Just as the royal swan does not abandon the lake, or as what is curved does not straighten, thus the guṇas never abandon the jīvanmukta.

The two analogies operate in opposite directions. The royal swan (rājahaṃsa) that never leaves the lake—the tīrtha—illustrates natural permanence: the swan belongs to the water; it cannot live apart from it. The guṇas belong to the jīvanmukta not as guests but as his own manifested nature. The curve that does not straighten (bhaṅgura) illustrates impossibility: the guṇas cannot abandon the jīvanmukta because they are not separate from him.

The reading is not quietist: the guṇas continue to operate—sattva, rajas, and tamas remain present—but they no longer produce attachment or aversion. The jīvanmukta is not someone without guṇas; he is someone for whom the guṇas are like colors in a crystal: present but not adhesive, visible but not defining.

The Bhagavad Gītā (XIV.23–25) describes the guṇātīta—the one who has transcended the guṇas—as one who “does not hate their appearance nor desire their disappearance,” and who “remains as a witness.” The Laghu Yoga Vāsiṣṭha goes a step further: it does not say that the jīvanmukta “transcends” the guṇas in the sense of elevation or separation, but rather that the guṇas cannot leave him because they were never separate. Transcendence here is not an exit, but the recognition that there is no exit.