The outer wars are but elongated shadows of the war within. The cancerous disease of thoughtlessness is eating away the eye of spirit. Involved in this tragedy, man fears and declaims about the iniquity of neighbours and kin; all the while the trouble is within himself. He is suffering from the delirium tremens of consciousness, having drunk to the full of selfishness; pride rules his will; egotism energizes his conduct.

—Thus Have I Heard

Festivals like Vijayadashami, Janmashtami, Deepavali are reminders to us of the presence of the light of divinity within. Vijayadashami or Dasara is the festival of victory. Dasara is celebrated on the tenth day in the bright fortnight in the month of Ashwin. It is the festival associated with war. It is on this day that Goddess Durga won a victory over the buffalo demon Mahishasura, once defeated all the gods, so that even Indra, the king of the gods, had to run away from heaven. He, along with other gods, went to Siva, and hearing their grievances Siva sent Durga, his wife, to destroy the demon. It is said that all the deities provided her with potent weapons—Siva gave her his trident, Vishnu his disc, Yama his spear and so on. After a fierce battle of nine days and nine nights she destroyed the demon on the 10th day. Different deities assisted Durga, implying that all the forces of Nature help as long as Dharma is on our side. It is on the same day that Lord Rama obtained victory over Ravana.

Now destroying Mahishasura, a demon with the head of a buffalo, signifies the crushing of our animal nature. It also represents the victory of good over evil, of light over darkness. It is the victory of those who preserve the cosmic order over the disrupters of the cosmic order.

It was on this day that the Kshtriyas used to cross over the boundaries into the territories of each other, indicating the need to go beyond our limited powers and abilities. But these limitations are brought on us by Karma, i.e., by the way we have lived our lives in past incarnations. Each one of us is invited to cross over the self-created boundaries. Have we ever thought it possible that we can transcend our present limitations and be a Buddha, experiencing unconditional happiness?

It is said that even Buddha, before he was born as Prince Siddhartha, in one of his prior lives was only a sweeper. But when as a sweeper he saw a Tathagata—Buddha Deepankara—he was impressed by his calm and compassionate appearance and decided to emulate the Tathagata. After that it took him the effort of many lifetimes to become a Buddha.

A beginning has to be made from what we are and where we are. But when we introspect we feel: "I pray to god, help people whenever possible, do my work sincerely, so all in all, I am leading a good life and others around me feel the same about me." Thus, we are satisfied, not finding the need for higher goodness. As Prof. C. S. Lewis points out, it is only when this natural goodness lets us down, only when some experience shows that being good and nice is not enough, that we realize the need to become "new men."

We start with our ordinary self with its various desires and interests and discover with pain that morality often requires giving up some of our desires that we consider legitimate. We experience an inner conflict. "Living the higher life" means waging a war not only against our vices, but also against our habits, beliefs, pet theories and our likes and dislikes. Each spiritual aspirant has "at the first step to take himself steadily in hand and put the bit into his own mouth; no one else can do it for him."

When we attempt to do this, there is an opposition on the inner planes from our own tendencies. A small resolve to take a walk for 15-20 minutes every day in the morning will give rise to many conflicting forces. Our habit of late rising, reading the newspaper in the morning, having our tea leisurely, etc., will clash with this resolve. Why are we habituated like this?

Our body cells are made up of very tiny units of energy, called elementals. Many such elementals form one cell. All our thoughts and feelings are impressed upon these elementals. All our habits leave a deep impress upon these elementals because we have been doing it for many years and many lives. Such elementals may be compared to an army of soldiers, who are trained in a particular way to follow a given set of commands. If the colonel of the army changes and he wants them to work in a different way, then he would give a different set of commands. But as the commands change, the soldiers would unite and oppose. Now, it would require great effort on the part of the colonel to efface their old habits as also the memory of old commands. Breaking a habit amounts to washing the concerned elementals clean of their first impressions, and giving them reverse kind of impressions.

In an ordinary person, the good and bad tendencies exist as complex collective forces, but when one decides to achieve some spiritual goal, these tendencies separate out into good and bad tendencies—into Kaurava and Pandava armies. Whenever one aspires towards a higher life, the good tendencies flourish, but it is a death sentence for the bad tendencies.

At a higher level, these separated tendencies act as an abyss, preventing the warrior from retracing his steps. As Shri Krishna tells Arjuna in the Gita, although he may not fight, his enemies will now fight, as they have been aroused. In other words, having made the choice and undertaken spiritual discipline, it is not possible to go back to living the irresponsible life. As Light on the Path suggests, this is as impossible as that a man should become a child again.

Not only can we not run away, but also we cannot effect a compromise. We cannot be lenient with our lower tendencies. Our mental posture should be: "A firm position taken with an ideal end in view." No doubt, this is a long and difficult battle. As we have been building up these tendencies over many lifetimes, we cannot expect things to change overnight. Mr. Judge says, "Be patient even with yourself." We may begin by conquering small enemies. We may begin by practising a little asceticism every day. For instance, we may decide to adopt a simple lifestyle and give up overindulgence in things we like to do. In fact, we must make it a point to perform little acts of Dana (charity), Tapas (mortification) and Yagna (sacrifice) every day.

The most difficult foe to overcome is Ahankara or egotism. Mr. Judge mentions in Letters That Have Helped Me:

The question of sex is not the most difficult. The personal one is still harder. I mean the purely personal, that relating to "me." The sexual really relates only to a low plane gratification. If Nature can beat you there, then she need not try the other, and vice versa; if she fails on the personal she may attempt the other, but then with small chance of success.

Since we are up against foes such as these, the spiritual battle is a long one and a fierce one. The Voice of the Silence describes what kind of a warrior we need to be:

The fearless warrior, his precious life-blood oozing from his wide and gaping wounds, will still attack the foe, drive him from out his stronghold, vanquish him, ere he himself expires. Act then, all ye who fail and suffer, act like him; and from the stronghold of your Soul chase all your foes away—ambition, anger, hatred, e'en to the shadow of desire—when even you have failed.

In spiritual life one must be prepared to try again and yet again. What is it to remove a vice "even to the shadow of desire?" It means overcoming every vice in its subtlest form. For instance, when we do not actually hate a person but we criticize everything connected with that person, then that is indirect hatred, which must be overcome.

All our vices when conquered in their gross form reappear in subtler form. For instance, ambition can appear at the level of wealth, fame, power and love. Often we do good without caring for material reward, but a little introspection shows that we are being ambitious at another level. We may look for public acclaim, recognition, praise, etc. If even this is foregone, then this ambition lurks at the level of power. We may not want wealth or fame, but we want to be consulted in everything that is done. If all three levels are surmounted. We at least want to be loved for our good works.

We shall need Virya or Spiritual energy, which is not to be manufactured but results on surrendering personal will to the Divine Will. Are we going to fight the battle all alone? We are all Arjunas. Like Arjuna—who had as his charioteer no less a person than Krishna himself—we too can invoke Krishna's help. Light on the Path gives advice: "Stand aside in the coming battle, and though thou fightest, be not thou the warrior....He is thyself, yet thou art but finite and liable to error. He is Eternal and is sure."

Let us beware that the divine within is the Perfect Warrior who will settle for nothing less than complete victory. The more we obey our conscience, the more it demands. As Prof. C. S. Lewis suggests, in the spiritual life there are no half measures. It is not cutting a branch here and a branch there, but the whole tree. We are guided towards the goal of absolute perfection. We may say, "I never expected to be a saint, I only wanted to be a decent chap." When some old habits are conquered we expect to get on smoothly, only to find that we are faced with new troubles and temptations. We are pushed to higher levels, so that we can be more patient more loving and braver than before.

Even at the eleventh hour, we have a chance to turn the corner and seek the guidance of our Higher Self. The warrior "will never utterly desert thee." We may feel deserted when we lose touch with our divine nature, temporarily. A Master of Wisdom writes:

As the lost jewel may be recovered from the depths of the tank's mud, so can the most abandoned snatch himself from the mire of sin, if only the precious Gem of Gems, the sparkling germ of the Atma, is developed. Each one of us must do that for himself.