On Dussehra every year, we celebrate the triumph of Dharma (righteousness) over Adharma (unrighteousness). The Valmiki Rāmāyaṇa concludes with the death of Dashamukh Ravana and Shri Rāmāchandra rescuing Devi Sita, returning victorious to Ayodhya.
This symbolises the defeat of external, perceivable evil.
But a deeper lesson exists in the lesser-known Adbhuta Rāmāyaṇa. After Dashamukh’s fall, a greater foe emerges. Sahasramukh Ravana, the elder brother with a thousand heads.
If Dashamukh represents visible tyranny, Sahasramukh represents something far more insidious — the mastery of manipulation.
Unlike his younger brother, who stole property, raped women and killed innocent people, Sahasramukh attacked the mind itself, using deception to corrupt from within.
Thus, he corrupted the very foundation of righteous living, imposing tyrannical customs disguised as Dharma itself.
In this piece, I have examined how a philosophical legacy continues to disguise itself as Dharma and why it should be defeated.
In Hindu philosophy, Ahimsa (non-violence) is a profound spiritual principle, but never unconditional. Its meaning is tethered to Dharma. The Bhagavad Gītā is unambiguous. It is a call to Dharma-yuddha (righteous war). Arjuna is exhorted to fight injustice with clarity and detachment (Gita 2.31–37). While non-violence is a high duty (Sāmānya Dharma), the highest duty is to protect righteousness and stand against unrighteousness (Viśeṣa Dharma), even when it demands force.
Hindu scriptures recognise that violence itself can be Ahimsa when used to prevent greater violence. A king protecting his subjects, a householder defending his home, and a soldier in battle are some of the contexts mentioned where practising Ahimsa would be Adharma, not Dharma.
The very principle of Ahimsa, rooted in respect for all living beings, demands that those who violate this sanctity be stopped. This is the balance of Dharma that was obscured and manipulated.
This nuance can be best understood through the Draupadi Cheerharan episode from the Mahabharata, where the men in the assembly are prevented from taking action against it because they believe they are following their Dharma by not doing so; Shri Krishna makes it aptly clear afterwards that their understanding is completely erroneous.
Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi’s popularisation of ‘Ahimsa Paramo Dharma’ often isolated this principle from its scriptural context. The doctrine that emerged, epitomised by ‘if someone slaps you, offer the other cheek’, represents a fundamental misreading of Hindu philosophy.
This interpretation distorted the Gita’s call to courageous action into a justification for national passivity, inadvertently weakening generations by presenting Hinduism as passive endurance rather than balanced strength. True Dharma demands balance. The wisdom to know when to extend compassion and when to wield the sword.
Many continue to hail him as the ‘Father of the Nation’ while he was never formally conferred the title by the Government of India, as confirmed by multiple RTI responses. This exposes how his philosophical authority was deliberately elevated above both law and balanced historical scrutiny, making his flawed doctrine an unquestionable article of faith.
Gandhi’s 1938 suggestion that Jews apply Satyagraha against Hitler was largely viewed as a morally suicidal injunction because they recognised that even in India, non-violence resulted in horrific consequences. The Jallianwala Bagh massacre, Moplah genocide, Noakhali riots, and police violence during Salt Satyagraha and Quit India proved that non-violent resistance towards violence merely enabled systematic brutality, massacres, ethnic cleansing, and torture.
By many accounts, it is clear that his non-violence exasperated the revolutionary leaders because it shielded the British from the wrath of the Indian people. Yet we continue to be taught that Satyagraha actually worked.
The implication is that the British who colonised us were such conscientious people that they bowed before Gandhi’s non-violent methods and quit India, and that is just preposterous.
This is why this selective canonisation is dangerous; it creates a mask hiding complexity and consequences. Here lies the key parallel. Dashamukh is the external tyrant. Sahasramukh is the internal foe, the multi-layered lie that weakens the spirit.
The ‘Gandhification’ of Hinduism functions as a modern Sahasramukh, a philosophy that has weakened Hindu ethical and martial duty, teaching passivity as the highest ideal. This manipulation is Adharma itself.
Not because it advocates explicit evil, but because it destroys the internal will to confront injustice. But the Gandhification of Hinduism is only one of his thousand heads.
So how do we fight a demon who corrupts the mind itself? The Adbhuta Rāmāyaṇa offers an answer. Sahasramukh cannot be defeated by Shri Rama alone.
Protected by a blessing that no man can destroy him, he meets his end only when Devi Sita transforms into Mahakali and severs his thousand heads. This echoes Devi Durga’s nine-day battle against the shape-shifting demon Mahishasura, the theological foundation of Navratri.
Durga and Mahakali are not passive deities. They embody Shakti, the divine feminine power that awakens truth, courage, and the ferocity to fight injustice.
They are warriors of righteousness. Shri Rama (divine masculine) exemplifies physical courage, and Devi Sita (divine feminine) exemplifies mental courage. So when the demon attacks the mind itself, only she can destroy him.
We need Shakti, not just Rama. Viveka (discernment) unites the power of both, for it requires intellect guided by depth and intuition. In this era of information warfare, the battlefield has evolved, but the battle remains the same. We need viveka to cut through masked narratives.
To recognise when virtue-signalling conceals weakness, when peace-talk enables oppression, when Adharma wears the mask of righteousness itself.
The demon with a thousand heads doesn’t announce himself grotesquely. He speaks in the language of virtue, wears the garb of peace, and teaches that suffering silently is noble, that standing for Dharma is extremism, that strength is somehow less spiritual than surrender.
Mahabharata (12.156.4) contains one of the most significant shlokas of Hinduism that reveals the foundation of Dharma:
सत्यं सत्सु सदा धर्मः सत्यं धर्मः सनातनः ।
सत्यमेव नमस्येत सत्यं हि परमा गतिः ॥
Translation: Truth is the eternal (Sanātana) Dharma, one should constantly pursue and practice truth for it is the Supreme Goal (Paramā Gati).
Without truth, Dharma becomes a hollow ritual, platitudes twisted to serve any purpose. Sahasramukh doesn’t destroy truth overtly. He buries it under layers of half-truths, selective history, and sanctified narratives we’re forbidden to question.
When we forget Shakti, we forget the real meaning of Dussehra. Dharma demands we become seekers of truth, not blind believers in agenda-driven narratives. We must examine what we’ve been taught and ask the uncomfortable question: Does this serve Dharma, or does it serve those who benefit from our passivity?
This requires intellectual honesty, something far more complex than physical courage.
The battle against Sahasramukh is the battle for truth; it is fought in the mind, in culture and society, in the courage to pursue truth even when it burns. Every time we choose honest inquiry over comfortable misconceptions, every time we refuse to let virtue mask cowardice, we become closer to Dharma.
During this year’s Dussehra, we must commit to severing the thousand heads of comfortable lies until what remains is Dharma rooted firmly in truth.
This article has been sourced from Samridhi Seth, a legal and policy consultant by profession.
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