Burning rage or selective storm?

Thirukkural with the Times explores real-world lessons from the classic Tamil text ‘Thirukkural’. Written by Tamil poet and philosopher Thiruvalluvar, the Kural consists of 1,330 short couplets of seven words each. This text is divided into three books with teachings on virtue, wealth, and love and is considered one of the great works ever on ethics and morality. The Kural has influenced scholars and leaders across social, political, and philosophical spheres.
Motivational speaker, author and diversity champion Bharathi Bhaskar explores the masterpiece.
A year ago, I was invited to speak at a prison. Before the programme, I noticed a frail young man fixing a laptop. He looked like any other techie in a corporate office—small-built with inquisitive eyes, neatly dressed.
“I thought he worked here,” I said to the jailer, and swallowed my shock as the jailor called him over. The young man introduced himself as an engineer who was once a team leader at a tech firm. Work was demanding, but life was good—until that fateful night. “My wife and my mother never got along. One night, I returned home—exhausted, stressed and hungry. My mother was visiting the next day, and I had agreed to pick her up from the station without consulting my wife. My wife was furious. I tried to explain, but she wouldn’t be pacified. Something snapped inside me,” he said.
“Blood rushed to my head. I leaped at her like an animal, slapped her hard, and banged her head against the wall. She collapsed. Her eyes, frozen in disbelief, haunt me even now. A momentary rage shattered my life. My child is in her grandparents’ custody; I may never see her again. I don’t know what took over me in that moment. It wasn’t me.” He turned back to his work, a man forever burdened by the question—who was that stranger within him?
Life throws an endless supply of provocations at us-the impatient honking behind us at a red light; the maid taking off on an important day; an overlooked promotion. But for some, anger is not a flicker—it’s an inferno.
Though anger is listed as one of the deadliest of sins, for generations, some men wore their tempers like a badge of masculinity. A Tamil adage says, “The hand that strikes is the hand that embraces”. These are all extensions of the myths about anger – that it helps one succeed and inspires respect; that the supreme hand of the caregiver can hit the vulnerable under their care. But the reality is different. A short-tempered person may be tolerated but never loved.
They are a menace—to themselves and to those who endure their wrath. Anger is not just an emotion; it is a storm that ravages the body. Cortisol levels surge, the pulse races, blood pressure spikes, pupils dilate and sweat pours. Once, this response helped our ancestors fend off wild animals. Today, it fuels tragedies—a husband striking his wife over a trivial quarrel, a father lashing out at a child, a moment of fury obliterating a lifetime of love.
Science corroborates what wisdom has long warned: those who explode are 25% more likely to develop coronary artery diseases. Still, they take pride in ruling their tiny worlds with the assumed authority their anger gives them. It is equally interesting that even the most hot-headed individuals control their tempers before their superiors. Instead, the vulnerable become dumping grounds for bottled-up rage—children, spouses, aging parents.
Thiruvalluvar devoted an entire chapter to anger. He posed a question to those who claim to have tamed their fury:
‘Chellidaththu Kaappaan Sinam Kaappaan: Allidaththu
Kakkin En? Kaavakaal En? ‘
If you claim you are managing your anger, restrain it to those who cannot resist you.
If you boast of suppressing it with the powerful, how does it matter?
Before we pride ourselves on self-control, let us ask: does our restraint extend to those who depend on us, or do we unleash our wrath on them because we can? For anger, like fire, first consumes the hand that holds it.