्मात्स्वनुष्ठितात्, (Bhagavad Gita 3.35) meaning “Better to follow one’s own dharma, even with flaws, than to follow someone else’s perfectly” ⁵. This doesn’t mean you should just do whatever you feel like; it’s a call to authenticity. It means it’s better to follow your own path (even if you’re not perfect at it) than to live someone else’s life just because it seems more successful or polished. Your dharma is about being true to who you are and the role that life has given you. It’s not about being perfect; it’s about being real.
More importantly, Dharma is not about selfish desires, it’s about the greater good as it applies to you. It’s your duty, but defined by how your actions affect everyone around you. Think of a simple everyday scenario: You witness a friend being bullied. The “rule” among classmates might be to mind your own business to avoid trouble. But your heart knows the right thing is to stand by your friend. Standing up to a bully might break the social norm of silence, and it may even put you at risk socially, but it is dharma in that moment because it arises from empathy and courage. Context can override convention.
This is why conscience (that inner voice) is so important in Dharma. Our saints and philosophers always emphasized developing an inner ear for righteousness. Sant Tukaram, a 17th-century poet-saint, sang that true saints see the suffering of others as their own, “The destitute and the downtrodden, who considers as his own, he alone is to be recognized as a Saint; God is to be experienced only there” ⁶. Such empathy is the soul of Dharma. Tukaram even boldly said: “Compassion be called protecting beings (and uprooting evil)” , meaning real compassion isn’t just a passive feeling; it may demand actively righting wrongs to protect others ⁶.
Dharma may lead one person to pick up a sword to defend the innocent, and lead another to lay down a sword to promote peace. Both can be Dharma, if born from genuine awareness, empathy, and love.
There is no one-size-fits-all rulebook for a life of righteousness, and that is beautiful, because life itself is ever-changing and nuanced.
What Helps You Strengthen Your Sense of Dharma?
Okay, if dharma is an inner compass, what polishes that compass? What makes it point true north? Our friend Krishna across the table might chuckle and outline a few key ingredients that tune us into dharma. In our Indian tradition, these ingredients have beautiful names: Gyaan (wisdom), Prem (love), Nyaya (justice/rightfulness), Samarpan (surrender), and Dheeraj (patience). Let’s unpack these one by one (with a few stories and wise quotes along the way):
Gyaan (Wisdom)
This isn’t just book-knowledge, but a deep understanding of life, seeing things as they are. Wisdom is what lets us distinguish between the noise of our ego and the voice of dharma. Remember Arjun’s confusion? It was knowledge that cleared it. Krishna gave him “jnāna-dīpena bhāsvatā”, the “bright lamp of knowledge” to dispel the darkness of doubt ⁷. When we cultivate wisdom, we start seeing all beings with an equal eye. The Gita says a wise person sees the same divine spark in a learned brahmin, a cow, an elephant, or even a dog ⁸. That vision naturally makes you compassionate, because you realize everyone is inherently connected.
In the Upanishads, it’s said: “Isha vasyam idam sarvam”, the Divine pervades everything in this world. When wisdom dawns, you don’t need a rule “be kind to others”, you feel others are in some way part of you, so kindness flows automatically, right? Our saints like Sant Dnyaneshwar embodied this: he was a brilliant young yogi (his name literally means “Lord of Wisdom”), but his wisdom only made him more compassionate. Wisdom, when real, always walks hand-in-hand with humility and compassion.
Prem (Love)
Love is the soul of dharma. If wisdom makes us see all beings as one, love makes us embrace them in our heart. Without love, duty can become dry or even cruel. With love, even a simple act becomes full of dharma. A beautiful example is from the Ramayan: the story of Shabari. Shabari was a humble old woman who had nothing fancy to offer Lord Ram when he visited her hut, so she offered berries, but she had lovingly tasted each berry first to make sure only the sweet ones went to her beloved Lord ⁹. By formal standards, this was a big no-no (tasting food before offering it to a guest or God is considered impure). Ram’s brother Lakshmana was hesitant, pointing it out. But Ram smiled and ate the tasted berries with relish . “Nothing could equal these berries, offered with such devotion,” he said . In fact, he told Lakshmana that if anyone offers even a leaf or a drop of water with love, he joyfully accepts it . Love transforms an ordinary berry into prasad (blessed offering). Ram cared more about Shabari’s devotion than any ritual formality.
Nyāya (Justice and Truth)
This might sound less “warm and fuzzy,” but it’s an essential part of dharma. Nyāya means justice, fairness, doing right by others, and it is deeply connected to truth (satya). If love is the heart of dharma, truth is like its backbone.
Yudhisthir in the Mahabharat is called Dharmaraj precisely because of his dedication to truth and fairness (sometimes to a fault). But even Yudhisthir had to learn that compassion is the highest justice, when faced with moral dilemmas, he often chose forgiveness over punishment. A lovely teaching from the Anusasana Parva of Mahabharat says: “Ahimsa paramo dharmaḥ, dharma hiṃsā tathaiva cha”, अहिंसा परमो धर्मः धर्म हिंसा तथैव च, which means “Non-violence is the highest dharma, and so too is violence (if used) to protect dharma” ¹⁰. This seems contradictory, but it’s pointing out that true justice isn’t blind rigidity, the purpose is to prevent harm. Sometimes, tough love or strong action is needed to stop greater harm (like restraining a tyrant to protect the people). But the guiding motive must be compassion, not revenge.
So, nyāya in dharma is never about self-righteous anger; it’s about restoring balance with a caring heart. When Krishna helped Arjun fight the war, it was not out of hatred for the Kauravas, but to end an injustice that was destroying the fabric of society.
Justice, in its true sense, is love applied rationally.
It ensures that our compassion doesn’t become indulgence for wrongs, and that our truth doesn’t become cruelty.
Samarpan (Surrender and Humility)
This is a big one in our tradition. Surrender doesn’t mean giving up your thinking or becoming a doormat, it means offering your ego and ego-driven desires at the feet of a higher reality. It’s saying, “I trust the larger plan, and I’ll do my part without stubborn pride.”
In the context of dharma, samarpan is what stops duty from becoming arrogance. When you surrender to the Divine or to the principle of Truth, you become an instrument of dharma rather than an enforcer of your own will. As we already know, Krishna in the Gita culminates his teaching with: “mām ekaṁ śaraṇaṁ vraja”, take refuge in Me alone ³. This śaraṇāgati (surrender) is the essence of bhakti yog. It means, “Do your best, but remember, you’re not the ultimate doer or controller.”
Surrender, paradoxically, empowers us. Have you noticed in life, when you’re humble and open, you somehow make the right choices more often? It’s like tuning into the universe’s guidance. When we let go of the need to control every outcome, we become lighter, calmer, and more focused on what truly matters. Our energy stops being wasted on anxiety or comparison, and instead flows into action rooted in clarity and inner peace.
Surrender doesn’t make us passive, it sharpens our awareness and frees us from ego-driven reactions. It allows us to move forward without fear, because we’re no longer carrying the burden of needing everything to go our way. Our saints lived in samarpan, not because they were weak, but because they were strong enough to trust. So samarpan is about trust. It’s the deep breath that says, “I’ll do the righteous thing as I understand it, and I trust the universe or God to take care of the rest.” With that surrender, dharma stops being stressful, it becomes a joyful service.
Dheeraj (Patience and Forbearance)
Doing the right thing isn’t always fast, easy, or rewarding in the short term. Life often demands patience, quiet endurance, and steady effort over time. In today’s instant-gratification world, we sometimes forget the quiet power of bearing hardship with grace. But our scriptures hold patience in the highest regard. The Bhagavad Gita reminds us to face life’s dualities, heat and cold, joy and sorrow, as if they were passing seasons, saying: “they come and go, and are impermanent; endure them” ¹¹. Why? Because holding steady through life’s storms builds inner strength.
Every time we stick to dharma despite difficulty, we grow spiritually. Think of a mother who wakes night after night for her newborn, or a startup founder grinding through years of uncertainty without giving up their values, or a young person caring for aging parents while juggling work and life. Or even someone quietly healing from grief or illness, choosing every day to keep showing up. These people live dheeraj. They show us that when you go through pain for love, integrity, or a higher purpose; it stops being “just pain.” It becomes sacred.
When suffering is met with meaning, it becomes tapasya, a fire that doesn’t destroy but purifies. Hardship faced with patience burns away ego, pride, and selfishness, revealing our deeper strength. We even begin to find a strange joy in the trial, because we sense we’re becoming more real.
Think of someone like Neeraj Chopra, who patiently trained for years, through injury, doubt, and obscurity, before becoming an Olympic champion. Or Sonam Wangchuk, who quietly works in the harsh terrain of Ladakh, innovating for sustainability and education without chasing fame. Or a farmer who continues to sow crops through droughts and debt, trusting the land and the rain. These people don’t escape hardship, they walk through it with grace and conviction. We don’t need to seek out pain. But when life tests us, dheeraj helps us breathe through it, knowing that love, truth, and growth matter more than comfort.
Living Dharma: In Small Acts, With Great Love
As the chai cools and the conversation winds down, let’s return to something simple:
Dharma is connection. Connection to your higher self, your inner compass. Connection to others, through love, fairness, and empathy. And connection to the Universe or Divine, through trust, humility, and surrender.
When this connection is alive, you don’t ask, “What rule should I follow?”
You feel what is right, and you do it with courage and compassion.
It might be something small: helping a friend even when you’re exhausted.
Or something bigger: speaking an uncomfortable truth when silence feels safer.
If it rises from a place of karuṇā (compassion) and awareness, it is dharma.
We often imagine dharma only on mythic battlefields or in sacred texts.
But real dharma shows up in ordinary moments.
When you choose kindness over gossip at work.
When you explain something patiently for the tenth time to your sibling.
When you forgive someone you could easily resent.
When you forgive yourself.
These moments may seem small, but they shape your soul.
A deep sign of true dharma is the feeling that follows it.
Not pride. Not superiority.
But a quiet joy, a steady calm peace.
Even when it’s difficult.
That’s because the right thing isn’t always easy.
It may sting the ego, challenge our comfort, or require sacrifice.
But because it’s born of truth, it leads to fulfillment.
In contrast, easy indulgence often feels like nectar at first, and becomes poison later, leaving guilt, regret, or emptiness.
So ask yourself—not just, “What should I do?” but, “What brings peace after the storm?” That’s often where dharma lives.
When I reflect on figures like Shri Ram, Shri Krishna, Arjun, Buddha, Sant Tukaram, or Dnyaneshwar, I don’t see people just bound by duty. I see people liberated by love, clarity, and surrender.
And yes, maybe that is why Yudhishthir’s answer still matters.
After the Kurukshetra war, when asked “What is the greatest wonder?”, he replies:
What better reminder?
Life is brief. And precious.
At the end, what will matter isn’t how tightly we clung to rules,
but how deeply we loved, how honestly we lived,
and how peacefully we let go.
So live your dharma. Not as a burden. But as a blessing.
In small acts, with great love.
With compassion, with awareness, with wisdom.
That is the true essence of dharma.