As he entered the lavish palace of Rāvana and made his way to the king’s private apartments, passing throngs of beautiful women and gaily decorated elephants, he heard the bards wishing their ruler victory in battle. Vibhīshana approached his brother with reverence, winning him over with kind and deferential words, and took his seat humbly where Rāvana indicated with his eyes.
When the moment was right, Vibhīshana said quietly, “There is something that your ministers are afraid to tell you, yet everyone in this city knows it but you. Ever since you brought Sītā here by force, there have been ill omens. Sacred fires smoke and fizzle; crows gather in the hundreds; elephants and horses, refusing their food, grow thin and lackluster; and jackals howl. The way to reverse this ominous trend is to return Sītā to Rāma. It is my duty to tell you what is happening. Now it is for you to decide.”
Rāvana stirred in his seat, his eyes darkening with anger. “I see no danger here. Rāma will never rescue Sītā. Away with you!” he roared.
After Vibhīshana’s departure, the demon king sank into a reverie. After some time, he decided again to call the leaders of Lankā together for a meeting. As his chariot rolled toward the royal hall, multitudes of rākshasas lined the way to greet their king. They blew conches and beat drums. Dozens of chariots, drawn by prancing steeds, followed him.
Once seated on his golden throne inlaid with lapis lazuli, Rāvana said, “I have called you here once more because my brother, the brave and immeasurably strong Kumbhakarna, has joined the assembly at my request.”
Kumbhakarna needed no introduction. A giant who towered three stories high, he had to enter the great hall on his knees. Immensely powerful, he could crush hundreds of men in his mammoth fingers. So destructive was he that Brahmā cursed him to sleep most of his life away, in order to stop him from destroying innocent people in his path.
Turning to face Kumbhakarna, who took up most of the space in the great hall, Rāvana said, “As you know, I have carried Sītā, the wife of Rāma, to this fair city. I am love-struck with her. There is no other woman as beautiful, graceful, or sweet-tempered on earth. My desire is like a flame that burns me day and night. Plunged in turmoil, my days are filled with suffering, for she refuses to come to my bed. I have given her a year, out of my love for her, but now Rāma has marched to the sea and threatens to cross it. I need you to help me stop his advance and keep Sītā.”
Kumbhakarna clearly felt irritated by his brother’s weakness. “You are asking for advice too late. The time to stop the river from flowing into the ocean is when it’s still on the mountain. You should have consulted your ministers before you stole Sītā. At that point there was still time to avoid calamity. As it is, you have acted recklessly and attracted enemies.
“But do not worry, I will save you from this disaster. I will fight these monkeys and tear them with my teeth. Rāma does not have a chance against me. I will drink his blood and then Sītā will be yours.”
No one spoke for a while, because Rāvana was visibly angered by Kumbhakarna’s rebuke. Finally the valiant Mahāpārshva said, “Why not take Sītā by force? The one who is in the beehive and does not drink the honey is surely a fool. Once you satisfy your desire, you will surely vanquish Rāma with your prowess.”
Rāvana shook his ten heads. “I have to tell you a secret. I cannot take Sītā or any woman by force, due to a curse laid on me by Lord Brahmā. Once I ravished his granddaughter, and he divined it. He threatened to blow my ten heads into a thousand bits if I ever took another woman against her will. Otherwise, being mighty as the ocean and swift as the wind, I would have brought Sītā to my bed long ago. But no matter, just as I have conquered the Devas and celestials, I will destroy Rāma and his monkey army.”
Then the high-souled Vibhīshana stood up. The company stirred. Surely he would not dare anger the king again. “You attempt to embrace a deadly viper, my Lord. For Sītā is as dangerous to you as a serpent. Even with all your might, you and Kumbhakarna can no more vanquish Rāma than the clouds can vanquish the sky. Even the Devas stand in awe of the one who follows the way of Dharma.”
He turned and faced the ministers. “You say you are my brother’s friends, but you act as his enemies. If you want to act in his interests, restrain him from this vile deed even if you have to drag him from the hall by the hair. The path you advise is the path of destruction for us all. Persuade him to return Sītā; it is the only way to save this city and all who are dear.”
Angered by his uncle’s words, Indrajit burst out, “How dare you speak to my father this way? Are you such a coward that you think we will fall before those weakling princes? Have I not captured and bound Indra himself and sent the Devas running? Ho! There is nothing to fear in a mere mortal.”
Vibhīshana, who was himself a valiant warrior, superior even to Indrajit, responded again with wisdom and candor. “You speak the words of a child who is unable to fathom the danger that approaches. Using your power as my brother’s favorite son, you boost his ego and lead him to destruction. You are speaking childish nonsense and should never have been allowed to join in this discussion. Neither you, nor I, nor Rāvana, nor anyone here can withstand the arrows of Rāma. Let us give back Sītā with gifts of gold and jewels, and live our lives in peace.”
Unable to control his rage any longer, Rāvana shouted at Vibhīshana, “It is true of all species that their worst enemy is their own kinsman. You are jealous of my success, and now you wish to disgrace me. If anyone else had spoken such treasonous words, they would now be dead!”
At these harsh and unjust words, Vibhīshana sprang into the air, mace in hand. Floating high above the assembly with his four trusted ministers surrounding him, his words echoed around the hall. “I can no longer stay in your presence, my brother, for you do not follow the path of Dharma. When I try to help you, you only return my love with harsh and unjust words. Be well, fortify your city, and fight bravely. Do not worry, I will no longer plague you with unwanted advice. They say that those who are doomed do not accept the advice of their loved ones. Now I know this to be true.”
With that, Vibhīshana left the rākshasas and flew across the ocean to the sandy shore where Rāma was camped.
They say the finest messenger completes a difficult task
with dedication, exactly as the king asks—and then does more.
—Yuddha Kānda 1.7
CHAPTER 41
Rāma Offers Protection to Vibhīshana
To be true to Dharma,
to be kind,
to be a knower of truth,
you must give shelter
to one who begs for mercy—
even your own enemy.
Protect him
with all your power,
even with your life.
If you do not show mercy,
but allow the one to die
who has thrown himself
at your feet,
then with death he takes
all your good deeds,
leaving behind only
a stony heart.
Thus will I welcome Vibhīshana,
thus would I welcome even Rāvana,
thus do I welcome all
who seek refuge in me.
As Sugrīva and his guards surveyed the sea for signs of the enemy, they saw a strange light crossing the ocean. “Look out!” the guards shouted, sounding the alarm just as Vibhīshana and his ministers flew into view. “These rākshasas are armed with every weapon. Give us the command and we will destroy them.” To arm themselves, the monkeys grabbed boulders, uprooted trees, and driftwood logs to brandish as clubs.
Vibhīshana calmly floated in the sky above the sand. That intelligent and pure-hearted warrior said to Sugrīva, “I am Vibhīshana, brother of King Rāvana. I have advised Rāvana to abandon his evil path and return the lady Sītā to her husband. He has answered my well-con
sidered counsel with insults and threats. Thus I have given up my home and family to come here. Please tell Rāma that I seek safety with him.”
Sugrīva quickly brought the news to Rāma. “Vibhīshana has surely come here to spy on us,” he said, his voice agitated and shrill. “These rākshasas will use any disguise or trick to undo us. You will know what is best to do, but remember that he is the brother of Rāvana. We should destroy him before he destroys us.”
Rāma thanked Sugrīva courteously and turned to the monkey ministers who surrounded him. “A good king always asks the advice of his counselors. So now I ask each of you, my well-wishers, to speak. Offer me your honest thoughts about what course we should take with Vibhīshana.”
Everyone smiled, their hearts filled with love for Rāma. They recognized that he knew everything and had no need to ask their advice, yet he consulted them to show courtesy and love, as well as respect for the Vedic principles of enlightened rulership.
Angada spoke first. “Having come from the enemy side, he may have hidden intentions. Why not give him a test, to ascertain his true mind, before we accept and trust him?”
“Let us assign our spies to find out what Vibhīshana truly wants,” said the monkey commander Sharabha. “Then we can decide what to do.”
Jāmbavān, the revered elder leader of the bears, spoke next. “This Vibhīshana is to be suspected on all counts, for he is the brother of the evil Rāvana, and he comes at the wrong time and place.”
Another learned leader, Mainda, said, “Let’s question him in a friendly way to see what he is really thinking.”
Finally, when all had spoken, Hanumān addressed Rāma in his simple and logical way. “You are the most learned and wise judge in the three worlds. I am offering my advice now, not because I want to argue with the others, but because your courtesy and kindness inspire me to reveal my feelings.
“It seems to me that there are flaws in the suggestions that have been offered. To test his abilities and sincerity would take time, which we cannot afford. To send a spy would not be right, because the circumstances do not require a secret investigation. By our questioning him, he would only become suspicious, and we may lose a true friend. Further, it is not even possible to learn a person’s inner intentions just by questioning him.
“It was said that he came here at the wrong time and place, but I feel the opposite. He did right in coming here tonight, considering that the evil Rāvana is bent on destruction and that you are all-powerful. I noticed that when he spoke, there was no dishonesty or shadow on his face. Someone with hidden designs could not behave so freely and naturally. These are my thoughts, and now I leave it to you to decide for yourself.”
Rāma smiled, for Hanumān had once again distinguished himself as an astute judge and brilliant speaker. With a tranquil mind Rāma addressed the entire group. “I know that every one of you has my interests at heart, so listen to my thoughts now. I cannot turn away someone who calls himself my friend, even if he hides evil intentions. The compassionate would not look upon me with favor if I refused to give help to a friend.”
Sugrīva repeated his doubts even more strongly than before. “But this rākshasa, whether he has good thoughts or bad, has deserted his own brother, who is in grave danger. Whom else will he desert?”
Rāma nodded. “You reveal your deep understanding with this remark.” He glanced at his dearly loved brother Lakshmana and said, “Yet not all brothers are like Bharata, not all sons treat their fathers as I did, and for that matter, not all friends are like you, Sugrīva. A king has only two enemies: his kinsmen and his neighboring monarchs. We are not his kinsmen, and he does not seek to gain our kingdom. Also, from the way he spoke, it seems he fears for his life. He has already helped us by coming here, because his defection will create division among the rākshasas.”
Still Sugrīva persisted. “Once welcomed, this brother of Rāvana will strike you, or me or Lakshmana. We must kill him now before he kills us.”
“What can this rākshasa do to me, even if he is evil?” said Rāma. “If I wish, I can destroy him and the entire rākshasa army with my little finger. He has come here seeking safety; it is my Dharma to welcome him as a guest. Bring him here, give him this message from me: ‘I am yours. I will defend you and anyone who comes here seeking my mercy.’”
At these words, Sugrīva finally dropped his objection and bowed to Rāma. “There is no one as compassionate as you. Concerned only with the happiness of others, adhering always to Dharma, you do only good in this world. In my heart I see now that Vibhīshana is an honest being. Let us bring him here as our ally and friend.”
When Vibhīshana was brought before Rāma, he sank to his knees in gratitude. “I have abandoned my family and all that I love to take refuge in you. My hopes, my dreams, my life I place in your hands.”
Rāma gazed at the high-souled Vibhīshana with love and affection. Then he asked, “Can you tell me the strengths and weaknesses of Lankā?”
Without hesitation Vibhīshana told Rāma how Indrajit possessed the power of invisibility, how Kumbhakarna’s strength equaled Indra’s, how the hundred thousand rākshasas in Rāvana’s army were capable of taking any form they chose.
At the end of this report, Rāma said, “Hear my vow. I swear by my three brothers that I will destroy Rāvana, his sons, and his kinsmen in battle, or I will never return to Ayodhyā.”
Vibhīshana gravely bowed his head and said, “I will assist you with all my strength to conquer the army of Rāvana and restore your beloved Sītā to you.”
Embracing the high-souled Vibhīshana, Rāma joyfully said to Lakshmana, “Dear brother, take an urn and fill it with water from the sea. We will crown this wise leader king of Lankā today.”
As the monkeys shouted, “Huzzah, huzzah!” the magnanimous Rama sprinkled the sacred seawater on Vibhīshana’s head, anointing him king of the rākshasas.
After the cheering subsided, Hanumān and Sugrīva questioned Vibhīshana. “Do you know how we can cross this wide ocean with our entire army?”
“This ocean was hollowed out by the ancestors of Rāma,” said Vibhīshana. “If Rāma appeals to Sāgara, the lord of the ocean, he will help him make the crossing.”
When Rāma heard this suggestion, he said to Lakshmana, “Consult with Sugrīva and, between yourselves, advise me how I should proceed.” Then he continued his conversation with Vibhīshana, asking him penetrating questions about the fortifications inside Lankā.
As Rāma and Vibhīshana talked, far above them flew one of Rāvana’s spies, Shārdūla. He scanned the impressive expanse of Rāma’s army, spread along the shore like golden floodwaters from the sea, and quickly flew back to Rāvana to report.
“Rāma’s colossal army extends ten yojanas in every direction,” Shārdūla told Rāvana. “My advice is to send more spies. As I see it, you have three choices: return Sītā, make a treaty with the foe, or try to divide them with discord.”
Rāvana, who was lovesick for Sītā, decided on the last choice. He sent his minister Shuka to gather more information about the army and to try to win over Sugrīva.
Shuka, who was versed in the magical arts, took the form of a bird, crossed the ocean, and swooped over Rāma’s army. Hovering above Sugrīva, he called down, “Rāvana considers you as his brother. What is it to you if Rāvana has stolen Rāma’s wife? Why risk your army and your kingdom to fight one who has never been vanquished, even by the Devas? Go home and live happily.”
“Rāvana is not my brother,” Sugrīva answered, “nor has he ever helped me. Through his evil deeds he has wronged my friend Rāma, and I will destroy him, his sons, and his kingdom. Rāvana has no inkling of the power and greatness of Rāma and Lakshmana.”
Then Sugrīva’s monkey generals leapt into the air, seized Shuka by the legs, and spun him in a circle until his feathers began to fall off. They flung him to the earth.
�
�Save me, O Rāma!” cried out Shuka. “Tell them it is wrong to kill a messenger. If I die, the results of my bad deeds will pass to you.”
Rāma heard Shuka cry out. He commanded, “Spare his life and capture him alive, for he came as a messenger. We can release him when we reach Lankā.” Thus the monkeys took him into captivity as Rāma instructed, before night fell on Rāma’s army as they camped by the sea.
I swear by my three brothers that I will destroy Rāvana,
his sons, and his kinsmen in battle, or I will never return to Ayodhyā.
—Yuddha Kānda 19.21
CHAPTER 42
Rāma’s Army Reaches Lankā
WHILE RĀMA’S ARMY camped by the sea, only one thought filled his mind: how to cross the waves and reach Sītā. He decided to take Vibhīshana’s advice and ask the lord of the ocean for help. To win the favor of the sea, he carefully spread a mat of sacred kusha grass on the shore. Sitting on the mat facing east, he folded his hands in a gesture of reverence. Then he closed his eyes and sat perfectly still on the grass mat for three days and three nights, patiently waiting for Sāgara, lord of the ocean, to appear.
But the ocean did not respond to Rāma’s silent request, even though Rāma had shown all respect.
By the end of the third day, Rāma said to Lakshmana, “I have offered all good qualities to Sāgara—tranquility, patience, sweetness—but this arrogant lord of the ocean apparently thinks these are signs of weakness. It seems impossible to win victory in this world through peaceful means, but only through force, as on the battlefield. Therefore I will churn the ocean and dry up the sea. Bring me my bow, dear Lakshmana.”
Lakshmana did as he was asked, and then Rāma faced the sea, drew his bow, and shot fiery arrows into the waters. His eyes blazed red with anger. The sea roiled and churned, smoking with the heat of Rāma’s arrows. Whales and fish by the thousands floated belly-up, and the ocean rose in giant waves.
The Ramayana Page 31