To be honest, I was reeling from a loss. Not the dramatic kind. Just one of those quiet defeats that only you know about — a blog post I poured my heart into had tanked. Zero engagement. Not even a pity comment from my closest friend. I remember staring at the screen thinking: “Was this all a waste?”

That’s when I stumbled upon Chapter 2, Shloka 40. The Sanskrit was daunting at first, but the translation softened something in me:
“In this path, no effort is ever lost, and there is no danger of adverse results.”

And just like that — perspective shifted. I wasn’t a failure. I was just measuring with the wrong scale.

What It Means When You’re Told ‘No Effort Is Wasted’

In Indian households, we grow up with a certain script: if it doesn’t pay off, why do it? We are fed success stories, not effort stories. The Gita disrupts that. Krishna doesn’t speak of outcome. He speaks of karma that’s done without attachment — and that includes the ones nobody notices.

Old people used to say, “Tulsi pe paani chhodo. Bhagwan dekhenge.” they’d water the plant daily, even during harsh December winds. And they were n’t waiting for it to bloom . they just believed in the act. Now that I think about it, those old people lived Shloka 2.40 — effortlessly.

The world will tell you your unpublished poem, your failed attempt at kindness, your second blog that no one read — were all for nothing. But if you believe the Gita — and I do, with more years and tears now — they weren’t.

This Shloka Isn’t Just for Saints. It’s for Us.

See, we often put the Gita on a pedestal — something monks and mystics read in ashrams. But this verse? It’s for a struggling student in Allahabad. A housewife in Pune who writes poetry at 2 AM. A delivery guy who pauses to pet a street dog. This shloka reminds us: sincerity counts. Not success.

And that matters — in a world that moves fast and forgets faster.

Sometimes I think the internet broke our sense of meaning. Everything’s analytics now. Clicks. Bounce rate. Shareability. But Krishna whispers, across time: “Do it anyway.” Write it anyway. Water the tulsi. Publish the post. Take the stand. Offer the prayer. Someone, somewhere — maybe not human — keeps the score differently.

Explore more: How the Gita Still Guides Modern Creators

But I had. For days. I had scribbled formulas on walls. Recited the multiplication table while brushing my teeth. Asked my cousin for help. Still, I failed.

And something cracked inside me. Not because I didn’t succeed. But because no one saw the effort. Because in a typical Indian middle-class home, effort only counts if it delivers.

The Tyranny of Results

We’ve grown up in a culture of rank cards and government exams, of board cutoffs and dowry negotiations disguised as career prospects. Somewhere along the line, “Did you try?” got replaced with “Did you win?”

And in this ruthless ecosystem, Shloka 2.40 of the Bhagavad Gita sounds… almost rebellious:

“No effort on this path is ever wasted. Even a little practice protects one from great danger.”

You hear that and think — wait, what? Even failed effort? Even the lost cause? Even that UPSC attempt where you made it to the interview stage but fell short? Yes. That, too.

It’s radical. Especially for a society like ours where we equate worth with outcome.

A Letter My Friend Never Sent

In 2020, during the lockdown, a friend of mine — let’s call her Anjali — decided to write handwritten letters to her old teachers. Just to thank them. She never posted them. Said she felt silly. What’s the point if they may never read it?

But I read one. It was beautiful. Honest. Wobbly handwriting. Ink blots. But you could feel the gratitude radiating from the page.

To this day, I believe that act changed her. She stood taller afterward. Like she had done something… complete. That’s what the Gita means. The act has merit — even if no one claps.

See how small, silent gestures can still transform you

The Corporate Trap — And How Shloka 2.40 Can Save Us

Let’s switch gears. Imagine you’re in a Zoom meeting. Quarterly review. Your line manager lists deliverables, performance metrics, KPIs. You delivered 90% but missed one deadline because your child had a fever. It’s noted. But not forgiven.

This is the world we live in. Output over intention. Target over truth. And in this cubicle spirituality, the idea that effort itself is sacred? Feels like fantasy.

But it’s not. It’s the bedrock of karma yoga. Which says — the act matters, regardless of what it returns. And this isn’t spiritual escapism. It’s a quiet kind of rebellion. A way of reclaiming your humanity from corporate automation.

Related: Why Human Values Still Matter in an AI-Driven World

The Irony: How We’ve Inherited Gita, But Not Its Guts

Isn’t it strange? We quote the Gita. We frame its verses in homes. Yet we scold children for scoring 80 instead of 90. We tell them to be practical, not passionate. To chase stability, not sincerity.

Somewhere, we forgot the original spirit of Krishna’s teaching. It wasn’t compliance. It was courage. He didn’t say: “Act for rewards.” He said: “Act. That’s enough.”

Which makes me wonder… what if we reframed success in our homes? What if we praised the try, not just the triumph? Would our children feel freer? Would we write more, love more, dare more?

I once asked him why. He smiled and said, “हर दिन पूजा है बेटा, काम से भागना नहीं है।” That stuck with me. Like a whisper from a world that values the act — not just the award.

It wasn’t until years later, reading the Bhagavad Gita, that his words made deeper sense. Especially in Chapter 2, Shloka 40:

“In this endeavor, no effort is ever wasted, nor is there any failure. Even a little progress on this path protects one from great danger.”

The Kindness That Was Never Posted

A friend of mine once started a blog — a niche corner of the internet about restoring old Hindi film songs. She poured her soul into it for months. Rare lyrics, forgotten singers, interviews with collectors. But hardly anyone read it. No SEO tricks. No viral moments.

She called me and said, “Maybe I should delete it. Nobody cares.”

I told her, “But I care. That one piece you wrote on Manna Dey made me call my mom. That’s something.”

That’s invisible karma. The kind that doesn’t trend. The kind that doesn’t earn. But it plants seeds — in people, in memory, in soul.

Related: Practicing Gratitude Without Expectation

Modern Society: Metrics Over Meaning

Let’s face it — modern life is built on dashboards. Impressions, conversions, reach, rankings. Whether it’s politics or blogging, everything is about visibility. We don’t ask, “Was it right?” We ask, “Did it go viral?”

But karma doesn’t operate on Google Analytics. You won’t see it indexed. It’s subtle. Like brushing your teeth — it prevents decay but never gets applause.

Why Blogging Without Metrics Can Still Be Meaningful

Real Acts Are Often Unseen — And That’s Okay

There’s a story I once heard in a satsang — a temple cleaner who swept the floors for decades. One day, a visiting saint saw him and said, “Your seva is more powerful than a thousand lectures.” The man wept. Not because he wanted praise — but because someone saw.

The Gita says — don’t worry if no one sees. Your effort is its own reward. Your intention is the offering. And your consistency… that’s devotion.

Whether you’re a mother folding laundry at midnight, a teacher correcting papers no one appreciates, or a blogger writing truths no one shares — you’re walking the path.

Explore More: Why the Gita Values Action Over Applause

But one evening, on a crowded local train, I was reading a tattered copy of the Bhagavad Gita. And there it was — Shloka 2.40. Just one line, but it knocked the breath out of me:

“In this path, there is no loss or diminution. Even a little practice protects one from great fear.”

I closed the book and stared out the window. Suddenly, the failures didn’t feel so final. Maybe they weren’t even failures. Just — you know — chapters.

The Poison of Perfectionism

Modern society trains us to chase perfection. The clean resume. The viral post. The seven-figure salary. Anything less? Incomplete. Inadequate. Invisible.

And this mindset bleeds into our spiritual life too. We think: “If I can’t meditate for an hour, why even try?” or “If I miss a single fast, my devotion is ruined.” It’s exhausting.

But the Gita gently whispers: your tiny effort matters. Your one moment of clarity counts. You’re not being scored. You’re being seen.

Politics and Social Change: Is Anything Ever “Complete”?

Think of India’s independence. Was it a clean break? A perfect revolution? No. It was messy. Fragmented. Compromised. Yet… transformative. Nobody would say those who participated “failed.” Because their karma — their sincere action — planted seeds.

That’s exactly what Shloka 2.40 is saying. Even if your cause seems unfinished, your courage isn’t wasted. The blog post you wrote that only five people read? The protest where you stood alone? They echo. They matter.

Related: Spiritual Politics — Karma Beyond Votes

Blogging: When Numbers Lie

I know bloggers who gave up after ten posts. “Nobody’s reading,” they said. I’ve been there. But what the Gita teaches us — and what I’ve painfully learned — is that sincerity has its own algorithm.

The karma of effort is never deleted. Your work might not trend, but it might transform someone. Years later. Quietly.

Read More: Blogging Without Validation — Why It’s Enough

My Half-Finished Book — and Why I’m Okay With It

Five years ago, I started a book. Wrote 40,000 words. Then I stopped. Life got in the way. I judged myself for it — harshly.

But when I reread it recently, I cried. Not because it was perfect — it wasn’t. But because it was honest. That’s all the Gita asks.

So now, instead of mourning what’s undone, I celebrate what was done. What was attempted. That’s freedom.

And one day I asked him, “Why do you do this?” He shrugged and said, “Dadi said jo kaam binaa laabh ki icchha ke kiya jaaye, usmein Bhagwaan milte hain.”
That stayed with me.

The Bhagavad Gita says something very similar in Chapter 2, Shloka 40 — no effort on the path of dharma goes waste. Even a tiny act, like sweeping a stair, echoes. It means something. It carries weight.

In Society, The Invisible Holds Us Together

We often celebrate the visible. Headlines. Hashtags. Awards. But look closer — at what really holds a community up — and you’ll see invisible karmas at work.

The rickshaw puller who returns your dropped wallet. The midwife in a village delivering babies for free. The blogger who writes in anonymity to keep lost philosophies alive.

The Gita calls this the path of karma yoga — action without the attachment to applause. It’s a tough path, but my god, it’s sacred.

A Story from the Banks of Narmada

In 2018, I met a man on the ghats of the Narmada river who had been planting trees alone for ten years. No organization. No media. Just him, a bicycle, and a bag of saplings.

“Kya milta hai aapko isse?” I asked. He smiled. “Main nahi jaanta… Shayad kuch nahi. Shayad sab kuch.”

That, right there, is karma yoga. He wasn’t chasing a metric. He was flowing with dharma. Like the Narmada herself.

Read Also: Karma, Ecology, and Silent Service in India

In Blogging, Consistency Is Devotion

Let me get real here. I’ve written over 200 blog posts. Not all of them got traffic. Some barely cracked 20 views. But every time I hit publish, I felt a little cleaner. A little lighter. A little more — aligned.

That’s the secret the Gita knows. When we act without obsessing over outcome, we become vessels. Empty, yes — but ready to be filled by grace.

More: Blogging as Daily Sadhana — A Reflection

Your Karma Counts, Even If Nobody Notices

So many people tell me, “I’m not doing anything big with my life.” But that’s the tragedy of our measurement system — it’s external. The Gita flips that script.

Every silent kindness, every honest word, every temptation resisted — they build your inner world. Like bricks no one else sees. But you feel it, don’t you?

The spiritual path, Krishna reminds Arjuna, isn’t a game of likes. It’s a daily recommitment. A quiet vow. An act performed not for profit, but for peace.

Suggested: The Inner Karma That Brings Outer Peace

But Bhagavad Gita Chapter 2, Shloka 40 whispers something very different: “In this path, no effort is ever wasted, and no obstacle exists. Even a little progress saves one from great fear.” Just read that again.

Isn’t it liberating? The Gita redefines risk. In the material world, failure ends in loss. In the spiritual world, even trying brings light.

When Society Measures, But Soul Moves

I had a friend who left his MNC job to run a low-budget school in a tribal village. His family was horrified. His LinkedIn went silent. But the stories he shared — of barefoot kids reciting Sanskrit shlokas and planting saplings with their tiny fingers — man, they shook me.

He once told me, “They think I gave up everything. But I finally stopped being afraid.” That’s what the Gita means by transcending fear through small, dharmic action. Society often equates success with visibility. But the Gita flips that equation.

Read More: Unsung Dharma Warriors of India

Even a Small Step Counts in Dharma

I remember publishing my first blog post. Zero comments. Two views — both mine. I felt ridiculous. But then a stranger emailed: “This helped me during my mother’s chemo.” That one message outweighed 10,000 impressions.

You see, the Gita’s assurance isn’t motivational fluff. It’s a call to break free from external validation. You may not go viral. You may not trend. But your one sincere act — a blog post, a handmade meal, a street protest — matters. Eternally.

Suggested Reading: Micro-Activism & Modern Dharma

Politics, Blogging, and the Fear of Irrelevance

We live in noisy times. Politics rewards loudness. Blogging rewards trends. Algorithms reward outrage. And in all this, quietly walking a dharmic path can feel… invisible.

But that’s the paradox Krishna presents — what feels invisible in the world becomes indelible in the soul. Dharma doesn’t need claps. It needs courage. And silence. And trust.

I once deleted a trending political post because it didn’t align with my core. Lost traffic. Gained clarity. It’s choices like these that refine karma.

Related: Blogging with Bhagavad Gita as Your Compass

The Freedom of Risking Spiritually

Let me ask you this: What if you stopped fearing irrelevance? What if every poem you wrote, every donation you made, every wrong you forgave — left a cosmic footprint?

Because that’s what Shloka 40 is really about. No step toward dharma is ever wasted. In a world that treats failure as shameful, Krishna treats effort as sacred.

So yes, start that blog. Take that sabbatical. Forgive that grudge. Volunteer quietly. Vote mindfully. Be spiritual without spectacle. The ripple counts.

But Bhagavad Gita Chapter 2, Shloka 40 lands like cool rain on a burning forehead. It gently declares — “In this endeavor, no effort is wasted. No obstacle exists. Even a small offering on this path protects you from great fear.”

And suddenly, you breathe again.

Small Devotions, Big Echoes

I met a woman in Vrindavan who spends her mornings sweeping temple courtyards. She never asked for money. No selfies. No reels. Just soft bhajans under her breath, and a smile for every soul who walked by.

When I asked her why, she said, “Kisi ke liye mandir saaf hota hai. Bas wahi kaafi hai.” That’s it. Her karma — small. Her bhakti — immense. Her fear of failure? None.

Read more: Unsung Women of Dharma

Modern Anxiety vs. Eternal Confidence

We worry about reach. Metrics. Likes. Promotions. Retirement funds. And yet, the Gita says — if your intent is clean, your act will echo. Maybe not here. Maybe not now. But it will.

You know, I once wrote a blog post on grieving that got almost no traffic. Weeks later, someone who’d just lost his mother wrote to me — “This saved me from breaking.” That one sentence changed how I viewed ‘results.’

Suggested: Writing Through Grief as Karma

Bhakti Is Not Just Ritual — It’s Attitude

Somewhere along the way, we boxed bhakti into a corner — chants, lamps, and tilaks. But Krishna redefines it. In this shloka, he folds bhakti into karma. Says, “Act. Don’t fear. Even one honest step in dharma dissolves fear.”

Imagine that freedom — where one blog post, one honest protest, one act of kindness — no matter how quiet — becomes a shield against anxiety.

Explore: Bhakti vs Buzz in the Digital Age

Karma + Bhakti: The Ultimate SEO?

Stay with me here. What if Google’s algorithm isn’t the one we should be optimizing for? What if “inner alignment” — where bhakti (devotion) and karma (action) merge — is the ultimate ranking signal in the cosmic sense?

Maybe that’s what this shloka is hinting at. Not every act needs an audience. Just an authentic intent. Bhakti is not about noise. Karma is not about rewards. Both are about clarity. Sincerity. Freedom.

New: The Spiritual SEO of Karma Yoga

In a country torn between rage-tweets and roaring rallies, what’s left of dharma in our politics? What does the Bhagavad Gita — specifically Chapter 2, Shloka 40 — whisper to a confused voter?

The answer, surprisingly, is… everything.

No Act Is Wasted — Not Even the Smallest Vote

Krishna tells Arjuna, “In this dharmic action, no effort is ever wasted, nor is there danger of failure.” We’ve heard this shloka in yoga classes, motivational speeches, even on WhatsApp forwards. But what if it’s also the deepest commentary on **public participation**?

The problem today isn’t apathy — it’s cynicism. People care, but they’ve stopped believing. In justice. In impact. In the idea that their actions — vote, voice, volunteerism — mean anything.

And yet, Krishna disagrees.

He says: If your action is done with clarity of heart, without craving for outcome, it will shift something — inside or out. No press conference required.

Read more: Dharma in Indian Democracy

Political Karma and Personal Responsibility

Sometimes I wonder: what if our manifestos were inspired by the Gita? No, really. Imagine if leaders saw public service not as power, but as karma — done sincerely, without attachment to praise or polls.

I once met a grassroots activist in Bundelkhand. He worked without banners. Just reconnected water lines to dry villages. His NGO’s slogan? “Kaam dikhe, naam nahi.” Pure karma yoga.

Suggested: Karma Without Credit in Civic Work

Why the Gita Might Be the Best Political Textbook

The Gita doesn’t pick sides. Not Left. Not Right. It picks conscious action. The courage to do what must be done, even when it’s unpopular or unseen. Like whistleblowing. Like refusing to communalize tragedy. Like listening more than speaking.

In that sense, the Gita isn’t a weapon. It’s a compass. And Chapter 2, Shloka 40? It’s the needle pointing us away from paralysis and toward integrity.

Final Word: Let Your Dharma Vote Every Day

We don’t just vote in elections. We vote every day — with our attention, our spending, our silence, our shares, our bystanderism. This shloka reminds us: even one mindful act counts. Especially when done without ego or fear.

So no, you don’t need to join a movement. Just don’t mock one. No need to change the world. Just don’t numb yourself to it.

Explore Further: Karma of Citizenship

And in that mental spiral, one night, I remembered something from the Bhagavad Gita’s 2nd chapter. Krishna says: “In this path, no effort is ever wasted. Nor is there fear of failure.”

I stared at my draft again. And something shifted. Maybe this wasn’t just blogging. Maybe this was sadhana.

When You Write Without Fear of Reach

Most bloggers today live under the tyranny of the algorithm. It’s not our fault. We’ve been taught that a post is valuable only if it ranks. That a story is successful only if it’s shared 10,000 times. And slowly, we stop writing for truth. We write for traffic.

But Krishna’s message in Shloka 2.40 is almost rebellious in this era. He says — not in so many words, but unmistakably — that sincerity is success.

Your blog might get two likes. Or none. But if you wrote it from a place of dharma, of honest inner calling, it will still serve. Maybe it changed you. Maybe it changed the one person who quietly read it and never commented.

Read More: Blogging with Dharma in 2025

Why Every Post Is a Karmic Offering

A friend of mine in Ujjain writes a blog that barely gets 100 views a month. But every Sunday, without fail, she posts a poem about her grandmother’s teachings. She once told me, “Yeh meri aradhana hai.” Her worship.

That’s when it hit me: we’re not content creators. We’re karma yogis with keyboards. Each post — long or short, ranked or buried — is our humble offering.

Explore: The Ritual of Hitting Publish

Letting Go of Outcome — But Not Excellence

Here’s the tricky part. Karma yoga doesn’t mean laziness. It’s not about “chalta hai.” It’s about pouring your best into the process while releasing your addiction to the result.

That means editing ruthlessly, choosing your words like beads in a mala, and still knowing: it may not trend. And still writing. Still serving. Because you’re not chasing claps; you’re chasing clarity.

Final Thoughts: Write Like a Seeker, Not an Influencer

The Gita doesn’t condemn ambition. It condemns attachment to it. So go ahead — write your newsletter, polish your SEO, use your tools. But before hitting “publish,” ask:

“Am I writing this from craving or from calling?”

If it’s calling, don’t look back. Your words are already doing their work — unseen, perhaps, but not unloved.

Suggested Reading: The Spiritual Side of Digital Expression

I remember sitting one monsoon evening in Pune, rain smearing the glass, holding a yellowed copy of the Bhagavad Gita. I flipped it open randomly — and there it was. Chapter 2, Shloka 40:

“In this endeavor, no effort is ever wasted, nor is there any loss. Even a little progress on this path can protect one from great fear.”

I underlined that line so hard the pen almost tore through. Because finally, someone — something — was telling me what I needed to hear: your effort wasn’t in vain.

The Work You Think Went Nowhere

Society teaches us to measure everything. Pageviews. ROI. Promotion cycles. Virality. If it didn’t trend, did it even happen?

But here’s Krishna, whispering through centuries: your sincere work never vanishes. Maybe that post didn’t get a share. But maybe it made you braver. Maybe someone bookmarked it silently. Maybe you’ll revisit it in two years and find wisdom you missed.

See Also: Karma and Selfless Effort in the Gita

Invisible Karma, Visible Courage

My mother once spent three months knitting a shawl for a neighbor going through chemo. The woman passed away before she could gift it. She wept. “It was all for nothing,” she said.

But you know what? The process of making that shawl healed something in her. That kindness softened her anger at the world. And to this day, I think that act — never delivered — shaped how I understood service.

The Gita doesn’t promise outcome. It promises depth. That even a small act done with presence ripples far beyond our comprehension.

Further Reading: Dharma in Modern Life

Why This Shloka Still Matters in 2025

In a world addicted to speed, reward, and hacks — this one verse is a lifeline for anyone quietly wondering if their path has been pointless. The blogger who’s barely surviving Adsense thresholds. The activist whose petitions don’t get signatures. The student who fails twice and still studies again.

This shloka is for you. And me. And all of us who keep trying without applause.

Because the Gita doesn’t measure the finish. It values the faith to start again.

Call to Inner Action

So… what if we wrote that next blog post not for likes, but for healing? What if you started that course, not because it will make you money next month, but because it lights a quiet fire inside you?

Krishna is saying — do it anyway. Even the smallest flicker of this path protects you from great inner collapse. Not all effort pays in currency. Some pays in grace.

Must Read: Effort Over Outcome – A Gita Perspective

Months later, I stumbled upon Shloka 40 from Chapter 2 of the Bhagavad Gita. It felt like Krishna was sitting beside me on my living room floor, saying —

“In this path, no effort is ever wasted, nor is there any loss. Even a little progress can shield you from great fear.”

And just like that, something shifted. Maybe the outcome wasn’t the goal. Maybe integrity was.

Why the Gita Still Belongs in a Parliament-Flooded World

We live in a country where headlines scream and hope sometimes feels like it’s rationed. Polarization is high, discourse is thin, and dissent is either weaponized or ignored. In such times, this one verse from the Gita stands like a lamp in the wind.

It doesn’t promise victory. It promises value — to your effort, your voice, your ethical stance. Even if your MP ignores your email. Even if your vote feels swallowed. Even if you’re mocked for caring.

Further Reading: Dharma and Political Disillusionment

The Work You Do in the Shadows

I know a school teacher in Uttar Pradesh who plants five trees each year with her students. She doesn’t post about it. She doesn’t get awards. But over 15 years, she’s planted 75 trees. One survived in a drought village and now gives shade to an old tea seller.

That’s not social media fodder. That’s karma yoga. Silent, local, sincere.

The Gita doesn’t measure worth by the size of the audience — it honors the purity of intention. That’s something no political machinery can erase.

Related: Karma Yoga as Modern Civic Duty

How This Applies to You, the Wounded Idealist

Maybe you’re a student tired of filing RTIs that go unanswered. Or a woman whose molestation complaint vanished into procedural red tape. Or a citizen trying to clean a park while the local councillor plays golf.

To be honest? You have every right to feel exhausted. But this shloka isn’t a feel-good pill. It’s a reminder: don’t let the system change your essence. Your action matters. Maybe not in newspapers. But in the unseen moral architecture of your spirit.

A Quiet Rebellion: Living the Gita Without Noise

So here’s what I’ve learned — from activists, from retired professors, from tea sellers who refuse to cheat on price:

• Cook your food honestly.
• Teach one child to read — for free.
• Refuse to give or take bribes, even once.
• Write, even if no one reads — but write with fire.

These aren’t hashtags. But they’re revolutions. The kind Gita respects.

Also Read: Silent Resistance and Inner Dharma

And yet… I return. Not out of stubbornness, but because of something Krishna once told Arjuna — something I didn’t really “hear” until I was knee-deep in WordPress drafts and self-doubt:

“In this endeavour, no effort is wasted. Nor is there failure. Even a little progress protects you from great fear.” — Bhagavad Gita, Chapter 2, Shloka 40

Read full verse + commentary

That line? It changed everything. Because suddenly, the work wasn’t about results. It was about integrity. Alignment. Karma yoga in a digital disguise.

Writing Without Expectation: What Gita Taught Me

Look, I grew up in an India where a blog was a diary, not a career. Today, it’s algorithms and CTR and SEO battles. It’s easy to feel like you’re shouting into the void. But the Gita doesn’t say “write to be heard.” It says — act without attachment to outcome.

So I shifted my practice. I stopped tracking metrics obsessively. I started asking: “Is this post truthful?” “Is it rooted in service, not performance?” Because if even one person reads something honest and feels less alone — that’s not failure. That’s spiritual currency.

Related: Blogging With Purpose — A Gita Perspective

Even Small Efforts Count (Even If You Don’t Go Viral)

There’s a small nonprofit blog I admire — no sponsors, no flash. They just upload one thoughtful post per week. No clickbait. Just clarity. Their readership? Maybe 500 people. But last month, one post helped a student secure mental health support in Ranchi.

That, to me, is karma in motion. Gita doesn’t dismiss the small. It sanctifies it.

You don’t need a million views. You need truth. You need action aligned with soul. That’s where real protection lies — not in firewalls, but in your intent.

Blogging in 2025: Between AI, Ads, and Atma

The web’s changing. AI-generated content floods timelines. Monetization dangles like a carrot. And amidst all this, human voices — flawed, sincere, grounded — struggle to survive.

But maybe that’s our duty now. To write what’s not trending. To say what the bots can’t. To hold space for silence, struggle, self-inquiry. If that means fewer readers but deeper impact? So be it.

Further Reading: Dharma of Human Content in an AI Era

Final Note: The Path Is the Practice

Bhagavad Gita 2.40 isn’t just spiritual theory. It’s a lifeline for creators. It reminds us that no sincere act is lost. That your midnight blog draft, your unpaid poem, your newsletter sent to 17 subscribers — all of it counts.

Because when you work from soul, even silence responds.

And maybe that’s the only metric that ever mattered.