Inner Ravan Is Harder to Kill

Every autumn in India the air fills with drumbeats, laughter, the smell of fried snacks, and the crackle of bonfires. Dussehra — one of the most celebrated Hindu festivals — arrives roughly fifteen days before Diwali and marks the day Lord Ram defeated the demon king Ravan. Across towns and cities, communities build tall effigies called Ravan ka putla, stage short plays of the Ramayana, and finally set fire to the towering figures in public grounds. Children practice archery with toy bows and arrows; families gather at the fair, and for one evening the visible darkness of winter is pushed back by light and joy. 

The Visible Ritual

The effigy of Ravan is a striking, unmistakable sight: paper and straw stitched into a monstrous frame, painted and dressed, with ten heads and wide, blazing eyes. People gather to watch the performance of Ram shooting the arrow, and then, with a collective cheer, the effigy is set alight. The flames consume the paper and straw quickly, and for a moment the whole crowd feels a simple, shared victory.

The ritual is loud, visible, and concrete. Everyone understands it: Ravan the tyrant is defeated. Children run around with charcoal-stained faces and toy bows; elders talk about the old stories; vendors sell sweets and toys. In many Asian countries, Dussehra or versions of it are celebrated in different forms — but the theme is universal: the triumph of good over evil.

But What About the Inner Ravan?

Watching a burning effigy offers a satisfying symbol of cleansing. Yet an older woman I once met at a Dussehra fair leaned close and said, “We burn Ravan outside, but what about the Ravan inside us?” Her words stayed with me. The visible effigy is easy to identify, and easy to destroy. The inner Ravan — the habits, fears, selfishness, grudges, and anger that live inside our hearts — is invisible. It does not have a painted face or a crowd to point at it. To many of us, that inner enemy is far harder to identify, let alone defeat.

A Story from the Fair

Let me tell you a short story. Arun was nine when he first saw the Ravan putla. He loved the loud drums and the fireworks, and he admired the brave role of Ram. But later, at home, he watched his father shout at his mother over a small money mistake. He saw the way pride made his father refuse help. He noticed how he himself would snap at his younger sister when she spilled milk. Those little hurts and angry reactions felt like they came from somewhere inside him — stubborn and repeating themselves like songs on a loop.

Arun’s grandmother took him for a walk after the festival. She asked him to name three things he wished were different inside himself. He named impatience, anger at being teased, and fear of trying new things. She smiled and said, “You have spotted an inner Ravan. The first step to killing it is to see it clearly.”

How to Identify the Inner Ravan

• Notice Patterns: Pay attention to moments you regret. What triggers anger, jealousy, or fear?
• Label Emotions: Give the feeling a name — “this is jealousy” or “this is defensive pride.” Naming reduces power.
• Separate Self from Reaction: You are not your impulse. You can observe it without surrendering to it.

Why Killing the Inner Ravan Is Hard

The inner Ravan is hard to kill because it is made of habits and stories we have told ourselves for years. It hides in convenience, in old wounds, in the quick comfort of repeating the same small cruelties. Unlike a paper effigy, it does not burn away in a single evening. It resists because parts of it appear useful — anger can feel like protection, pride can feel like identity, and fear can feel like caution. 

Practical Steps to Confront and Transform the Inner Ravan

Confronting inner faults is not dramatic; it is patient work. Here are practical steps Arun’s grandmother taught him — and steps anyone can follow:

1. Begin with Quiet: Meditation, a few minutes of deep breathing, or even a short walk can create the space to see your reactions without immediately acting on them.
2. Keep a Journal: Write down moments of regret or repeated behavior. Over weeks, patterns become visible and less mysterious.
3. Practice Small Wins: Choose one small behavior to change — pause before you speak, hold your tongue once, make one generous choice. Small wins weaken the inner Ravan’s hold.
4. Replace, Don’t Only Remove: If you want to stop snapping, practice responding kindly; if you want less fear, take small, planned risks that build confidence.
5. Seek Support: Talk with a trusted friend, mentor, or counselor. The inner work is easier with witnesses and guides.
6. Celebrate Progress: Note the days you acted differently. Rewarding new behavior helps it stick.

Stories of People Who Won

I have seen many small miracles. A teacher who used to lash out at students learned to breathe and ask one clarifying question instead — the hostility dissolved into curiosity. A shopkeeper who feared rejection started offering a free sample to strangers; slowly, the fear shrank. None of these people eradicated their inner Ravan overnight, but each small change made life at home, at work, and in the heart kinder and braver.

Conclusion

A Living Festival

Dussehra’s effigies give us a powerful symbol: the courage to confront what is wrong. But the true, lasting victory comes when we turn the festival inward. Burning Ravan outside is important because it gathers people around a shared story of hope. Killing the inner Ravan — the stubborn habits and hidden fears — is the quieter, harder, and more meaningful task. It takes patience, practice, and a willingness to look.

This Dussehra, join the crowd in the fair if you can. Cheer at the fire. Then, whether you are a child with a toy bow or an elder with many stories, take one small step toward identifying and changing one inner habit. That step will be the real victory that lasts beyond the last spark.

Enjoyed this story? If you’d like to support this blog, consider placing an ad or sharing this post with friends and family.