Verse 7.24 taught that people who know only Bhagavān’s visible, changing aspect fail to recognize His paraṃ bhāvam, His higher nature as changeless consciousness. Verse 7.25 now answers the natural question: if that higher nature is ever present, why is it not obvious to everyone?

Kṛṣṇa says, nāhaṃ prakāśaḥ sarvasya — “I am not evident to everyone.” This does not mean Bhagavān is physically hiding somewhere or deliberately refusing to reveal Himself. The higher nature is already present. The problem is that the mind is looking in the wrong direction.

The reason is yogamāyāsamāvṛtaḥ — veiled by yogamāyā. Here yogamāyā means māyā constituted of the three guṇas: sattva, rajas, and tamas. This is aparā prakṛti, the entire material field that includes not only the external world but also our own body and mind.

This māyā has a covering power, āvaraṇa-śakti. It does not literally cover consciousness the way a cloth covers an object. Consciousness cannot be physically hidden because every experience—including ignorance—is known only in consciousness. The covering is at the level of recognition: the mind becomes so absorbed in the changing field that it fails to notice the changeless reality because of which the entire field is known.

Why is aparā prakṛti so powerful?

Because it is attractive.

Beautiful forms attract the eyes. Pleasing sounds attract the ears. Tastes, fragrances, touch, relationships, achievements, possessions, status, ideas, emotions, and memories occupy the mind. The body itself demands attention. The mind produces endless plans, hopes, anxieties, comparisons, and ambitions.

There is nothing inherently wrong with any of these. The problem is that the mind becomes completely extroverted, moving continuously from one changing object to another.

Then the extraordinary situation arises: the person seeks peace, security, and fulfilment entirely through aparā prakṛti even though aparā prakṛti is incapable of providing them absolutely.

Every object there is finite.

Every relationship there is subject to change.

Every bodily condition changes.

Every mental state changes.

Every possession can be acquired and lost.

Yet the mind keeps saying, “Perhaps the next arrangement will finally make me complete.”

This is the covering power of māyā.

The situation is like having a perennial source of water beneath one’s own property while running from place to place searching for water outside. The problem is not that the water is absent. The problem is that its presence has not been discovered.

In the same way, the source of the pūrṇatvam, peace, and security we seek is not ultimately outside. The parā prakṛti—consciousness—is closest of all because it is the very Self.

Yet the person remains too occupied with objects to inquire into the subject.

Kṛṣṇa therefore says, mūḍho'yaṃ lokaḥ — this world is deluded.

The word mūḍhaḥ here should not be reduced to a casual insult. It describes a profound confusion: disowning what one already is and searching for it endlessly outside.

A person says, “I need security,” and runs after insecure things.

“I want permanence,” and becomes dependent upon impermanent things.

“I want fullness,” and keeps adding finite things.

The strategy itself reveals the confusion.

Kṛṣṇa says such a person nābhijānāti mām — does not recognize Me.

Here “Me” means Bhagavān’s higher nature, parā prakṛti, caitanya-svarūpam. The person may even be religious. One may visit temples, perform pūjā, love a deity-form, and still remain primarily interested only in saguṇa Bhagavān as a means for rearranging aparā prakṛti.

The transition toward deeper spirituality requires discrimination. The mind must eventually ask: “What exactly am I seeking through all these changing objects? Can the changing ever give me what I fundamentally want?”

This is also why guru and śāstra become necessary. The higher nature is not another object that the senses can discover. A competent teacher, using the śāstra, directs the seeker toward what is already present but unrecognized. Śravaṇam, mananam, and nididhyāsanam become the process through which the covering ignorance is removed.

But the seeker must make time for that pursuit.

If the mind is completely consumed by earning, acquiring, protecting, enjoying, comparing, worrying, and planning the next acquisition, there is no space left for the most important inquiry.

Kṛṣṇa finally describes the higher nature as ajam avyayam.

Ajam means birthless. Consciousness does not begin when the body is born. Birth belongs to the body.

Avyayam means undecaying, imperishable. The body ages, the mind changes, and experiences disappear, but consciousness itself is not subject to those modifications.

Thus 7.25 deepens 7.24. The problem is not that Bhagavān’s higher nature is far away or truly unavailable. It is hidden in plain sight because attention is captured by the attractive field of aparā prakṛti.

The teaching of 7.25 is therefore a diagnosis of spiritual extroversion: yogamāyā keeps the mind fascinated by changing body, mind, and world, while the birthless and changeless consciousness remains unrecognized. Freedom begins when that outward search is questioned and guru-śāstra teaching directs the seeker toward the parā prakṛti that was never actually absent.