The chapter closes with the long, tender portrait of the devotee “dear to Me” — a checklist not for testing others but for growing oneself, and a description of what the goal looks like when it walks about in a human body. He is: without hatred toward any being, friendly and compassionate, free of “mine” and of egoism, even in pain and pleasure, forgiving; ever content, self-controlled, of firm resolve, his mind and intellect given to Me (12.13–14). He is one “by whom the world is not agitated, and who is not agitated by the world”, free of elation, impatience, fear and anxiety (12.15). He is unconcerned, pure, capable, indifferent, untroubled, renouncing every undertaking (for its fruit); who neither rejoices nor hates, neither grieves nor craves, renouncing good and evil alike (12.16–17); the same to friend and foe, in honour and dishonour, in cold and heat, in pleasure and pain, free from attachment; to whom blame and praise are equal, content with whatever comes, homeless-hearted, of steady mind (12.18–19). Read the list slowly: it is at once the description of a jīvanmukta, the marks by which one may recognise a true Guru or Avadhūta, and the very qualities a seeker is asked to cultivate. Every trait is a form of samatva — the one equanimity, wearing many faces (recall 2.48, 5.18, 6.32). And K ends: “those who follow this nectar-law of righteousness (dharmyāmṛtam), full of faith, holding Me supreme — those devotees are exceedingly dear to Me” (12.20). The whole of Yoga, in the end, is to become someone God could love in this way.