Ravana may have been the villain of the Ramayana, but his ten heads have long fascinated storytellers – not for their menace, but for what they represent: complexity, intelligence, ego, and excess. Ten minds thinking at once can be a superpower – or a curse.
If we borrowed that symbolism for a moment (without borrowing his morals), what might we do with ten heads today? Would we multitask better, think deeper, or simply overthink in surround sound? From juggling careers and families to balancing screens, deadlines, and ideals, most of us already feel like we’re living with a few extra heads.
To explore this idea, we asked six writers to imagine what they would do with ten heads – and what each one might stand for in today’s world. Their answers range from funny to profound, but all reveal something about how we live, think, and dream in modern times.
As we mark Dussehra (the triumph of balance over chaos), perhaps it’s worth remembering: we don’t need ten heads to see the world clearly. One heart, open and steady, might just be enough.
SRUTHI SAJEEV
It’s hard to tell if having ten heads would be a curse or a blessing, but one thing’s for sure: it would give me the power to be the closest thing to a real-life Barbie – a girl who does it all. As someone who is keen to take on way more hobbies than I have time for, having ten heads might be just what I need to finally do it all.
One would be engrossed in studying physics, one would play music and another would be busily catching up on my reading list. At the same time, certain hobbies may not be viable. I mean, can you imagine my 10 heads taking up the netball court? Or multiple lanes in a swimming pool?
And when it comes to deciding the next hobby to try, would all ten heads need to unanimously agree for me to begin anything? Trying to resolve any scheduling conflicts would turn into a three-day meeting!
I’m starting to think having just one head has its benefits… even if it means cutting down on my list of hobbies.
LAKSHMI GANAPATHY
- Remembering to lock the front door.
- Calculating my taxable income and when the best time to visit the Cayman Islands is.
- Figuring out the name of the woman teaching my Monday night Pilates class.
- Crushing boxes before I put them in the recycling.
- Drinking Chinotto.
- Deciding how many chuddies to pack for my next trip to India.
- Nothing, I’d just have a lobotomy so there’s extra storage space for cashews.
- Memorising the lyrics to Mambo No.5
- Keeping track of the password to my internet banking.
- Learning how to play the accordion.
NAVISHKAR RAM
If I had ten heads, I’d fill each one with a dying virtue. With compassion, politeness, care, helpfulness, concern, gentleness, truthfulness, generosity, honesty, and courage. Each head would hold a flame, not of ego or conquest, but of purpose. Compassion would see beyond itself, politeness would disarm hostility, care would restore dignity, and helpfulness would lift those burdened by silence. Concern would notice what the world ignores, gentleness would soothe what is harsh, and truthfulness would steady the mind against deceit. Generosity would remind me that giving is not loss, honesty would anchor me to integrity, and courage would compel me to act even when the world stands still.
If I had ten heads, I would turn them toward the cries that go unheard, the struggles buried beneath indifference, and the hearts dimmed by cruelty. I would use them not to rise above others, but to walk beside them, to empower the weary, comfort the grieving, and uplift those forgotten. Each head would be like a diya, lit not for power, but for light, a reminder that even amidst darkness, goodness still breathes.
TORRSHA SEN
I have ten heads. Heads within a head. Honestly, who doesn’t?
My first head is the dutiful daughter, forever worrying about my aging parents’ health and emotional well-being. The second is the restless futurist, peering into the foggy crystal ball of what’s next. My third is the hardcore romantic swamped in unrequited love…still looking for the right ending (or plot twist) to an unfinished love story that might one day bloom into a book of poems.
Then comes my workaholic head, constantly thinking of work, followed closely by the financially frazzled one, hyperventilating over bills, taxes, and EMIs at the very last moment. My sixth head? It’s already on Skyscanner, planning a trip that may never happen.
The seventh is the doom-scroller, thumb-deep in reels, memes, and Bollywood gossip. The eighth is the ambitious strategist, charting milestones that seem way too distant. The ninth is pure nostalgia. A wistful curator of “what could have been”. And my tenth? That one sits in quiet rebellion, endlessly asking: what’s the purpose of all this anyway?
Ten heads. All arguing, overlapping, overthinking. Together, they make me, part spreadsheet, part sonnet, part existential chaos.
APOORVA TANDON
If I had ten heads, I’d give each a job: one to vibe, one to panic, one to flirt, one to overshare, one to regret it immediately. One would chase passion projects, another would nap through ambition. They’d all claim to be ‘working on themselves,’ but somehow still end up watching pasta from scratch recipes till 3 am, even though none of them can cook.
One head would journal about balance, another would online-shop to recover from journaling. Two would plan a better morning routine, one would snooze through it. One would say “we need to focus on self-love,” and another would ask if that means posting or deleting everything.
By evening, three would spiral over not knowing how taxes work, one would remind us we still borrow money from Dad, and the rest would pretend everything is fine.
Honestly, one head’s already too much.
MANAN LUTHRA
One head would be devoted to adventure. It would store memories of my experiences in South America, Central Asia, and Africa. And it would be the voice that pushes me further into this crazy world.
Another head would be the working head, practical and always switched on. The fun head would be the creative one, retaining a fascination with art and performance. I’d need a head filled with curiosity too – one that never stops learning.
A head for friendship – the keeper of secrets, laughter, and shoulder-to-lean-on moments. A head focused on relationships and family would be sweet.
I’d also need a head that is quick-witted – I always think of the best jokes after a situation!
A head that keeps its hair would be nice. Ditto one where that hair could be coloured, shaped in fun ways, and experimented with. Give that head an Instagram page.
That leaves me with one more head. That head will be for others. It will find ways to bring people together, to give care, and to support those who are struggling. And it would be the head I use the most.
READ ALSO : Saanjh Malhotra: A third-generation Indian on Diwali
