Hanuman

by Vanamali

“My Lord,” said the charioteer, “it is the duty of a charioteer to protect his master. Our horses were tired and you were also fatigued and in a faint. I saw nothing but ill omens and thought it best to bring you away from the situation.”

  Ravana was pleased with his devotion and presented him with his own bracelet. The charioteer whipped up the horses as commanded by his master and took him in front of Rama once again.

  Rama requested Matali to maneuver the chariot to a good position. He raced his horses straight at Ravana’s chariot and deflected them to the left just before they collided. As they passed, Rama shot an arrow deep into Ravana’s shoulder. The demon king clutched desperately at the flagstaff to stop himself from falling. The chariots turned and faced each other once again. The rest of the army stood like painted figures, spellbound by the awesome scene. Ravana tried to bring down Indra’s divine banner and failed, while Rama’s arrow found its mark and brought down Ravana’s pennon. Ravana was biting his lips and darting sparks from his eyes when he found that none of his arrows were hurting Rama. The latter, on the other hand, had a slight smile on his lips, as his arrows seemed to be finding a sure mark.

  There ensued another terrific battle between the two heroes. Matali advised Rama to make an end of the ten-headed demon before the approach of night. Rama then fitted an arrow resembling a venomous snake and sliced off the resplendent head of his opponent adorned with huge earrings. But to his astonishment, in front of his very eyes, there arose another head in the place of the previous one and then another and another as each was cut off.

  Ravana’s ten heads are meant to convey his enormous ego. With just one head all of us have egos that are impossible to control. Think of the ego of a person with ten heads! When each ego head was chopped off, another reared its haughty hood. It is the same with us. When our ego is put down in one place, we immediately find another place or situation by which we can make ourselves feel important.

  Rama was beginning to feel a bit worried, though his face remained calm, and he kept sending a continuous stream of arrows from his bow. Then Vibhishana approached him and whispered to him that Ravana could be slain only with the brahmastra that Brahma himself had given him. This was hidden in Mandodari’s apartments and without it, the fight could go on forever. Hanuman immediately leaped to Lanka and, taking on the form of an aged Brahmin, he hobbled before Mandodari. She was delighted to see this venerable Brahmin and offered him all hospitality. The Brahmin then warned her that Vibhishana had told Rama of the existence of the only weapon that had the power to kill her husband and that was hidden by her. He advised her to remove it to a new hiding place.

  Mandodari became panic-stricken and ran to rescue the arrow from inside the crystal column in which she had carefully hidden it. Hanuman immediately reverted to his own form, grabbed the arrow, and flew back, leaving Mandodari in tears.

  Hanuman gave the arrow to Rama and whispered in his ear, “My Lord! Remember who you are. Ravana’s moment of death has come. Despatch the brahmastra and kill him. Do not aim at his head but at his chest!”

  The time destined for Ravana’s death had come. But when Rama looked at Ravana’s heart, it is said that he saw Sita enshrined within, and inside Sita’s heart, he saw himself. He was in a dilemma. What could he do? He waited for that split second when Ravana forgot Sita in his anger against Rama and at that precise moment, he whispered the incantation of Brahma and sent his golden-tipped arrow straight at Ravana’s heart. It was the most powerful weapon known to man or god and very few human beings were initiated into its mysteries, for its power for destruction was so great that no one who had not learned to control himself could be trusted with it. Hence in ancient India, scientific knowledge was only given to those who had strong moral and ethical qualities and who could be depended to use it for the good of mankind.

  The dart was made of the essences of all the five elements. Flaming like the fire of universal destruction and as fatal as the power of Time, the dart fled from Rama’s bow like a streak of lightning and found its mark on Ravana’s chest. Piercing his body through and through, it sank into the earth and then swerved and returned to Rama’s hand like a meek servant. The invincible bow of the king of demons dropped from his nerveless grasp and his body, full of splendor, fell like a thunderbolt from the chariot. Seeing him fall, the night rangers fled in all directions, shrieking with fear.

  The watching gods rained flowers from the sky, and the sun came out from behind the clouds. Ravana’s life was fast ebbing away. The mighty king of the rakshasas, who had ruled the entire world with the might of his arms alone, now lay dead on the battlefield, a prey to every passing vulture and jackal. He who had no equal in might and valor, he who had terrified the whole world and thus earned the name Ravana (the terrifier), who had pleased Lord Shiva himself by his glorious chanting of the Sama Veda, had been killed by a mere mortal, as had been prophesied. His lust for another man’s wife had killed him as well as the curses of all those women whom he had ravished. Even in death, he had not lost his splendor. He looked as dazzling as a fallen sun, glorious even in death.

  Lakshmana, Sugriva, and the others crowded round Rama and congratulated him. Vibhishana was suddenly struck with remorse and wept for his proud brother who had come to such an end. Rama comforted him by saying that Ravana had indeed died a hero’s death.

  “This is the path pursued by the heroes of old,” he said. “For a Kshatriya, there is a right way of living and a right way of dying, and he has chosen the right way of dying if not of living—on the battlefield. Vibhishana! All enmity ends with death. Now go and do whatever rites are to be performed for him as per the rules, for there is no one else to do it for him but you.”

  Mandodari, foremost queen of Ravana, mother of the brave Indrajit, now came running to the battlefield, her hair disheveled, her face streaming with tears, and threw herself over the body of her dying husband.

  “How could such a calamity have overtaken you, my noble Lord? How is it possible for a mere mortal to have killed you? This Rama must be divine. The fact that he defeated Khara and Dhushasana single-handed should have convinced you that he was not an ordinary human being. When I heard that he had built a bridge across the sea, I knew that he was not an ordinary mortal. I know now who Rama is. He is the Lord Narayana himself—the Supreme Purusha. He has assumed the garb of an ordinary mortal for the purpose of saving the world, and the gods themselves have assumed the forms of these monkeys. It is Narayana who has killed you, my Lord, not a human being. How can you lie on the bare ground shrouded by dust when you are used to reposing on the softest and most sumptuous of couches? Why do you not speak to me, miserable creature that I am? Once upon a time, you performed many austerities with your senses under perfect control, and now those very senses, like untamed horses, have dragged you to your death. Sita is a noble lady, devoted to her husband. She should have been honored by you, but instead you chose to insult her. Her tears of shame and despair have killed you and not Rama’s arrows. What does she have that I lack? In birth, I am her equal, in beauty she is in no way superior, yet blinded by lust, you chose to carve out your dreadful end. You brought death to Lanka the day you brought her here. Now she will be reunited with her Lord and will live happily with him, while I will have to lie on my lonely bed, plunged in sorrow without you. Where has your smile gone, my Lord? Where is the look of love in your eyes when you gazed at me? How proud I was of my good fortune! I was the daughter of the architect of the asuras, and my husband, the king of the rakshasas, and my son, the most valiant warrior in the whole world. How could I believe that death would rob me of my dearest treasures in one fell stroke?”

  So lamenting, Mandodari fainted over the dying body of her husband and the other women had to carry her away. Again and again she ran back to have a last look at her husband’s beloved face, which she would never see again. Refusing to go away, she sat on the ground next to him and put his head on her lap, whispering words of comfort to him.

  Following clo
se on her heels came the rest of his harem, composed of thousands of ravishing women who had been picked from all over the world, famed for their beauty, whom not even the sun had seen for they had never been allowed to go out in the streets. They ran to the gory battlefield and threw themselves over his blood-stained body and wept piteously.

  “Our Lord had been granted immunity from death by Brahma and now he has been killed by a mere mortal. Why did you never listen to us? You abducted Sita despite our advice. She has been the cause of the extermination of the entire race of rakshasas. Had she been restored to Rama, all this would never have happened. You spurned the words of Vibhishana. Fate is indeed all powerful. It was ordained that Ravana, the greatest of all monarchs, would be defeated by a mere human being, helped by a pack of bears and monkeys!”

  While the rest of the monkeys were celebrating, Hanuman came near Rama and said, “Ravana was a great scholar, even though he was unrighteous. Let us take advantage of his enormous knowledge before he dies.” Both Rama and Lakshmana went near Ravana. Lakshmana stood at his head and said, “I have heard that you have a great deal of knowledge. We are the victors, and therefore you should pass it on to us before you die!”

  Ravana painfully turned his head away in silence, refusing to answer Lakshmana’s request. Now Rama came forward and knelt at the dying king’s feet and said softly, “Ravana! I have killed you not out of malice but because it was my duty to save my wife. However, I have great respect for your vast knowledge and would deeply appreciate it if you would share it with me before you die so that it will not be lost to the world!”

  Ravana slowly opened his eyes and said, “I accept you as my pupil, O Rama! For you sat at my feet and spoke with all humility as a student should. I’m willing to impart my knowledge to you.”

  Then to the astonishment of all those who had gathered there, the dying Ravana, with his head on Mandodari’s lap, revealed to his enemy Rama the subtleties of philosophy, politics, economics, fine arts, dance, music, drama, and statecraft. Thus the villain became a teacher and the hero a student!

  Ravana was fast losing his life breath and could do no more than whisper. At last the mighty hero could no longer speak and his lifeless head was held in a tight grasp by his faithful queen, whose hot tears fell unheeded over his face.

  Rama now told Vibhishana to set about the task of cremating Ravana. His body was placed on a pyre made of sandalwood and many other types of fragrant wood and herbs. It was draped with the skins of black antelopes. Curd and ghee were poured on his shoulders and a wooden mortar inserted between his thighs. The corpse was draped with different types of costly silks and garlands. Roasted grain was sprinkled over it. It was then carried in state by everyone and placed on the pyre of sweet-smelling wood. With great reverence, Vibhishana touched the earthly remains of his brother with a flaming torch and set fire to it. He completed all the rites connected with the funeral and gave oblations to the departed soul. Then he went and saluted Rama and told him that everything had been done according to his wishes.

  Rama prostrated himself to Indra’s chariot and thanked Matali and sent him back. He then asked Lakshmana and Sugriva to take Vibhishana to the city and crown him as king. He did not go himself since his fourteen years of exile were not over. Lakshmana took Vibhishana to the city of Lanka. He placed him on the throne and gave him the ceremonial bath by pouring consecrated water over his head, and thus pronounced him King of Lanka. Only a few citizens were left to cheer the new king. The once populous and prosperous capital of Lanka now looked like a deserted ghost city. Even royal fortune fails at last and turns away from the greatest kingdom.

  The great Rama/Ravana war ended on the morning of the fourth day, just past the first night of the new moon, close to the summer solstice when the sun turns in the sky to begin his journey to the north.

  The ascetic king, Rama, is the ruler of the universe,

  And you are the one who carries out his tasks.

  SRI HANUMAN CHALISA BY TULSIDAS

  Aum Sri Hanumathe Namaha!

  Aum Uttamaaya Namaha!

  27

  Uttaman

  Trial by Fire

  The flame was as cool as sandalwood, as Sita entered it,

  Meditating on her Lord.

  “Glory to the king of Kosala, for whose feet,

  Ever worshipped by Shiva,

  I cherish the purest devotion.”

  RAMACHARITAMANAS BY TULSIDAS

  Though the thought of Sita must have been foremost in his mind, Rama sternly subdued it and saw to Ravana’s cremation as well as the welfare of the citizens of Lanka by crowning Vibhishana before seeing to the matter that was closest to his heart.

  Turning to Hanuman, he told him to go to Sita, give her the happy news, and find out how she was faring. Hanuman was delighted to be given this most pleasant task.

  He flew in a flash to the ashoka grove, his white fur round his neck ruffled with happiness. He saw Sita surrounded by rakshasis, sitting in a forlorn mood, for no one had told her the news so far.

  With folded palms, he bowed low to her and gave her the happy news. “Take heart, O divine lady! Rama and Lakshmana are well and happy and have sent me here to give you glad tidings. The ten-headed one has been killed by your husband! Lanka has been placed under the rule of Vibhishana, who will be coming here shortly to pay his respects to you.” Sita couldn’t say a word, as she was overcome with joy.

  At last in a trembling voice, she said, “I really don’t know how I am to repay you for the wonderful tidings that you have brought me, my dear monkey! Neither silver, gold, precious stones, nor even the sovereignty of the three worlds can equal in value this message that you have given me.”

  “This speech of yours, O Mother, so full of love, is the most precious gift I can receive. I have received the blessings of all the gods by these words.”

  Out of the overflowing gratitude she felt, Sita told Hanuman, “O son of Vayu! You will always be the stronghold of valor, strength, knowledge of scriptures, vigor, prowess, skill in action, forbearance, firmness, stability, and humility. These and many other brilliant qualities will always exist in you!”

  Standing meekly in front of Sita, Hanuman said, “My Lady! Believe me, I have spent sleepless nights thinking of your pathetic condition, and now it is my luck that I have been chosen by our Lord to bring you this joyful news. Mother! If you will permit me, I will kill these rakshasis who have been torturing you for such a long time.”

  Sweetly Sita said, “Why should servants be blamed for carrying out the orders of their master? Moreover, it is my fate that has ordained that I should be treated thus. Perhaps I have committed some crime in the past for which I am being punished now. Everyone reaps the fruit of his or her own actions of the past. So spare them, dear monkey. No one is infallible. To err is human. The virtuous do not return evil for evil. It is my duty to condone their conduct, which was forced upon them by a higher authority.”

  Hanuman bowed to Sita and desisted from killing the rakshasis. He then asked her for a message to be given to Rama. Sita told him to tell Rama that she was longing to see him. Hanuman once again bowed and said, “You will undoubtedly see the scion of the race of Raghu very soon.”

  He leaped into the air and returned to Rama and said, “The princess of Mithila has heard of your victory. At the very mention of your name she became wild with joy and her eyes filled with tears. She is thin and wan with grief and told me to tell you that she is longing to see you, so please go to her.”

  Rama’s eyes filled with tears when he heard this, but he remained sunk in thought for a while. At last he sighed and told Vibhishana to bring Sita to him after she had been given an auspicious bath and clothed in beautiful apparel.

  Vibhishana went to the ashoka grove and conveyed this message to Sita. She replied, “I want to see my husband now and not waste time in bathing and ornamenting myself.”

  Vibhishana said that it was his duty to obey Rama’s commands implicitly and that he cou
ld not take her as she was. Sita contained her impatience to see her Lord and allowed Vibhishana’s wife to bathe and anoint her with sandal paste and unguents and clothe her in costly apparel. She wore a silk yellow robe and a crown of fresh and fragrant wildflowers. She was even more beautiful than Lakshmi. She then got into the richly decorated palanquin that was kept ready for her and went before Rama. He was still lost in thought and sat with his eyes fixed on the ground.

  The vanaras and rakshasas crowded around the palanquin, eager to have a glimpse of the beauty for whose sake so much trouble had been taken and the whole race of demons annihilated! Vibhishana and the others pushed them back and ordered them to go away, since Rama would want to see his wife alone and in any event, it was not correct for the common populace to view a lady of the royal household.

  Rama chided him and said, “A woman’s protection should be her purity and chastity and not a wall or a veil. Let them stay where they are and see her if they wish. Let them gaze as much as they want on the beauty of the princess of Videha. Moreover, it is only right that she should be seen by those who fought and died for her sake. Ask her to step out of the palanquin and approach me all alone.”

  Lakshmana, Hanuman, and Vibhishana were all puzzled by Rama’s strange behavior. Vibhishana led Sita, who had covered her face with a veil, to her husband. Like the chakora bird drinking in the nectar that drops from the moon, she lifted up her veil and gazed adoringly at his beloved face. It was many months since she had seen his beloved face and as she gazed, she felt her strength returning to her limbs and the glow to her face.