In 7.14, Kṛṣṇa gave the remedy for samsāra: mām eva ye prapadyante — those who take refuge in Bhagavān cross His guṇa-based māyā. Verse 7.15 naturally raises the next question: If taking refuge in Bhagavān is the way across māyā, why does everyone not do it?

Kṛṣṇa answers by describing what māyā does to the human mind.

He says, na māṃ prapadyante — some people do not take refuge in Me. They do not turn seriously toward Bhagavān, bhakti, guru, śāstra, or the higher goal of mokṣa. The problem is not simply that somebody has never performed a ritual or visited a temple. The deeper issue is that the mind has little interest in discovering a source of security beyond the changing world.

Kṛṣṇa first uses the word duṣkṛtinaḥ. Here the emphasis is on lack of sufficient puṇya. Human birth itself requires puṇya, but something more is required for a human being to become interested in dharma, mokṣa, Bhagavān, guru, and śāstra. A person may have intelligence, education, wealth, position, and worldly capability and yet have no interest at all in the fundamental spiritual questions.

The teaching therefore reminds us that manuṣyatvam [human birth], mumukṣutvam [desire for freedom], and access to a mahāpuruṣa [a great teacher] are themselves precious opportunities. Human life is capable of pursuing all four puruṣārthas — dharma, artha, kāma, and mokṣa — but māyā can keep the mind confined almost entirely to artha and kāma: earning and enjoying.

This is the significance of māyayāpahṛtajñānāḥ — “those whose discrimination has been carried away by māyā.” Māyā does not necessarily make a person intellectually unintelligent. A person may be highly educated and clever. What is lost is the discrimination required to recognize the limitations of the changing world.

We constantly witness impermanence. People acquire money and lose it. They gain status and later lose it. Bodies are healthy and later become ill. Relationships change. People whom we thought would always be beside us may leave. Positions, possessions, and circumstances continuously change.

Yet the deluded mind observes all of this and quietly concludes, “Yes, these things happen — but somehow my arrangements will be permanent.”

This is why Kṛṣṇa calls such a person mūḍhaḥ [deluded]. The fundamental delusion is to treat the impermanent as though it were permanent. In 7.13, this same problem appeared as expecting permanent security and pūrṇatvam from aparā prakṛti. Here Kṛṣṇa shows why that mistake continues even when experience repeatedly demonstrates the opposite.

Bhagavān has not left the human being without help. Guru and śāstra are available precisely because the mind can become confused. They function like the instruction manual supplied with a complicated instrument: they tell us what the instrument can do, what it cannot do, how it should be used, and what will damage it.

But māyā produces another problem — arrogance. The person thinks, “Why do I need anyone to teach me? Why should I study śāstra? I already know how to live.”

So the guidance is available, but the mind does not approach it.

Kṛṣṇa then uses the striking expression narādhamāḥ. This should be understood in the specific context of the teaching. Human birth has the extraordinary capacity to attain the highest puruṣārtha, mokṣa. If that rare human life is used exclusively for ordinary acquisition and enjoyment, its unique possibility is wasted.

The comparison is powerful: it is like using sandalwood as firewood.

Sandalwood can serve as fuel. It will burn. But to use something so precious merely as ordinary firewood is to miss its special value. Similarly, human life can certainly be used for earning, eating, entertainment, status, possessions, and sensory enjoyment. Those activities have their appropriate place. But if an entire human life never rises beyond them, its highest possibility has been missed.

Then Kṛṣṇa says, āsuraṃ bhāvam āśritāḥ — such people may gradually take refuge in an āsuric disposition.

The development is important. If life becomes overwhelmingly artha-kāma-pradhāna — centered on acquisition and enjoyment — desire tends to keep increasing. What we already have does not permanently satisfy us. Another desire comes, then another.

At some point, our legitimate means may not be enough to satisfy the expanding wants. Then the mind begins to negotiate with dharma.

“Just this once.”

“Everyone does it.”

“No one will know.”

“It is only a small compromise.”

At first the conscience objects. But if the compromise is repeated, the discomfort becomes weaker. What once felt clearly wrong begins to feel normal.

This gradual blunting of discrimination is the danger identified as āsuric bhāva. It need not begin with dramatic cruelty. It can begin with repeated compromises made because artha or kāma has become more important than dharma. Over time, desire starts ruling discrimination instead of discrimination governing desire.

Therefore the expressions in this shloka form a connected picture. Māyā keeps the mind absorbed in changing artha and kāma. Discrimination regarding their impermanence becomes obscured. Guru and śāstra seem unnecessary. The unique opportunity of human life is spent only on ordinary goals. Increasing desires then tempt the person to compromise dharma, and repeated compromise can harden into an āsuric disposition.

7.15 is therefore not merely criticizing “non-devotees.” It is giving us a serious diagnosis of how a human mind can become unable even to recognize the need for the remedy taught in 7.14. The practical warning is clear: do not allow artha and kāma to consume the entire human life; preserve discrimination, respect dharma, seek the guidance of guru and śāstra, and use this rare human opportunity for its highest possibility — mokṣa.