Today is Vijaydashmi, which is often labelled as the festival celebrating the triumph of good over evil symbolized by the victory of Rama over Ravana. While good and the evil feel so black-and-white in the Ramayana, they're often not. And it's not about choosing sides, but more often than not about the moral dilemma of choices we have to make in our lives.
Shri Ram’s story itself is a story of choices - he could have refused to go into vanvas (exile) in the first place - after all his father had no right to make a commitment on his behalf. Later, when Sita was abducted by Ravan and kept in Lanka, he could have summoned his brother Bharat and the army of Ayodhya, or easier still, sought a treaty with Ravana - perhaps giving away some territory in exchange for Sita’s return. But the story we inherit is not of Rama choosing the easiest settlement.
To me, the significance of that choice is larger than the recovery of Sita alone - after all, as we know from Uttar Kand, Ram sent Sita back into exile upon wish of his subjects, against his own wish. So, his cause could not have been a lover's strife for his loved one. Rama could have sought a bargain that secured his personal objective. Instead, he confronted Ravana’s tyrannical rule and fought to liberate Lanka from it. The victory was not simply a matter of getting back the love of his life; it was a refusal to accept that peace purchased without the larger goal of liberating the world from the tyranny of an unjust ruler was good enough.
In more recent times, Gandhi could have built a legal practice in London or South Africa and devoted himself to providing for his family. It is well known that his sons struggled for an education, and his political commitments placed great demands on his family life. None of this would have happened if he chose to live a personal life as a barrister and fulfil his commitments only to his own family. He could have abandoned public life after he became successful in South Africa and built a cozy life, based on the connections he had with the wealthy Indian merchants in South Africa. But he chose to return to India and lead the country into a freedom struggle which was aimed to liberate India not just politically, but also from the evils within our society.
Nehru too, as the son of an illustrious and prosperous barrister, could have pursued a legal career and lived a life of great wealth and comfort. He could have built a flourishing legal practice in London. One can imagine the scale of wealth and influence such a life might have brought - perhaps something comparable, in its own way, to the great fortunes associated with the Aga Khan trusts or the Hindujas. But Nehru simply dedicated his entire life to political emancipation of India, and then to its development.
Gandhi and Nehru made choices with consequences for their families, and their lives should not be reduced to simple tales of sacrifice. But both turned away from the private security their circumstances might have offered and committed themselves to a public struggle whose outcome was far from certain.
History is full of such forks in the road. Some were faced by rulers defending their kingdoms; others by people deciding what to do with their education, position or opportunity. Their circumstances were different, but the question was familiar: do we choose the easier life available to us, or do we take responsibility for a cause beyond ourselves?
Maharana Pratap could have accepted Mughal suzerainty, as many other Rajput rulers did, and continued to rule under the Mughal emperor. Such an arrangement might have preserved his position and the outward grandeur of kingship. But instead he chose to persevere at a great personal cost. Mewar suffered, and Pratap and his own kin spent years fighting under difficult conditions. His story is not simply that of a king defending his personal prestige. It is the story of a ruler who refused to accept that accommodation was the right and just path, even when resistance meant hardship and the future was uncertain.
Ahilyabai Holkar’s struggle was different - after the deaths of her husband and son, Ahilyabai sought permission from the Peshwa to rule the Holkar territories and was refused. She too could have accepted her fate, she would still have been provided a comfortable position of a regent princess and lived a life filled with royal comforts and pleasures. But she fought the patriarchy within the Peshwa bureaucracy, and her fight did not just win her a right to rule, but what she did with that rule made a larger difference. Her support for public works and welfare of her people - specifically women in general, and widowed women in particular. Her example reminds us that sometimes the difficult path is not a battlefield. It is insisting on the right to serve when others would prefer that you remain in the background.
When the British annexed Jhansi, Rani Lakshmibai appealed against the decision, but the appeals failed. The British offer granted her a pension and required her to leave the fort. Had she accepted the arrangement and lived on the pension, she would have lived a life of comforts - away from the responsibilities and dangers of ruling a kingdom. Instead, she resisted and became one of the most prominent leaders during the uprising of 1857. It is easy, looking back, to turn her life into a legend and forget the real choices involved. The pension offered a measure of security; resistance brought danger and ultimately death. Lakshmibai chose not to treat the loss of Jhansi as a private misfortune to be compensated for. She fought for the kingdom and its people, knowing that the odds were against her.
Tipu Sultan’s story was different - he first entered into a treaty with the East India Company. After the Third Anglo-Mysore War, the Treaty of Seringapatam in 1792 forced him to surrender territory, pay a heavy indemnity and even hand over two of his sons as hostages. He accepted those terms when defeat left him little choice. But the treaty did not end his resistance to British expansion. he continued to oppose the Company and died defending Seringapatam in 1799. His story is not that he never negotiated; it is that he first sacrificed his own son's as a part of the settlement, but ultimately did not turn a forced settlement into a permanent surrender of his political purpose.
Tipu's story contrasts several other rulers of his times who accepted British suzerainty to live lives filled with Royal comforts while their settlement and acceptance of the British policies made their subjects suffer at the hands of an unjust rule, and caused irreparable damage to India's economy for over two centuries. Each state faced similar circumstances, and each ruler made choices within them. But Tipu’s life stands for the cost of continuing to resist when a safer accommodation might have preserved a throne and a royal household.
And then let's think of our dear Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose. He had passed the Indian Civil Service exam and could have secured a prestigious career in the bureaucracy - in fact many who would have accepted such a role later continued to serve after India became independent. He could have taken up the post and built a successful life within the colonial administration and later. Instead, he withdrew from the service joined the freedom struggle. Later, he took many more risks and ultimately raised the Indian National Army, which could have been the ultimate reason for India's speedy liberation in '47.
Even post independence, we had many such stories where people made the right choices. Verghese Kurien’s story is probably the most illustrative of them. After studying abroad on a government scholarship, he was assigned to work at a government creamery in Anand. He could have completed his service and moved on to a more predictable career. Instead, he became involved with the cooperative movement led by Tribhuvandas Patel and the milk producers of Kaira. Kurien left his government job and worked with the farmers to build their cooperative which ultimately grew into Amul and transformed India’s dairy sector.
Then we have the doyen of Indian industry - J.R.D. Tata. Born in Paris, J.R.D. could have retained his French citizenship, instead he renounced it and became an Indian citizen. This was not a choice to give up wealth or a successful career - he went on to lead the Tata Group and contribute to the growth of Indian industry. But it was a choice about belonging and where to place his future. His story is different from those who gave up a profession or risked their lives in a political struggle. It belongs here as a quieter example of commitment: choosing India as home and making one’s work part of its future.
Vijaydashmi is about making the right choice
Most of us will never be asked to defend a kingdom, give up a prestigious career or risk our lives for a political cause. But we face smaller versions of the same question.
Do we speak up when silence would be easier? Do we continue with work that matters when recognition is uncertain? Do we continue to live in a certain place and work for its progress and upliftment or abandon it for greener pastures elsewhere? Do we stand by a principle when doing so may cost us an opportunity? Or do we choose the convenient compromise - not because it is right, but because it helps us avoid conflict or gains us comfort?
I am not saying every compromise is wrong, and every struggle is wise. Sometimes rising above one's personal ego and entering a compromise for the larger good may be the right choice to make. The question is what we are compromising, and why. There are times when negotiation and accommodation are necessary. But there are also times when avoiding a struggle means abandoning something that matters - or leaving someone else to bear the cost.
The spirit of Vijaydashmi is not only in the final victory. It is also in the decision to keep going when victory is uncertain: to resist, to serve, to take responsibility and to stand by a cause beyond oneself.
We celebrate Rama’s victory over Ravana. We should also remember the choices that made such a victory possible - and the people in every age who chose not to give up before they knew how the story would end. That, in my opinion, is the complete spirit of Vijaydashmi.
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