I seethed with anger. Trijata, who stood a few feet away, burst into sobs. She had been a friend and co
mpanion to Sita since the day she had been brought to Lanka. It was for her that Ravana was losing his empire and his dreams. It was for Sita that so many poor Asuras had died. I could have choked her to death at that moment.
Ravana stamped a foot and drew his sword from its sheath in great anger. “You. . .you. . . I had staked everything for you. I have lost my sons, my honour, my city. . . everything, so that my daughter could be happy. And this is what you say? I sacrificed thousands of men for your sake.” He raised his sword and I anticipated the swift swoosh of the sword severing the head of that hateful Deva woman. She looked at her father, unfazed, her eyes taunting and challenging the great Asura Emperor to behead her. Ravana’s sword came within an inch of her throat but stopped dead there. Then slowly the strong arm of Ravana that had severed many enemy heads over the past four decades, went limp. “Sita. . .you are my daughter. . .” the King muttered as the famous Chandrahasa fell onto the red earth of Lanka.
A jeering laugh was the answer. “Daughter! A daughter who could be thrown away when inconvenient? A daughter your people never wanted? And what a father!”
I wanted to leave my hiding place and grab that obnoxious woman by her hair, but to my shock and surprise, I saw Ravana stand with his head bowed. He stood with silent tears flowing from his reddened eyes. Then slowly he turned and walked back to his palace.
“I wish you death! A painful and prolonged one.” shouted Sita, as the King of the Asuras walked away with heavy steps.
Ravana aged ten years before my eyes. Death awaited the old King, and as wished and prayed for by his daughter – a long prolonged and painful one. I wanted no part of this bloody, family feud, between father, daughter, and son-in-law. But what choice did people like me have, or had ever had?
60 End of a dream
Ravana
I started out to the battlefield in a depressed mood. Mandodari had been emotional. She had not wanted me to go. She asked me to hand Sita over to Rama and appeal for peace. Peace. . .a word for cowards. ‘Women! They will never understand reason.’ I had to literally prise her away from my body as she shouted, cried, tore her hair and beat her breasts. That too, in front of all my soldiers. It was embarrassing. She accused me of sacrificing everyone for my pride. She cursed Sita and I became angry. I shouted back and threw a tantrum that cowed the poor woman. She was still to recover from the shock of losing her son and I should not have behaved so harshly with her. ’But then I have always behaved badly to her. Why just her, to all the women in my life.’
In my anger, I broke my Veena into two. I had loved music and I did not want any monkey-man playing with my instrument after I had gone. I had tried to codify the ragas and lyrics I had composed. Hopefully, they would survive me and my empire. I had experimented with paediatric medicine and astronomy and meticulously jotted down my notes on palm leaves. Those I had sent to Mayan. Perhaps that mad man would have some use for them. By the time I put on my battle dress, she had shut herself in her chamber. I called to her many times but she would not open the door. Finally, cursing her, I turned and walked towards my chariot. I heard her open the door and come running to me, calling my name piteously. I did not turn back. I was afraid to look at her face again. All my arrogance and false confidence would have melted, and I would have become just the average, middle-aged, pot-bellied, balding husband of a good and kind-hearted woman instead of the King of the Asuras. I knew that if I turned to look at her face, all my resolve would vanish and I would succumb and follow her bidding. I jumped into the chariot and barked to my charioteer to proceed.
As the fort gates opened and my army rushed forward to meet the Devas, I tried hard to suppress the melancholy feeling of a life wasted, of what could have been. I left behind a lonely woman who had suffered me and my antics silently for more than three and half decades; a woman who had sacrificed her children in a useless war started by her foolish husband because of his unbridled passion; a woman who had the courage to question the man the world feared. Tears welled in my eyes. I loved my wife more than anything in the world. I should have said good bye to her. Now it was too late. Rama was waiting.
I looked around and saw the glistening, sweating, bare, black bodies, bobbing around me. How many of them would return alive today? How many wives would be widowed by evening? How many of these poor souls would wet the red soil of Lanka with their blood? How many children would be made orphans? For whose sake were these fools fighting? How easy was it to fool these poor bastards. Far away on the beach, Rama’s army lay waiting. What were the monkey-men were fighting for? For the sake of some northern prince and his wife? None of those poor bastards had even seen Rama’s wife and they had no enmity with the Asuras. But they came, ready to die. Many among them would also leave their little ones orphaned or their parents without shelter.
Rama’s army erupted with loud shouts as we turned the corner and raced towards them. I had placed my elephants at the front. It was a gamble. Elephants were notoriously undependable. They could turn around and create a stampede among my men. But I did not have much choice. My ranks had dwindled and Varuna’s navy was pounding my forts with huge stones from the sea. I had positioned my flame-throwers strategically at the top of the low hills overlooking the beach. Because of the height, they were out of reach of Rama’s archers or Varuna’s catapults and could reach their targets much more accurately. They kept the Vanara army at bay and sunk many catamarans and boats with their flame-throwing. As my elephants thundered towards the Vanaras, I could sense a ripple of fear go through the enemy ranks. They tore through the feeble Vanara ranks, smashing and trampling many underfoot. The Asura army charged and the cavalry surrounded the Vanaras on three sides.
It had been a long time since I had led a battle from the front and I wondered if I had lost my touch. But the sight of Rama’s army panicking pumped the blood in my veins. Suddenly I was not an old and tired king nearing six decades of life, I was once again that sixteen-year-old, with passion and ambition burning in my veins. What was Rama after all but a mere hot-headed young man who had somehow arranged a hotchpotch of semi-civilized tribes to challenge the mightiest Emperor on earth. Today, I would ensure that he became an example to all those arrogant hot heads who thought they could ride rough over the Asura Emperor and get away safely to their homes.
I barked commands and runners were dispatched to all sides. With satisfaction, I saw that Rama was in real distress. His captains put up a brave yet futile fight. If I could get him and pierce that throat with a well aimed arrow, this foolish war would end. I asked my charioteer to drive through the left flank. Arrows fell thick and fast. It was dangerous but I was in a giddy mood. Anger and enthusiasm pumped through my veins and nothing could stop me from getting him. This would be the last time a Deva prince would dare to challenge an Asura king.
Suddenly I was swamped by men running in panic from the rear. I cried myself hoarse and asked them regroup. Rama had laid a trap. We had been ambushed from behind, with Vibhishana leading a cavalry charge from the city end, trying to put pressure on my rear. I sent runners to the hilltop to command them to aim the fire at the rear of our formation. The firing could catch some of my own people, but that was inevitable. We were being trapped between the retreating, yet fiercely fighting Vanaras from the sea, and Vibhishana’s army from the land. I divided my cavalry and ordered a group to engage Vibhishana. This relieved the pressure from the rear. I rued the fact that I had lost all my experienced commanders. I had underestimated Rama. I should have taken the war to the Vanara country the moment Hanuman came and burnt down my capital. But we had been too complacent. Had I done that earlier, we could have smashed the Vanaras and taken Rama prisoner. Instead, he was leading the war against my empire and I was struggling to contain him. Today, I would finish him.
Both armies fought with desperation and courage. Heroes and martyrs were created ever
y minute. Soon, Lankini’s Asura army attacked our position on top of the hills. Wave upon wave of her soldiers attacked my soldiers on the hilltop. I sensed danger. We were outnumbered six to one. It meant that we had to kill six enemy soldiers for each of our soldier being killed, just to keep our position. The other way was to capture or kill the enemy commander. But I could not see where Rama was. Hanuman was commanding and leading from the front. I looked for Rama and Lakshmana, but could not find them at all. The battle raged on with no clear victory for either side.
It was almost three in the afternoon and both sides had lost many men. My ranks had dwindled, though the civilian and untrained population of my city had joined my ranks with whatever they could lay their hands on. They were no match for the highly trained Vanara warriors, but from a distance, I was sure that my civilians looked menacing to the Vanaras. It was also good for our morale and bad news for the enemy, as they could not see any dwindling of the Asura ranks. But I had no doubt that this situation could not go on forever. Already two or three hilltops had been captured by Lankini’s soldiers and they were now training their fire on us. Our elephants had managed to smash the enemy lines and tear off portions of the bridge. Many of Varuna’s boats had been captured by my enthusiastic troops and we opened another front from the sea. The battle hung in precarious balance.
Time was running out. Dark clouds formed in the western sky and the sea was getting choppy. Varuna’s vessels bobbed up and down in the rough sea. The elephants were getting restless and I was afraid that at any moment things would change for the worse. I had to do something daring and dramatic. ‘But where was Rama and Lakshmana?’ My best chance would be to lead a surprise attack towards the Deva prince and capture or kill him. Like him, I too was well hidden from enemy eyes. As a part of the deception, more than seven chariots flew the royal Asura flag to confuse the enemy as to which was my chariot. I became desperate. My age was catching up with me. A few arrows had struck me and I was exhausted from the bleeding.
As the first bolts of lightning hit the sea, I saw them. They were near the bridge. They were urging the Vanaras to rebuild it. Hanuman had lit a huge wall of fire that kept the elephants at bay. As the wind shifted and flame wall moved, I saw Varuna’s master vessel moving towards the bridge. With horror I saw reinforcements arriving to help Rama. Horses were being lowered and warriors slid down the ropes towards the bridge. Our men directed their arrows towards the slithering Vanara warriors but the enemy numbers were growing quickly. To my rear, Vibhishana was butchering my civilian fighters and advancing. My time was running out. Unless I killed Rama before I got totally swamped, everything would be finished.
I assembled my best fighters and formed a rapid action team. I told them the plan and was annoyed to see the look of fear in their eyes. The plan required extreme daring in its execution. But I explained that the situation was desperate and without waiting for their confirmation, I jumped out of my chariot with my favourite sword in my hand. I unshackled my favourite horse. My charioteer was in tears and I hugged him. He collapsed weeping like an old woman at my feet. Ignoring him, I jumped onto my horse and raised my Chandrahasa to the darkening skies and bellowed, “Har Har Mahadev”.
All around me the war cry echoed from a hundred tongues. Lightning struck here and there as massive waves smashed the boulders on the beach. It was almost dark and rain fell in huge drops. I galloped towards the wall of flame, past the slain soldiers lying on the wet ground, past the writhing men with torn limbs, over the dying men, past pools of blood and trampled flesh, I galloped towards Rama. My men thundered behind me. Blood pounded in my ears. I could feel the reins tremble. My horse frothed from it’s nose but I egged it on. Faster and faster I galloped, ignoring the odd arrows that struck my thighs or biceps. I could feel the heat and my horse hesitated, but I kicked her into galloping faster. With one mighty swoop she jumped through the wall of fire towards Rama. My men followed me and we landed in front of the terrified Vanaras. My hair and the mane of my horse had caught fire and I could see the terror my figure had struck.
I could see his eyes. Even at that moment, my feelings were of surprise. ‘How dark skinned he was.’ He staggered back with a look of absolute terror. As I raised my sword to thrust it through his heart, Hanuman jumped up and grabbed my legs. I lost my balance and fell from my horse. I kicked at the monkey-man’s face. With a grunt he fell into the sea. I scrambled up and hacked my way towards Rama and Lakshmana. They were shooting arrows indiscriminately and had hit some of their own soldiers, though a few arrows managed to hit some of my troops also. We advanced faster towards the Deva princes, when the skies opened in a flood. Rain pounded down on all of us, making movements slippery and cumbersome. Gigantic waves crashed onto the bridge and carried away many men from both sides. A portion of the bridge collapsed, cutting off Rama and a few of his men from their main army. He was trapped. I just had to reach him. He was finished. With renewed vigor, we fought our way towards Rama.
That was the moment I thought the war was finished and I had won. Once again, with pluck and determination, I had managed to turn my luck. Many times in the past I had led my troops to victory from seemingly impossible positions. This was just one of those. In a few minutes Rama and Lakshmana would join my brother Kumbha in the deep sea. I could see fear on their faces. Their heavy bows were slipping from their hands as waves pounded the bridge and sprayed the fighting men with salt water. The wind howled and lightning cracked in the dark skies. Rama’s hands trembled and he was not able to aim accurately. Arrows whizzed past me, but in my frenzy I did not even bother about an accidental one striking me. I hacked my way towards my enemy. Countless Vanaras fell dead as the rain lashed us and the bridge shuddered. A few more men to slaughter and I could severe the head of Rama with my Chandrahasa. I relished the thought.
It was far too late to realize the fatal mistake I had made. In leaping across the firewall built by Hanuman, I had assumed that there was nothing to fear from my rear. In my rage against Rama, I had made a fundamental error of judgment. The torrential rain had managed to kill the fire and now my rear lay wide open to attack. I had forgotten my brother Vibhishana, who had been fighting his way towards me. With no fire to stop him, he had stealthily reached me. It was only when his sword thrust deep into my back that I realized my folly.
I turned and tried to attack him with my sword, but he ducked and I lost my balance. He kicked me and I almost fel
l into the raging sea. I recovered my balance but blood poured from the wound he had inflicted. My hands went numb. The heavy armour I wore pulled me down. Rama and Lakshmana, seized the opportunity to shower me with arrows. But the arrows bounced off my armour and could not penetrate it. I did not have any time to lose. I was about to pass out. I had to get to Rama before I became too weak. I kicked Vibhishana and he fell into the sea. As I rushed towards Rama with my sword held high, Vibhishana somehow scrambled back on the bridge. I did not notice it. My mind was totally focused on Rama. As I leapt forward, Vibhishana’s sword once again fell on my back. The sword missed my body by an inch but severed the knots that held my armour tight against my body. Instinctively I turned back and kicked Vibhishana. He vanished into the raging, swirling sea water. As I turned again to face Rama, my armour fell and I stood exposed to my enemy’s arrows.
Rama seized the opportunity and aimed at my abdomen. I did not want to give up but the blood dripping from my body made my head spin. My steps faltered and my advance became painfully slow. When arrow upon arrow pierced my guts, my only thought was of open defiance. With each painful step, another bout of arrows ripped my bare body. Slowly, I fell and the last thing I remembered was being swallowed by a dark green wave. Then my world went blank.
When I opened my eyes, there was a deathly silence. The earth was dark and cold. Some men were standing around me, but I could not see their faces. Then a tall, dark figure came and stood near my head. ‘Rama. . .’ I wanted to grab him by his throat but the earth held me firm. She was about
to reclaim my body. Rama mumbled something in Sanskrit, something about finding a place in heaven. I wanted to burst out laughing. In mock obeisance, I brought my palms together. The last thought before I passed out again was that the fool had believed I was doing obeisance to him. My macabre joke had been lost on him. Men and their blasted egos!
61 Victors and their ways
Bhadra
Today is his funeral. It was late afternoon and I stood amidst the crowd, dozing in the humid heat. There was a lingering sadness and terror in the air. The conquering armies had entered the city last night. The Vanaras had pillaged, raped, and looted the way through the city. Most people had fled to the jungles while some had bravely tried to defend their small possessions. Others surrendered to the ravaging Vanara army but they were in no mood to take prisoners. The fools who expected mercy were cut down mercilessly. The granaries were torched and the temples looted. Ravana’s impressive palace was almost pulled down, but Vibhishana intervened and ensured that everyone inside the fort was safe. So once again the nobles saved their skins and possessions. The Vanara plunderers were let loose on the hapless common folk of Lanka.
By mid-morning, a semblance of order had come and many poor Asuras were captured from the surrounding jungles by the Vanara soldiers and brought forcefully back to the city. Last night I had sneaked into the beach to foray for any valuables left by the slain soldiers. It was risky, but it was easy money. Besides, it was a safe place to be. It would have been the last place they would have expected an Asura to be. Two or three other men like me scavenged for valuables among the dead or gravely injured, but we kept a discreet distance from each other.
It was then that I stumbled upon the Emperor himself. In the dull glow of a moonless night, I recognized my King and master. He was breathing heavily and writhing in pain. Jackals were eating him alive. It was the shimmer of gold from his bracelets that had attracted me to him. I was not sure initially, but as I leaned to have a look, he emitted a grunt. ‘How the mighty had fallen.’ This man had fought for a race and a people who had lost their dignity, their freedom, their values, and their culture, to foreigners who had invaded and conquered them. Ravana gave the Asuras dignity and self-belief, instilled confidence and pride in our ancient culture and took our civilization to new heights of glory. Yes, he may have been a tyrant. He had destroyed the democratic and egalitarian society of the Asuras and made it into a mean fighting machine. Yes, he wallowed in luxury and did whatever he pleased. The society he had created was not perfect. The majority of us remained poor. Yet we knew that hard work and luck could make us rich and powerful. There were no congenital, privileged castes such as the Brahmins were among the Devas. Despite our crushing poverty and the seething anger we felt for the rich and privileged, we enjoyed one luxury compared to our counterparts in the Deva kingdoms – we were treated like human beings. Most of us were poor, but there was a silent dignity in our poverty. But as I leaned over my fallen King, I did not know any of this. It was later, much later that these things became clear to me. But by then it was too late.
Asura- Tale of the Vanquished Page 46