THE COSTUME & THE CONFLICT Santa and Ravan: The Internal Story of the Doers

PART 1: SANTA — THE GIVER FORCED TO ASK 25th December. A mall. Santa is working. Not giving. Collecting. Money before smile. Payment before joy. The problem is not commerce. The problem is identity. Santa exists to give. That is his only truth. Joy without conditions. Giving without memory. But the man inside the costume knows his hand is doing something his soul was never trained for. Asking. So two voices live inside one red suit. One whispers: Give. The other orders: Collect. This is not exhaustion. This is internal resistance. Children don’t notice. Parents accept. Systems optimise. But the doer feels it. Because when action contradicts identity, you don’t get tired of work. You get tired of yourself. Santa didn’t lose magic. Magic was reassigned. From giving to billing. PART 2: RAVAN DAHAN — THE MAN CARRYING BORROWED DIVINITY Dussehra evening. Crowds gather. Fire waits. A man becomes Ram. Another becomes Sita. Another becomes Ravan. Hands fold. Feet are touched. Abuse is shouted. Blessings are asked. And inside the costume, the man knows: “This worship is not for me.” He carries belief that does not belong to him. He absorbs hate meant for a symbol. He holds reverence he must not own. This is heavier than labour. This is emotional discipline. To be treated as what you are not and not become it requires rare strength. The role ends. The fire burns. The crowd disperses. The man returns home without applause. Borrowed divinity returned. Self quietly reclaimed. PART 3: THE SHARED TRUTH — THE DOERS OF THE WORLD Santa. Ravan. Ram. Sita. Different costumes. Same conflict. The world never reacts to people. It reacts to symbols. And doers are asked to: Carry symbols. Perform roles. Deliver outcomes. Without confusing role with self. Teachers chasing marks. Doctors racing clocks. Leaders extracting results. Salespeople rewarded for taking, not creating. They don’t complain. They perform. But inside, they negotiate daily: “Is this still me?” The most dangerous part? The costume looks noble. The crowd applauds. The system rewards. Only meaning slips away quietly. This is the internal story of the doers. They don’t break loudly. They hollow slowly. And still, they show up. — End —