In the Yoga Sutras, kleshas are painted as the five deep-rooted “flies in the ointment” that cloud perception and trip up even the most dedicated practitioners. They’re not random annoyances but the very engines of suffering. Starting in Sutra 2.3, Patanjali lays out:

• Avidyā (ignorance): the mother of all kleshas, weaving a veil that makes reality seem distorted.
• Asmitā (egoism): mistaking the small self for the whole universe, like mistaking a droplet for the ocean.
• Rāga (attachment) and Dveṣa (aversion): the twin siblings of craving and aversion, constantly chasing pleasure or fleeing pain.
• Abhiniveśa (clinging to life): the fear that tomorrow might not come, showing up as all those anxieties about health, loss, or change.

Each of these afflictions arises, lingers, and even sprouts offspring—their distressing consequences. Sutra 2.4 describes how they behave: sometimes active, sometimes dormant, but always ready to pounce. Peeling back their layers feels a lot like skinning an onion—tears are guaranteed.

Patanjali’s roadmap for dealing with kleshas unfolds through the eight limbs of yoga, especially through pratipakṣa bhāvana (cultivating opposite attitudes) and svādhyāya (self-study). Today’s mental-health movement, buzzing around mindfulness apps and breathwork trends, echoes these ancient prescriptions. A recent WHO report on youth anxiety, for instance, highlights how simple awareness techniques—at the heart of yogic practice—can be a game-changer.

Ultimately, kleshas aren’t meant to be slapped away in one fell swoop. Like taming a wild horse, patience and consistent training—through asana, pranayama, meditation, and ethical living—slowly calm their restless energy. The prize isn’t perfection but the steady, unfolding freedom of a mind no longer hijacked by its own hidden knots.