Patanjali names five afflictionskleshasक्लेश: five ways the mind clouds itself and, in clouding, suffers. They are not sins, and naming them is not a scolding. They are closer to the mechanics of how a clear mind goes murky, the standing currents underneath the surface fluctuations the practice works to still.
The five are listed in order of depth, and the order matters. The first is the root; the other four grow from it. Loosen the root and the rest lose their grip on their own.
Not seeing clearly — Avidya
not-seeingAvidyaअविद्या is the ground the other four grow in: mistaking the passing for the permanent, the surface for the centre, the layers for the self. It is not stupidity. It is the ordinary, sticky habit of taking yourself to be the role, the body, the story, the mood, rather than the awareness in which all of those appear. Every other affliction is a way this one root expresses itself. This is the same confusion the whole framework is built to undo: see the Layered Self for the fuller map of what gets mistaken for what.
The sense of "I am this" — Asmita
I-am-nessAsmitaअस्मिता is avidya hardened into a self. It is the small voice that says I am my opinions, I am my achievements, I am the one who must be right. A self gets built out of whatever is nearest, then defended as if life depended on it. Most of the friction in a day is asmita protecting its borders. The ego is not an enemy to destroy; it is a useful tool mistaken for the whole person. It is also the layer the ethical limbs work on most directly: Yama and Niyama meet the ego where asmita lives.
Pulling toward — Raga
attachmentRagaराग is the reach for more of what felt good: the second helping, the next achievement, the pleasant memory replayed until it wears thin. The trouble is not enjoyment. The trouble is the pull, the quiet conviction that the next pleasant thing is where contentment finally lives. That conviction is the engine of the hedonic treadmill, and the clearest view of how it runs us lives on Samadhi.
Pushing away — Dvesha
aversionDveshaद्वेष is raga's twin, turned the other way: the recoil from what hurt once, the grudge kept warm, the whole catalogue of things and people we have decided to be against. Pushing away takes as much energy as grasping, and binds the mind just as tightly. What we refuse to feel runs us as surely as what we chase.
Fear of death — Abhinivesha
fear of deathAbhiniveshaअभिनिवेश is the deepest and the quietest: the clinging to life, the recoil from our own death. Patanjali notes that even the wise feel it, which is what makes it the subtlest of the five. It is raga and dvesha at their root, the grasping at being and the refusal of its end. We spend a great deal of energy not looking at this directly, and much of what we do without noticing is this fear, disguised.
How the afflictions loosen
The kleshas are not removed in a single stroke. They thin. They are met first in their gross forms, then traced back to the root, the way you would weaken a plant by returning again and again to where it draws its water. Patanjali's practical handle is the everyday discipline of Niyama: steady effort, honest self-study, and the loosening of the grip on outcomes. Each chips at a different affliction, and all of them at avidya underneath.
This is also why the path insists it cannot be forced. Avidya is undone by seeing, not by strain, and the seeing arrives as the mind grows quiet enough to hold it.
The same pattern, other names
Buddhism maps almost the same terrain with its three poisons: greed, hatred, and delusion. The overlap is close and worth noticing: greed sits near raga, hatred near dvesha, delusion near avidya. The difference is real too. Buddhism declines the language of a permanent self entirely, so where Yoga loosens the ego to uncover the awareness beneath it, Buddhism describes that centre as no-self and interbeing. Different maps, the same knot being worked loose.