The Ramayana

by Ramesh Menon

  He sighed again, a deep fire flickering briefly in his troubled eyes. ‘They lay waste not only the plants and trees. The monkeys have killed many of our greatest warriors. Vajradamshtra, Akampana, and Dhrumraksha are dead.” His voice fell lower still. “Prahastha is slain.”

  Kumbhakarna growled again in amazement. Ravana continued, “Thousands of our soldiers are dead. Indrajit bound Rama and his brother with the nagapasa; but the serpent noose did not kill them and their wounds healed miraculously. I struck Lakshmana down with the brahmashakti; it only stunned him. The moment Rama touched him with his hands, Lakshmana awoke from the sleep of the shakti, as no Deva could have.”

  His lips quivered, and the memory of his own humiliation filled his fierce eyes. In a whisper, Ravana said, “Then I fought Rama. His arrows were swifter than mine. He smashed my chariot; he killed my horses and my sarathy. He broke the bow in my hand and the crown on my head. He struck me down into the red mire of the field, and I was his to kill.

  “But shining like my death above me, he said, ‘Go back to your palace and rest. You are tired. Come again to fight me with a new chariot and another bow.’”

  The Rakshasa choked, as if those words were flaming poison in his throat. A bitter laugh tore its way out of him. Desperate Ravana grasped his brother’s hand and cried, “The hour of my direst need is here. I need your help today as I have never done before, or I would not have woken you. Go into battle for me, Kumbhakarna; go like Yama among Rama’s army. You are my only hope now, only you can save me.”

  Unpredictable as ever, Kumbhakarna laughed. “We warned you in the people’s sabha. Vibheeshana warned you, but his wisdom fell on deaf ears. There is no escape from the evil path you have chosen to tread. The hell you made for yourself has come seeking you.

  “A wise king never disregards the Shastras. He does not ignore the truth for the sake of his lust. A wise king, Ravana, is never threatened by danger. But you, who have always been so cautious and so sage, chose to abandon dharma for the sake of this woman Sita. When you had lost your heart to her, you listened only to the flatterers in your court. But they, who turned wrong to right and sin to virtue, to say whatever you wanted to hear, they who ignored all the omens, were the worst traitors. And it was to them you chose to listen. You were deluded by the arrogance of your wealth and your power; my brother, you were deluded by your own vanity.

  “Where is Prahastha now, who swore he would raze Rama’s army by himself? Ravana, you ask me to fight against Rama. But it is my dharma as your brother, who loves you, to warn you. I will gladly go into battle for you, but I do not think this is a war you should pursue. Give her back, Ravana; my heart tells me we must return Sita at once.”

  Ten heads flashed into view. The lips on ten dark faces throbbed; twenty eyes glared at Kumbhakarna. Ravana howled in rage at what his brother said to him.

  “How dare you! You are my younger brother; how dare you preach to me? You speak so glibly of the Shastras. But you seem to forget that an older brother is to be treated like a father, not scolded like a child.”

  Even the thought of giving Sita up was like dying to Ravana. But then he considered the truth of what Kumbhakarna had said; he knew his brother was right. Ravana softened, and nine heads withdrew out of sight.

  He sighed again and said more quietly, “Perhaps you are right, and I have strayed from the path of kings. It may be true that I have been overwhelmed by love and deluded by power and wealth. But Kumbhakarna, the wise do not waste time mourning the past. Our lives are threatened; this is not the time to argue the rights and wrongs of our situation.

  “I have sinned, I confess it today. I have sinned; otherwise, Rama’s arrows would not have felled me as easily as they did. But he who helps a sinner out of love is noble indeed. Only you can save me now, only you can kill this kshatriya. Decide, my brother; will you fight my cause? I am sure that if you do, not the greatest vanaras, not Rama and Lakshmana, will stand before you. Help me, Kumbhakarna; it is the hour of my despair.”

  At once Kumbhakarna’s whole manner changed. Gently now, he said, “I am not yet dead, am I, that you should tremble like this? No matter who is right or wrong, I will kill the kshatriya. He has come to our gates with war and I will kill him. I only said what I did out of love for you. Do not think I have forsaken you as Vibheeshana did. Fear nothing any more, Ravana. Kumbhakarna is awake now and he is ready for battle. Within the hour, I will bring you Rama’s head and throw it at your feet.”

  A slow smile lit Ravana’s face; hope stole back into his heart. Kumbhakarna went on, “You speak of danger, my brother. But I will rid you of this danger as the sun does the earth of night’s darkness. Smooth the anxiety from your brow. Go to your harem, Ravana; order a flagon of your best wine and celebrate with your women. Victory shall be yours within the hour.” Kumbhakarna smiled with surprising softness. “When Rama is dead, she will come to you, the one you are so hungry for. She will be yours forever.”

  Ravana cried, “When they see you with your trisula in your hand, they will think Yama himself has come to war. Go, my noble brother, bring me the heads of the princes of Ayodhya.”

  Kumbhakarna sent for his trident. It was carried by two rakshasas: a great and fell weapon, a thing alive. When Kumbhakarna took it from them, it glowed with uncanny light. Kumbhakarna smiled, “I need no army to go with me. I will go into battle alone.”

  But Ravana said, “The monkeys are ferocious. They hurl rocks at us, and trees that they pull out of the earth easily as blades of grass. If you let them near, they bite viciously and scratch with long nails. Take an army to guard your back and your flanks; the vanaras are savage and unafraid.”

  Ravana rose. He was certain the battle would turn his way once Kumbhakarna went to fight. The king took a golden chain from a table next to his throne. It shone with emeralds, rubies, and pearls, all huge and iridescent; all cut specially for Kumbhakarna. Ravana placed the shimmering necklace around his brother’s neck and embraced him. An exquisite casket sat on the table. Ravana drew some bracelets from it, and a diamond ring set with a solitaire as big as a child’s fist. He knew how much his brother loved jewelry—as a woman does. He adorned Kumbhakarna with these priceless ornaments. Kumbhakarna stood there, as resplendent as Himavan, Lord of mountains.

  Finally, the king himself fastened his brother’s impenetrable kavacha around his vast body. He hugged him as he might a child, with as much fondness, and kissed him on both cheeks. Again and again Ravana embraced him, and Kumbhakarna lay at his feet to receive his blessing. Ravana raised him up and clasped him once more.

  It was time for Kumbhakarna to go into battle. Ravana went with him to the palace door to see him on his way.

  21. The dreadful one

  Surrounded by Lanka’s most intrepid warriors, maharathika Kumbhakarna went forth to battle Rama and the vanaras. He rumbled at his rakshasas, “The human princes have made Ravana afraid. But I will kill Rama and Lakshmana, and the monkeys will flee Lanka, those we leave alive.”

  Their morale restored by the giant’s presence, the rakshasas returned to fight. Evil omens gathered in the sky when Kumbhakarna appeared. But when they were pointed out to him, he laughed like thunder. “Who believes in these grandmother’s tales? I am Kumbhakarna. The natural laws that bind other men have no power over me.”

  Kumbhakarna came to the northern gate, and beyond it he saw the vanaras, countless, oceanic. But the sight did not dismay him. He had fought such armies before, and not of mere monkeys, but Devas and gandharvas armed with unearthly ayudhas. He had never lost a battle yet; he was elemental, no one could contain him.

  When they saw him coming, the monkeys whimpered and those in front fled like clouds scattered by a gale. Like a night of terror, he advanced. His golden ornaments were streaks of lightning against his dark body; his pearls were moons. Some distance from the vanaras, the titan stopped. He was as big as ten men, and much bigger when he grew with mahima.

  Kumbhakarna saw that the vanaras had re
covered from the first shock of seeing him. Clutching onto one another for courage, somehow they stood their ground. The monumental rakshasa threw back his head and roared. Covering their ears, the monkeys scampered back to Rama. Growling, Kumbhakarna stood up in his chariot, his trisula burning in thick hands.

  Over the heads of the fleeing vanaras, Rama saw the awesome giant who had come to battle. He asked Vibheeshana, “Who is this monster? He is as big as a hill and wears a crown on his head. His eyes blaze tawny fire, and I have never seen anyone like him before. What is he, a great Asura?”

  Vibheeshana said, “He is Visravas’s son and Ravana’s brother; he is Kumbhakarna, my half-brother. Ravana has his strength by Siva’s boon, but Kumbhakarna was born like this. They say he has no equal in battle; and though they love each other dearly, even Ravana is careful with him. Kumbhakarna is so strong that he has never known fear.

  “In the war against the Devas, I saw him chase Indra and Yama from the field like children. The ones of light and the lords of the nine planets fled from him, thinking he was Rudra come to raze Devaloka. He is the biggest rakshasa ever created, and the strongest and bravest one.

  “As soon as he was born, and he was full-grown in a day, Kumbhakarna felt such a hunger that it seemed only devouring all the world would satisfy him. Everything he saw, he ate. The people of the earth fled to Indra. Indra cast his thunderbolt at Kumbhakarna. But though the vajra struck him squarely, it did not harm him. Howling and laughing at once, the demon broke one of Airavata’s tusks and chased the Lord of the Devas with it.

  “Indra fled to Brahma. Brahma arrived on his swan and, seeing Kumbhakarna back at his endless gorging, the Pitamaha cried, ‘Let sleep come over you and may you never awaken. For if you do, you will devour all my creation.’

  “At once, Kumbhakarna fell into a deathlike slumber. But Ravana, who loved Kumbhakarna, worshipped Brahma. When the Creator appeared before him, Ravana said, ‘Your curse is like letting a champaka tree grow to fullness, and cutting it down when it begins to flower. Mitigate your curse; let my brother not sleep forever.’

  “Brahma said, ‘Very well, let him awaken for a day after every six months. But only a day; otherwise, the world will hardly survive his hunger. He will wake for a day and sleep again for another half year.’”

  Vibheeshana continued, “Rama, the day he wakes he eats like time itself, only more greedily. He devours whatever comes his way, beasts and men, elephants and tigers, anything at all.”

  Rama listened, astonished, to the tale of Kumbhakarna of the plumbless appetite. Vibheeshana said, “You have shaken Ravana, that he has roused Kumbhakarna and sent him into battle. But Rama, our army of monkeys flees just to see him. How will they stand and face him when he begins to fight?”

  Rama called out to Neela, “Son of Agni, let the vanaras collect rocks and trees, and surround this enemy when he is near.”

  Hanuman, Gavaksha, Sharabha, and Angada climbed to the top of the mountain. Roaring their challenge, those mighty vanaras began the battle: they hurled huge rocks down at Kumbhakarna’s army. Angada called to his soldiers, “Foolish monkeys, it is not a real rakshasa but a contrivance that roars to terrify you. Stand and fight, vanaras!”

  They were not entirely convinced. But reluctant to let their prince down, the vanaras came back into battle. Hundreds of monkeys surged forward. With powerful sinews, they flung their wild missiles at Kumbhakarna. But tree and rock were blown to dust against his body. Kumbhakarna raised his head again, smiling. He roared once more and the advancing vanaras were rooted with fear.

  Then he was among them like an evil storm; he was an army by himself; he was death. He burned the vanaras with his trisula, its flames leaping before him in a livid tide. That trident spewed three fires, emerald, scarlet, and blue. Each was a yojana long and half as wide, and the vanaras were ashed where they stood. Those whom he caught in his hands, Kumbhakarna ate, they screaming and he laughing uproariously at the feast of monkeys before him. He smacked his lips: he liked the taste of their flesh as well as any leopard of the jungle.

  The vanaras ran screaming from Kumbhakarna. They flew back to the bridge across the moat outside the city. But Angada stood behind them and roared, “It is a shame on our race that you flee from battle! What are your lives worth once you run like this? Let us die with honor instead, and our fame will outlive us as a divine fragrance. Let us die and find a lofty place for ourselves in Brahmaloka. Stand and fight. Watch what happens to the monster when Rama comes to kill him.”

  But the immediate prospect of living was more attractive to the monkeys, and they pushed back in a wave to escape the demon giant. Angada stood between them and flight. He bared his fangs in such fury that suddenly they preferred to face Kumbhakarna, who was at least some distance away. Caught between terror and terror, the poor vanaras turned back to fight.

  Dwividha came from behind the monkey lines with a piece of a mountain raised above him. Roaring to chill demons’ blood, he cast the crag at Kumbhakarna. But it was heavier than he had thought, and his aim was false. A hundred rakshasas who surrounded Kumbhakarna were crushed with their horses and chariots under the peak. The monkeys were encouraged. Now Hanuman arrived at the front with a boulder in one hand and a tree trunk in the other.

  But Kumbhakarna stood laughing at this paltry opposition. Hanuman’s tree trunk, flung with force enough to mow down a legion, was burned to ashes by flames from the trisula. The vanara’s rock was blasted into powder. Kumbhakarna came on in a wave of blood. He came feasting on vanara flesh, throwing the screaming monkeys into his jaws, two and three at once. His echoing laughter terrified the vanaras and again they turned tail. This was death, naked and inescapable, that swept them in its way. They were not foolish enough to stand and let it consume them.

  Just then Hanuman maneuvered himself near Kumbhakarna and fetched him a stunning blow on his face with a tree trunk. Roaring in shock, blood breaking on his lips and through his nose, the rakshasa staggered where he stood. His laughter was stanched for a moment. But quick as light, Kumbhakarna thrust out his trisula like a striking serpent. The green flame from it took Hanuman in the chest, and he fell. In a wink Dwividha was at his side, staving off the giant with rock and tree. Hanuman rose groggily and fought on.

  But the vanaras had seen the demon stagger when Hanuman struck him: they knew he was not invincible. The monkeys gained heart and came back to fight. But they could not stand against Ravana’s gruesome brother. He slaughtered hundreds of them and his chariot waded through a lake of blood. Everywhere the vanaras lay dead and dying, the wounded screaming pitiably. The giant picked them up, thrust them into his maw, and chewed on them, rolling his eyes. The hunger of waking was still upon him powerfully, and he found he liked the new meat he had tasted today more and more.

  The only vanara who could engage Kumbhakarna at all was Angada. He fought hand to hand with the titan whose body shone so eerily. Angada used speed and agility, rather than try to match the giant’s strength. Quick as cunning, he dodged and weaved under the flames of the trisula. He found that even Kumbhakarna had to pause for breath, or, perhaps, to recharge his weapon. During those gaps in the fire the trident shot out, Angada would leap to the rakshasa’s side and rock him with prodigious blows.

  When the flaming trisula was lowered again, Angada was away, leaping out of range, ducking and weaving as Kumbhakarna roared in disgust. Losing patience, he flung the trisula at Angada. But the vanara prince had been goading the demon to just this indiscretion, and he dodged the trident nimbly. He leaped at the unarmed rakshasa and struck him a flurry of blows, each one enough to kill any other warrior. Kumbhakarna reeled; he even fell briefly. But then, growling, he struck Angada from where he sat on the floor of his chariot. Like a rag doll, the vanara flew back fifty paces and was carried unconscious from the field.

  Seeing this, and Kumbhakarna without his fiery weapon, a hundred monkeys jumped on him. They clung to him, fastening long nails and fangs in his flesh. But this merely
seemed to tickle him. He plucked them off, some with his own flesh clinging to their mouths, and ate them alive. When the lesser vanaras fled again, Kumbhakarna stormed after their king. He had seen Sugriva kill hundreds of rakshasas, away from where he himself fought.

  When he saw the dreadful one looming at him, Sugriva seized a flat rock and leaped into the sky. Poised there, he called down to the blood-drenched monster, “You are a legend, Kumbhakarna. You devour my little monkeys and base your fame on your gluttony. But let us see how you wear this stone I crown you with.”

  Kumbhakarna smiled hideously, baring fangs longer than a tiger’s. He growled, and that sound was like the roaring of an army. “Monkey, don’t brag; I know who you are. You are Riksharajas’s son and Brahma’s grandson. But let us see your valor in battle, not just your boasts. Come, throw your little stone at me.”

  Sugriva cast the wind-polished rock down on Kumbhakarna’s head like a thunderbolt. But it broke in a thousand fragments and fell harmlessly around the titan. Kumbhakarna threw back his head and laughed. Meanwhile, the trisula he had flung at Angada flew back to him. But Hanuman snatched it out of his hand and snapped the weapon of triune fires on his knee. Roaring to silence every other noise around him, and quicker than seeing, Kumbhakarna swept up a smooth stone from the ground and brought Sugriva down with it like a bird from the air.

  With a triumphant yell, the demon bent down and picked up the unconscious vanara in his arms like a baby. He then started to lumber back into Lanka, having shrewdly decided to make the monkey king his hostage. He would bargain for his life with Rama and the vanaras: he would sell Sugriva back to them dearly. Hanuman saw him go. He wondered if he should fly to his king’s help, but decided that Sugriva was canny enough, and strong enough, to escape by himself.

  Kumbhakarna swaggered into Lanka with Sugriva in his arms. While the rakshasas lined the streets, shouting victory, the giant shambled toward Ravana’s palace. Unknown to Kumbhakarna, Sugriva had woken from his faint. But he decided to lie still until he had full command of his faculties.