When the roles blur
Inspired by the Bhagavad Gita Chapter 2 – Sankhya Yoga
We live in a world where titles are louder than names. But who are we beyond our titles, when the introductions fade and meaning becomes the real measure?
The question “What do you do?” has quietly replaced the more human “Tell me about yourself.”
Arjuna’s collapse on the battlefield wasn’t just fear – it was identity unravelling.
He wasn’t sure if he was a warrior, a nephew, a student, or simply a man torn between love and duty.
The hardest battles aren’t between people. They’re between versions of ourselves.
The Modern Battlefield
Modern life runs on introductions.
“Hi, I’m Meera – Marketing Director at XYZ”. “Hey, I’m Raj – Product Head at ABC”
We wear titles like armor – polished, visible, safe.
Until they slip.
A promotion delayed. A role redefined. A job title that suddenly feels smaller.
And then, we start shrinking with it.
We confuse what we do with who we are.
Somewhere along the way, ambition stopped being about becoming a better version of ourselves and started being about how others identify us.
Krishna’s words echo across centuries:
“You grieve for those who need not be grieved for. The wise do not grieve for the living or the dead.” (Gita 2.11)
In our world, that grief isn’t just for people. It’s for identities we’ve outgrown, and sometimes, identities we’re stripped of.
The essence beneath the title
Krishna doesn’t start the Gita by talking about war or victory.
He begins with the self.
“As the body moves from childhood to youth to old age, so the soul passes on – the wise are not deluded.” (Gita 2.13)
Roles change. The self doesn’t.
The title, the applause, the inbox full of invites – they’re just clothes the soul wears for a while.
You’re not your designation, your pay grade, or even your reputation.
You’re the consciousness behind it all.
And yet, this isn’t a call to abandon ambition. It’s a reminder to expand it.
To be ambitious not for status, but for impact.
To let your work be larger than your role – guided by purpose, not position.
When vision outgrows the title, you begin to lead from who you are, not what you hold.
When the label fades
That lesson returned years later – not at work, but at home.
We’re told success means momentum – a bigger team, a wider remit, a louder room.
But what happens when it all quiets down?
When the title looks the same, yet the ground beneath it shifts – new structures, new visibility, new rules?
For many, it feels like loss.
But maybe it’s just space – the kind that reminds you that you existed before the label did.
A few years ago, after a reorganization, I found myself reporting into a matrix structure with reporting into a virtual manager – someone who had little visibility into my day-to-day work.
For an introvert like me, that felt like being suddenly disconnected from sponsorship and recognition.
The silence was heavy. The self-doubt louder.
I’d built my identity around being “known” for my work, and now I wasn’t sure who was even noticing.
It took time, but the fog began to lift.
I realised I still had the same canvas – only now, I could paint it my way.
Without constant visibility came freedom. Without noise came focus.
I began building influence differently – through ownership, trust, and quiet consistency.
What began as isolation turned into autonomy.
And in that autonomy, I found something far stronger than recognition – clarity.
That experience taught me that titles can stay unchanged, yet your relationship with them can completely transform.
The world may not always see you, but that doesn’t mean you’ve stopped mattering.
Because real leadership isn’t about being visible – it’s about being steady.
Arjuna had to learn that his identity as a warrior wasn’t what defined him – it was simply the role through which his essence expressed itself.
The same applies to us.
You can lead without a title. You can create without an audience. You can matter without being measured.
When you feel lost in your title
Here’s where the Gita is practical, and surprisingly modern.
1. Step back from the label
When you start introducing yourself with your job before your name, it’s a cue to pause.
Try saying: “Right now, I lead this project” instead of “I am this project.”
The small shift in language creates a big shift in mindset – reminding you that roles are what you do, not who you are.
2. Redefine ambition
Ambition is healthy until it starts measuring your worth.
When goals become identities, every delay feels personal.
Krishna’s reminder: You’re entitled to the work, not the worth it earns you.
So, focus on becoming excellent – not exceptional in comparison.
3. Reconnect with essence
Outside of your title, who are you?
A parent who listens? A friend who encourages? A thinker who reflects?
Revisit what fills you beyond what pays you.
Your essence is often hiding in the quiet moments you postpone.
4. Find a mirror, not a megaphone
In an age of applause, find someone who reflects truth, not validation.
Arjuna had Krishna – not to flatter him, but to remind him who he already was.
Find that voice for yourself – a mentor, friend, or habit that helps you see beyond the noise.Calm isn’t passive. It’s not the silence of inaction.
It’s the space between emotion and expression, where understanding begins
The bigger lesson
The Gita doesn’t ask us to renounce our roles. It asks us to see through them.
To show up fully in whatever the current chapter demands but never forget who’s turning the pages.
Titles give direction. Essence gives meaning.
One day the title will change. The applause will slow. But who you are beneath it all, that remains untouched.
So, the next time a title shifts, don’t panic. You haven’t lost identity, you’ve been asked to relate to it differently.
My Arjuna moment
We all have one – when the titles we wear start wearing us down.
Mine came when I realised, I had begun introducing myself by my job, not my journey.
What’s yours?
The moment you looked beyond a title and rediscovered who you were, before the world gave you a name for it.
Written by Vibhor Jain © 2025 | Originally published at mindspringlife.com