The Inheritance of Karma - Why Justice is Not Always Seen, but Nothing is Ever Lost

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History unsettles us with its paradoxes. Adolf Hitler shot himself in a bunker before he could face trial, while Joseph Stalin died in power, surrounded by sycophants. Bernard Madoff lived for decades in wealth and luxury before his fraud collapsed. Rupert Murdoch and Donald Trump may well die old and comfortable despite the chaos they sowed.

 

Meanwhile, Vincent van Gogh died penniless and alone, having sold only a single painting. Socrates was executed by his own city. Countless teachers, reformers, and artists have lived and died in obscurity, only for their work to blossom centuries later.

 

If karma means everyone “gets what they deserve,” the evidence seems damning. Wrongdoers flourish, the virtuous suffer. Where is the justice?

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The problem lies not with karma, but with how we imagine it. We like to think of it as a moral accountant: rewarding good, punishing evil, all neatly settled within one lifetime. But karma, in Vedanta, is not sentimental. It is not a cosmic police force. It is the law of cause and effect woven into the order of Ishvara.

 

Actions produce results. Those results will come to fruition, but not always where — or when — we expect. The accounts are larger than one person, larger than one lifetime.

 

Every action ripples outward. It may land on the doer, or on their heirs, or on the society they leave behind. Stalin is gone, but Russia still bears the scars of his purges and paranoia. Colonial powers are gone, yet their former colonies still grapple with the borders, divisions, and inequalities left behind.

 

The same holds for dharma. Rosa Parks could not know that her quiet refusal to give up a seat would ignite a movement reshaping American law. Gandhi did not live to see how satyagraha would influence Martin Luther King Jr. and Nelson Mandela. The individual passes, but the current continues.

 

Adharma is like poison introduced into the bloodstream of a people. Hitler’s Reich collapsed, but the trauma of the Holocaust reshaped Jewish identity and scarred Europe for generations. American slavery ended 160 years ago, yet its legacy persists in systemic inequities, mistrust, and cultural wounds.

 

When adharma is powerful, it rarely dies with the doer. The debt is carried forward, often by those least responsible. Children inherit mistrust. Citizens inherit weakened institutions. Nations inherit guilt and division.

 

Yet dharma, too, leaves its inheritance. Van Gogh never saw success, yet his canvases changed how humanity sees color and light. Socrates drank the hemlock, but his questioning spirit seeded Western philosophy. A farmer plants a tree he will never sit under, and strangers rest in its shade.

 

No act of truth or goodness is wasted. The doer may vanish without recognition, but the world is quietly nourished. Dharma blesses even those who never knew the source.

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Karma is impartial. It is not designed to give us the satisfaction of seeing wrongdoers punished and heroes rewarded on stage before the curtain falls. Its purpose is not to flatter our craving for tidy endings, but to preserve the order of cause and effect.

 

This is sobering, because it means tyrants may die smug and saints may die poor. Yet it is liberating, too, because the law is utterly reliable. Every act matters. Nothing is erased. The field remembers.

 

From the standpoint of Vedanta, the web of karma is endless, too vast for the human mind to trace. To demand perfect justice in appearances is to misunderstand the law. The only true release from karma is moksha — the recognition that the Self, atman, is never touched by action at all.

 

Until that knowledge dawns, svadharma provides the compass. To act in alignment with the Whole is to keep the mind clear and steady. To act against it is to agitate the mind, making peace and freedom impossible. Dharma cannot always guarantee outer success, but it does prepare the inner ground for liberation.

 

Closing Image — The Sapling and the Scar

 

Adharma leaves scars: like a felled tree tearing roots from the earth, the wound remains long after the hand that struck it is gone.

 

Dharma plants saplings: humble acts of truth and generosity that grow into shade and shelter for those yet unborn.

 

This is the inheritance of karma. Both scars and shade are passed down, shaping the world we inhabit. And through it all, the Self remains free — untouched, awaiting recognition.

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This essay is part of series​ that explores the ancient concept of dharma as both diagnosis and prescription for our modern malaise. Drawing from Vedanta and mythology, each piece offers a lens through which to understand our turbulent world—not as a random mess, but as a lawful unfolding shaped by deep patterns.

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