Necessary Evils? Why We Need a Touch of the Forbidden Five

Let Kaam become connection, Krodh become awe of justice, Lobh become mindful savings, Moh become unconditional love, and Ahankaar become modest dignity.

Necessary Evils? Why We Need a Touch of the Forbidden Five

“ਸਾਕਤੁ ਕਉਰਾ ਮੀਠਾ ਲਾਗੈ ਖਾਇ ਖੁਸੀ ਮਨਿ ਆਇ ॥
ਗੁਰ ਪ੍ਰਸਾਦੀ ਵਿਸਰਿ ਜਾਇ ਤਾ ਨਾਨਕ ਮੋਖ ਮੋਖਤਿ ਪਾਇ ॥”
– Sri Guru Granth Sahib, Ang 415
The spiritually ignorant mistake poison for pleasure and consume it gladly. But through the Guru’s grace, they come to their senses, reject it, and attain liberation.

“There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”
– Hamlet, William Shakespeare

The Middle Way: Integrating, Not Eradicating

Across spiritual traditions, the Five Inner Evils—Kaam (lust), Krodh (anger), Lobh (greed), Moh (attachment), and Ahankaar (ego)—have been described as destructive forces, spiritual thieves, or chains that bind the soul. Sikh thought treats them seriously—but also recognises that the world is not a monastery, and that innate and inbred human nature is not to be erased but elevated.

True wisdom lies not in blind renunciation, but in discernment. In today's complex world, these very drives—if moderated, dignified, and integrated—can become cornerstones of a balanced and meaningful life.

Kaam: Desire as a Creative Force

Desire, or Kaam, when uncontrolled, becomes lust—dehumanising, addictive, and ultimately corrosive. But completely eliminating it would erase intimacy, dissolve romance, and end reproduction itself. Human civilisation, families, and emotional depth all owe something to Kaam.

“ਗ੍ਰਿਹਸਤੀ ਜੋ ਗੁਰਮੁਖਿ ਚਲੈ ਸੋਈ ਪਰਵਾਣੁ ॥”
(Sri Guru Granth Sahib, Ang 952)
"The householder who lives as a Gurmukh is approved and accepted."

In its disciplined form, Kaam is not lust—it is love. It manifests in tenderness between partners, the longing that inspires poetry and music, the intimacy that makes a marriage meaningful. In fact, sacred union and devotion in many traditions are often described using the language of desire. Moderated Kaam creates—not just life, but art, connection, and emotional wellbeing.

Krodh: The Moral Authority of Righteous Anger

Anger—Krodh—is dangerous when reactive and vengeful. But when channelled with restraint, it becomes moral clarity in motion. It is the engine behind resistance to tyranny, the refusal to tolerate abuse, the roar that reminds oppressors they cannot proceed unchecked.

“ਕਾਮਿ ਕਰੋਧਿ ਨਗਰੁ ਬਹੁ ਭਰਿਆ ਮਿਲਿ ਸਾਧੂ ਖੰਡਲ ਖੰਡਾ ਹੇ ॥
(Sri Guru Granth Sahib, Ang 171)
"The body-city is filled with lust and anger; these are shattered by the company of the holy."

Righteous anger is what moved Mahatma Gandhi to resist colonial injustice, what fuels a teacher's discipline, a parent’s protection, or a judge’s verdict. But beyond actual displays of anger, it is the possibility of anger—the potential for just retribution—that inspires awe, not fear, and sustains obedience without slavery. It is what lends weight to the authority of the King, the government, the justice system, or even the Guru's Hukam.

Suppression of all Krodh is not peace—it is passivity. In moderation, anger becomes not rage—but righteous resolve and moral boundary.

Lobh: Ambition that Builds and Shares

Lobh, or greed, is widely condemned—and rightly so. When it spirals into hoarding, corruption, or exploitation, it breeds inequality, erodes trust, and corrodes the soul. But not all desire for gain is immoral. In fact, self-seeking human nature is the foundational premise of free markets and capitalism—a system that, when regulated and ethically guided, has led to unprecedented growth and innovation.

“ਲੋਭੀ ਕਾ ਘਰਿ ਨਾਹੀ ਘਣੇਰੀ ॥”
(Sri Guru Granth Sahib, Ang 415)
"The greedy person’s home is never filled."

Yet ambition, aspiration, and the pursuit of prosperity are not sinful. The shopkeeper seeking honest profit, the farmer investing in better yield for his family, the entrepreneur creating a product to serve a market—each is driven by a tempered form of Lobh. In the broader system, this drive leads to the efficient allocation of resources, the invisible hand Adam Smith described, and the wealth of nations.

Even acts of great charity, public service, and philanthropy are often made possible because someone first generated wealth ethically. Moderated Lobh becomes enterprise. Enterprise, anchored in conscience, uplifts society.

Moh: Attachment That Nurtures and Anchors

Moh—attachment—becomes entanglement when it blinds us to truth or holds us hostage to outcomes. But in daily life, Moh is the foundation of care. It’s what makes a mother weep for her child, what bonds soldiers to their brothers-in-arms, and what compels a teacher to stay after hours for a struggling student.

“ਮਾਇਆ ਮੋਹੁ ਮੇਰੈ ਪ੍ਰਭਿ ਕੀਨਾ ਆਪੇ ਭਰਮਿ ਭੁਲਾਏ ॥”
(Sri Guru Granth Sahib, Ang 67)
"My Lord has created Maya and emotional attachment; He Himself causes us to wander in delusion."

Yet He also offers discernment to use Moh wisely. When you raise a child with love, knowing you must let them go—when you mourn loss but do not drown in it—that is Moh under grace. It gives us our roots. A life without it may be spiritually clean but emotionally hollow. In moderation, Moh is the glue of humanity.

Ahankaar: The Spine of Self-Worth

Of all the five, Ahankaar—ego—is the most subtle and insidious. In its inflated form, it isolates us, breeds arrogance, and distances us from both people and the Divine. But the total erasure of ego is equally dangerous—it renders a person spineless, directionless, and vulnerable to manipulation.

“ਹਉਮੈ ਦੀਰਘ ਰੋਗੁ ਹੈ ਦਾਰੂ ਭੀ ਇਸੁ ਮਾਹਿ ॥”
(Sri Guru Granth Sahib, Ang 466)
"Ego is a deep disease—but its remedy also lies within it."

Healthy ego does not shout; it stands. It affirms: “I am worthy.” It empowers a daughter to speak up at work, a saint to walk in dignity, a citizen to question power, and a community to defend its values. Humility is a virtue, but it must never extend to humiliation. Modest and moderate pride—rooted in truth, not vanity—is essential to uphold dignity in the face of injustice.

Guru Gobind Singh Ji bestowed form, identity, and martial discipline upon the Khalsa—not to stoke vanity, but to ensure that no Sikh would ever bow before tyranny. This was Ahankaar in its sanctified, sovereign form: dignity without domination.

Moderated Ahankaar is not arrogance—it is anchored identity. It is spiritual confidence wrapped in compassion. It is the self, not inflated, but uplifted.

In Conclusion: Alchemy Over Annihilation

The Five Evils are not demons to be exiled but instincts to be understood, disciplined, and transformed. Our intention is not to condone these vices, nor to blur the moral lines drawn by the Gurus and saints across traditions. But we also resist framing human nature in a rigid zero-or-one lens, where only total elimination is seen as purity.

As Sri Guru Granth Sahib teaches, the spiritually ignorant mistake poison for nectar—but through grace and discernment, we learn to recognise, restrain, and refine.

“ਸਾਕਤੁ ਕਉਰਾ ਮੀਠਾ ਲਾਗੈ ਖਾਇ ਖੁਸੀ ਮਨਿ ਆਇ ॥
ਗੁਰ ਪ੍ਰਸਾਦੀ ਵਿਸਰਿ ਜਾਇ ਤਾ ਨਾਨਕ ਮੋਖ ਮੋਖਤਿ ਪਾਇ ॥”
(Sri Guru Granth Sahib, Ang 415)

Let us not rush to condemn these drives, but learn to redirect their force. Let Kaam become connection, Krodh become awe of justice, Lobh become mindful savings, Moh become unconditional love, and Ahankaar become modest dignity. When moderated with wisdom, these instincts do not destroy—they are sublimated into strength, grace, and purpose.

The spiritual journey is not about extinguishing the fire within, but learning how to light the lamp without burning the house.

What do you feel? Do these forces ruin us—or root us in what it means to be human? Let's open this dialogue—with reverence, reflection, and reason.

NOTE: I am not a trained scholar in Sikh Studies or religious studies, in general. I have no claims of mastery or authority. What I offer is a seeker’s voice — a servant’s humble attempt to understand the depths of the divine wisdom encapsulated in these sacred lines. Should I have made any mistake, misinterpretation, or omission, I beg for unqualified forgiveness in advance from the Guru and the readers.