In the Bhagavad Gita, Lord Krishna repeatedly cautions against the craving for attention, honour, and fame. In verse 16.3, He states that those born with divine qualities are “not desirous of excessive honour.” In contrast, He describes the demonic-minded as “self-honoured, insensitive, and full of pride in wealth and prestige” (16.17).
The difference is clear: Saintly souls, like Sanatan Goswami, lived humbly, guiding villagers with solutions for everyday problems and serving as examples of ideal behaviour, while people of demonic tendencies thrive on noise, display, and disturbance. Krishna further warns about false austerity undertaken for show: “They do so for gaining respect, honour and reverence, and it is done deceitfully. It has no lasting effect” (17.18). Honour and dishonour, He teaches, are fleeting — just like pleasure nd pain. Even the noblest souls face criticism; pleasing everyone is impossible. Just as heat and cold must be endured, so too must praise and blame. “The contact between senses and their objects are givers of cold, heat, pleasure and misery. Being temporary, they come and go; tolerate them” (2.14). So what is the ideal attitude? Krishna advises: “For the conqueror of self, who is blissfully peaceful in cold and heat, in pleasure and pain, as well as in honour and dishonour, he is accompanied by God” (6.7). Equanimity is the key. A person steady in both praise and blame becomes dear to the Lord (12.19). Such steadiness also frees one from the binding influence of the material modes. Otherwise, the desire for recognition becomes a trap.
A preacher, for example, may begin with sincerity, but when intoxicated by fame, he becomes bound by the mode of goodness or passion, losing focus on God. Businessmen, too, often fall into this cycle — doing well but then craving applause, only to be undone by ego. From these teachings, I have learnt that craving honour extracts a heavy price. It makes us restless, often pushing us to unwise choices. In my own work life, I experienced this. Once, our company prepared a flawless proposal for a nationally important project. I expected recognition, but to my shock, our design was rejected outright.
In another case, a mistake in our quotation put us at risk of loss. Initially anxious, I turned to God for guidance. Soon, I found a valid reason to withdraw gracefully before the damage was done. On another occasion, God inspired me with a radical idea for our company. Instead of forcing my view, I gently engaged a colleague, guiding him to see flaws in our existing methods.
When he later championed the new approach, the company benefitted — and he got the credit. I felt relief, not envy, for the outcome served the larger good. This shift in attitude has also transformed my family relationships. Earlier, I would preach from a superior stance. Naturally, no one listened. Then God showed me a better way: Appreciating them for what they did right, listening more than I spoke. Suddenly, they became open, even willing to share their own wisdom. By giving honour, I received attention in return — and harmony replaced resistance. Ultimately, the Gita’s wisdom is timeless. Honour and dishonour will always come and go. The wise do not chase them. By taking shelter of God, maintaining balance, and honouring others instead of demanding it for ourselves, life becomes lighter, relationships sweeter, and the soul closer to peace.
The writer is a spiritual teacher