Don't we all have a Ravana living within? A kingdom of virtues where our sins are on siege, Ten heads of darkness that hide under a crown of gold, And a thousand untold battles brewing in every soul? One head wears pride that refuses to bow, One head craves power that cares not how, One head is burning with anger, one with greed, One head envies another's plowed field. One head aches to have vengeance take its toll, One head would grasp, mistake that for zeal, I know, One head would lurk in lust and schemes, One tramples on people on its way to supreme dreams. But the tenth head wears wisdom, magnificent and grand, That cannot stop what the heart has planned, For knowledge sans conscience is dangerous art, Even learned hearts are sometimes strangers to the heart. We curse the Ravana who burns in the flame, Yet we nurture our vice, without any shame. We curse his pride, arrogance, and disdain, Then build our kingdoms of cruelty and pain. We pray to Lord Rama to come on a boat, To grant his subjects courage and hope, But we too let our dark hearts decide, What we must do -- with cruelty and pride. We preach compassion, forgiveness and grace, As we quietly wound up our meeting place. Maybe the Lanka is not across the sea, But the fortress of egos that refuse to flee. Maybe the battle is not with the bow, But with demons we carry we daily grow. For Ravana is not only a villain of yore, A monstrous ten-headed king of yore. He lives in us all, with the impulses, We choose to defend every hurtful gesture. And so let us ask when Dussehra arrives, Have we battled our darkness, or condemned some names to fires? For what is this ritual, if not a charade? When burning an effigy is all that we do for the day.