With ten heads, twenty arms, a flying chariot, and a city of gold, Ravana is one of the most flamboyant villains in Hindu mythology. He abducted Sita, the wife of Rama, and was struck down for that. Ravana is the demon king of the Ramayana, the lord of the rakshasas, whose effigy must be burnt each year in the autumn festival commemorating the victory of Rama.
Yet, there is much about him to be admired—he was a poet who composed the Rudra Stotra in praise of Shiva, the ascetic god; he was a musician who used one of his heads and one of his arms to design a lute called Rudra Veena, in honour of Shiva. When Hanuman entered Lanka, in search of Sita, he found the demon lord lying in bed surrounded by a bevy of beauties, women who, drawn by Ravana’s sexual prowess, had willingly abandoned their husbands. Rishi Agastya informed Rama that Ravana was only half-demon: his father, Vaishrava, was a Brahmin whose father was Pulastya, one of the seven mind-born primal sons of Brahma himself. So after killing Ravana, before returning to Ayodhya, Rama went to the Himalayas to perform penance and purify himself of the sin of Brahma-hatya or the killing of a Brahmin.
Rama, by comparison, seems boring—an upholder of rules who never does anything spontaneous or dramatic. He always does the right thing, whether he likes it or not, and does not seem like much fun. It is natural therefore to be a fan of Ravana, to be seduced by his power, to be enchanted by his glamour, and to find arguments that justify his actions.
In the corporate world, flamboyant CEOs do get a lot of attention, especially if they also happen to be successful CEOs, with their very own city of gold built on rising stock markets. One is dazzled by the cars they drive, the lives they lead, their swagger, their confidence, their individual aura that makes them giants amongst their peers, powerful men like Trilochanji who command authority and demand allegiance. Trilochanji’s team admires the way he can pick up the phone and get things done. He has the money to buy anybody who stands in his way. And the political clout to get all the clearances. He has, in a short while, managed to grow his business at a rate that his predecessors could only imagine. Trilochanji’s organization is in awe of him. And everyone fears him.
By contrast, Asutoshji, Trilochanji’s cousin, is a very mild man. His business has grown rapidly too, but no one knows about it, because he does not push his public relations department too much. Why? ‘Because press coverage has no impact on my business.’ He meticulously gathers data, plans his strategies with his team, empowers his directors to implement them thoroughly, keeps a hawk’s eye on deviations, and ensures the numbers are met. Few would notice him in the office. He dresses like others do, uses the same toilet as his employees, loves spending his Sundays only with family, and is happiest when he can give his employees a good bonus and his shareholders a good dividend. Not the best results in the market, but much better than last year. The point, he says, is not show-spikes of brilliance but a steady sustainable growth. His speeches are boring, too accurate, and lack the glamour of Trilochanji’s. And when in crisis, Asutoshji will not pick up the phone to call a politician, nor will he look for people he can buy out; he will meticulously plan his action to solve the problem without looking for short cuts. ‘Because,’ he says, ‘short cuts always have long-term repercussions and I will not risk it while I am the custodian of my company’s future.’
It is simplistic to call Trilochanji a Ravana and Asutoshji a Rama simply because the former is flamboyant and commanding while the latter is boring and task-oriented. What makes Ravana villain of the Ramayana is not his heads, or arms, or flying chariot or city of gold. It is his strategic intent.
What does Ravana stand for? He never built the city of gold—he drove out his brother, Kubera, and took over the kingdom of Lanka. He went around the world killing sages and raping women. Why? To establish his dominion and to generate fear. Why did he abduct Sita? Avenging his sister’s mutilation was but an excuse; it was the desire to conquer the heart of a faithful wife. And during the war, he let his sons and his brothers die before entering the battlefield himself. His desire for victory over Sita and Rama mattered more than the lives of his people.
Ravana lives only for himself. His pleasure matters the most. Ironically, he is a devotee of Shiva—the ascetic, the god who demonstrates his disdain for all things material and sensuous by smearing his body with ash and living in crematoriums and atop a desolate icy hill. Ravana may sing praises of Shiva and bow to him, but despite having ten heads is unable to internalize the wisdom of Shiva. Maybe he does understand Shiva’s ascetic philosophy intellectually, enabling him to compose potent hymns, but he is unable to follow Shiva’s way in spirit. For all his prayers and poems, he remains attached to power and pleasure and wealth—all things material, and all things transitory. He is no nihilist; he is simply a weak man, a talker, not a doer.
In Hindu mythology, a leader is not one who rules a city of gold or travels on a flying chariot. He is one who lives to make a positive impact on the lives of others. Leadership is not about self-aggrandizement. It is about creating a society where people can live a full life. Rama is hero and God, not because he is a boring obedient son, but because by being an obedient son, he demonstrates his commitment to ‘others’. He lives not for his pleasure, as Ravana does, but for the pleasure of those around him. And the journey is not easy—for one can never please everybody. Trilochanji’s empire is a by-product of his desire to dominate and be feared while Asutoshji establishes businesses to satisfy his employees and consumers to the best of his ability. It is the difference in strategic intent that makes one Ravana and the other Rama.
