With a sense of great relief, Angad saw Lakshman release Rama’s arm. Rama lowered the Bow and it vanished at once, along with the Arrow. They hurried over to where the bear stood, taking care not to be seen by the rampaging giant. The air was filled with dust from the many places Kumbhakarna had trampled already.
‘Come, my lords,’ Kambunara said, ‘I will take you to Jambavan. He is in a part of the city directly in the giant’s path, so we must be careful. I know a way that will keep us from his sights, but it is infested with the enemy.’
‘Wait,’ Angad said, as the bear turned to lead them down the street. ‘Why did Jambavan not come here with you? Wouldn’t that be easier than taking us all to him?’
Kambunara regarded him sadly, swiping with the back of his paw at the light coating of dust on his snout, and sniffing. ‘He is dying, young vanar. That is why he cannot come himself. He is dying and wishes to share his last thoughts with Rama before he goes to meet his ancestors in the last cave.’
The sound of the giant’s work was deafeningly loud in the quarter of the city where Jambavan lay. The bear lord was leaning back on a slab of stone that appeared to have once been part of a roof, or the floor of a higher level in some structure that was now destroyed. It was difficult to tell which one, for virtually every building in this street had been crushed either partly or wholly by the rampaging giant. Dust was everywhere, as well as the stench of the giant’s effusions, and Angad winced as he passed a house where several bears had evidently taken refuge. The structure was completely demolished, the debris stained pink with the blood of the unfortunate bears. He glanced up at the shadow of Kumbhakarna, cast in sharp relief against the setting sun, and prayed that he was not given such a death. When and if he went, he wished to do so fighting hand-to-hand to the bitter end.
Jambavan had fought to the bitter end as well, judging from the numerous wounds and arrows on the bear’s body. Angad counted over two dozen arrows before he gave up, and the sword and blade wounds were at least double that number. He thought it incredible that the bear lord was still alive and breathing.
‘Rama,’ Jambavan said with genuine warmth and pleasure. ‘My son, my eyes have thirsted for the sight of your handsome face. And yours, my son Lakshman.’
‘My friend,’ Rama said sombrely. ‘What can I do to make you more comfortable?’
Jambavan managed a grin, revealing bloody teeth with more than one gap between them. ‘You can get me a basket full of river fish, so fresh they’re still jumping out of the basket to escape!’
Everyone grinned at that. ‘Apart from that,’ Rama asked, taking the bear’s paw in his hand.
‘Apart from that, he says,’ Jambavan chuckled, then turned his head, coughed, and spat out a gob of blood. ‘I’d settle for honey then, but you won’t find that either, not in this hellhole of a city. Rakshasas hate sweet foods almost as much as they love mortalflesh. Roasted, mind you, with a seasoning of their traditional spices.’
Angad saw Kambunara shoot Jambavan a stern glance.
Jambavan sighed. ‘But I’m rambling as usual. It’s hard for an old bear to change his fur at this age, my friends. But I shall try to come to the point more directly. I see that you have a situation here.’
‘That we do,’ Rama acknowledged. ‘Vibhisena has just told us that even my celestial Bow and Arrow cannot bring down the giant, yet I wish to try. What other choice do we have?’
‘Choice?’ The bear king coughed and spat again. ‘There is always a choice. But you will not need to resort to desperate measures. Hanuman will deal with that jumping jackass out there. No, don’t fret about him—not unless he chooses to stomp on this very house right now! Now that would be a nice turn-up, wouldn’t it?’ He laughed his rumbling bear laugh, grimaced sharply in acute pain, then subsided at once. ‘But that isn’t what I wished to say to you either. The reason I called you here was to say that you must forgive Sita.’
Rama stared at him silently.
Jambavan leaned closer, putting his blood-smirched snout almost on top of Rama’s own nose and repeated his words more loudly. ‘I said, you must forgive—’
‘There is nothing to forgive,’ Rama said, frowning.
Jambavan sighed. ‘There is always something to forgive, between lovers. But in this case, you are right. There is nothing to forgive—except what you imagine! Either way, forgive her. Love her unconditionally, and be glad you have her back. It is a treasure devoutly to be desired and few ever possess it, or, having lost it, regain it again.’
Angad had no idea what that meant, but even he could not fail to miss the obvious. ‘My lord Jambavan,’ he said, ‘pardon my interrupting, but perhaps you have not heard yet … Our lady Sita … She was … ’
‘She is alive and well,’ Jambavan said quietly, his small dark eyes twinkling at Angad. ‘She is kept in a cave that is not a cave deep within the mountain below the temple of Shiva. What is the mountain called, brother Vibhisena?’
‘Nikumbhila,’ said the stunned rakshasa. ‘But when you say she is alive, how—’ Then he stopped short. ‘More sorcery?’
Jambavan shook his head. ‘No. The execution was real. Except the victim was not Sita. It was a shape-shifting yaksirakshasi cross-breed named … ’ He waved a paw with three arrows sticking out of it. ‘I can never recall names.’
‘Supanakha,’ Lakshman said at once. ‘Of course!’
From outside came a great crashing and splintering, but this one sounded farther away. In confirmation, one of Angad’s vanars called out, ‘The giant has moved away! It is safe to go out now.’ Angad made a be-quiet gesture at the vanar, but the rest of the group paid the cry no heed. He looked at Rama’s face. There was such an utter absence of emotion visible on it, it put him in mind of the demonic fighting machine he had seen earlier. He swallowed nervously. Rama’s anger was a rakshasa to be dreaded in its own right.
‘You know this for a certainty, how?’ Rama asked in a voice so completely without inflection or tone that the absence itself suggested an emotional level too great to express.
Jambavan shrugged. ‘We are the ancient ones, we know more than we are supposed to. Just as I know that Hanuman will return and take care of your giant pain in the foot out there. But you must remember what I said to you, Rama. Trust her! No matter what turmoil rages in your mind, believe her. She loves only you, and you alone. Never doubt that for even an instant.’
Rama was silent for a moment, then abruptly he hugged the bear king fiercely. Jambavan hugged him back, but his eyes had glazed over, and Angad could see that the great being’s strength was failing fast, now that he had finished speaking what he had desired to say.
‘Enough, enough,’ coughed the bear. ‘If you wish to push my arrows inside my wounds, at least add some new ones!’
Rama let go of him at once. Jambavan laughed. ‘I was only jesting,’ he said. Then fell into a coughing fit. ‘Only … jest … ’ He could not finish.
From outside, a great din resounded. A cloud of dust puffed into the ruins in which they were clustered, obscuring their vision for several moments. When the fog cleared, Jambavan’s eyes were shut and he was no longer breathing.
Rama cried out and hugged the bear again, tears spilling from his eyes. But barely had he begun weeping than a noise like boulders crashing on each other came from outside the ruined house.
‘Rama,’ came a great voice from everywhere at once.
Rama rose up to his feet. ‘I know that voice.’
He looked at the bear king once again and then bent and kissed Jambavan on his furred brow affectionately. ‘I will return, my friend.’ And he went outside, followed by the rest of them.
FOURTEEN
Rama came outside the house to find a giant face staring down at him. His followers reared back at once, exclaiming. But he stood his ground. For he had recognised the voice of Hanuman the instant the vanar had spoken. He glanced around briefly, making sure that Kumbhakarna was not in the vicinity—but the lookout had spoken truly
, and the giant was visible in the distance, several miles away, wreaking havoc in another section of the city. Until he noticed Hanuman’s presence here, they would be safe for a brief while.
Then he gazed up at the mile-high figure of his beloved friend and champion. He was not surprised to see the vanar in this expanded form, but what did surprise him were the two objects Hanuman bore upon his shoulders: two enormous mounds of earth, each several hundred yards high. Rama had no doubt that where they had stood originally, before Hanuman uprooted them, they would have been far higher, veritable mountains each. He could see the roots of trees and bushes and dark soil on the underside of each one, testifying to the strength which was required to uproot them from their original resting place. Hanuman bore them on his shoulders as easily as skins of water.
‘Rama,’ said the vanar, smiling at the sight of his favourite mortal. ‘Forgive my inability to greet you and Lakshmanji appropriately. As you can see, I am somewhat burdened.’
Sugreeva swore a vanar phrase. ‘How on earth … ? Are those truly what I think they are?’
‘The mountains Candra and Drona,’ said Hanuman. ‘With the herbs of revival that Plaksa spoke of. I could not make out the herbs themselves and had already wasted enough time in the search, so I simply brought both the mountains here. You may take what we require and I shall return the mountains to their original resting place later.’
‘But how did you accomplish this, my friend? And why are you not surprised to see Lakshman and myself already revived? I suspect that you have learned much even while away.’
‘That I have,’ rumbled the vanar. ‘For Jambavan has been my guide as before, speaking to me in my mind and showing me the secret way between worlds. That is how I flew from this mortal realm to the heavenly worlds, and found the ocean of milk where these mountains rested. That is also how I learned of your happy revival at the behest of Garuda, lord of birds.’ He paused. ‘But I will have to relate my adventures later, Rama.
For right now I believe there is yet another rakshasa who wishes to challenge me.’
And he bent his knees and leaped upwards, flying like an arrow straight up. A fraction of an instant later, rushing through the space Hanuman had just vacated, came the giant Kumbhakarna. The rakshasa raged with fury at having missed his opponent, then looked down and saw Rama and his companions. At once, he roared and stamped down angrily. Rama leaped back, but he already knew he would not be fast enough. The giant’s foot rose and fell with the speed of a hammer striking an anvil. The ruined street suddenly went dark as all light was blocked out, and Rama cried out at the thought of all his followers crushed together.
But when the sole of the giant’s stinking foot was merely a foot or two from crushing Rama’s head, it stopped suddenly, then rose back upwards once again—and kept on rising!
As the foot grew smaller, Rama saw that Hanuman had leaped down again just in time, grasped the giant rakshasa and was lifting him back into the sky. Because Hanuman was still carrying both mountains, he had no choice but to use his feet to pick up Kumbhakarna. The rakshasa’s face reflected his shock at encountering someone as large as himself—for Hanuman had expanded himself further in those few moments when he had flown upwards and returned, making himself the size of the rakshasa. And he was still continuing to grow.
‘Rama,’ Hanuman shouted in a booming voice as he rose up into the sky. ‘I will place the mountains outside the gates of Lanka, to avoid crushing any of our warriors. You must send Plaksa there at once to find the herbs of revival. I will deal with this beggar in the meanwhile.’
And he flew up and then at an angle, and was lost behind the slanting debris of a demolished house. Rama turned at once to his companions. ‘Angad, you are entrusted with this task. Find Plaksa and take him at once to the mountains. Once he finds the herbs, bring them here right away. I will stand guard in this spot to ensure that no Lankan forces attack this house.’
Angad stared at him, puzzled. ‘But Rama, you and Lakshman are already revived. Why do you still require the herbs?’
Lakshman clapped the vanar on the back, hard, admonishing him playfully. ‘For our good friend Jambavan, young prince. Now, less talk and more walk! Go! Do as you are told!’
Angad went.
***
The giant struggled to break free of Hanuman’s grip, but the vanar kept his feet tightly clenched together. Flying with two mountains upon his shoulders while carrying aloft a giant rakshasa of epic proportions was not exactly the easiest thing he had ever done, but he knew that if he dropped any one of the three, he would certainly kill a goodly number of his own comrades; even the fact that he would demolish half of Lanka at the same time was not enough to balance out that cost. So he focussed his energies on flying straight and true and keeping himself as well as his three burdens aloft. He passed ruined areas crushed by the giant’s rampage, and noted that the corpses of rakshasas as well as vanars and bears lay in the wreckage. What arrogance! To slay one’s own warriors along with the enemy! What use was a weapon so large that one could not control it or direct it accurately?
Then he was past the city and over open country. Still he continued. For he knew that once he set this giant fool down, he would need all the room he could spare. He wondered if he ought to take Kumbhakarna back to the mainland, where there was little chance of running out of space, but he did not think he could maintain his threefold burden that far. He looked down at the part of the island they were flying over now: it was the central section of rolling hills and ghats and valleys. Would this do? But only a short run would take the rakshasa back to Lanka and that was something he could not chance.
Finally, he hit upon the only practical option.
He flew out over the ocean. Kumbhakarna roared his indignation as the rolling hills of Lanka fell behind them and pristine blue water appeared below. He intensified his struggles until Hanuman knew that he could not hold on much longer. The realisation had finally penetrated the rakshasa’s dense skull that he stood to lose less by falling than by allowing himself to be carried farther away. He seemed to hate the water, judging by the way he struggled frantically.
‘Or, judging by the way you stink,’ Hanuman said aloud, ‘maybe you fear bathing more than death!’
He was perhaps a hundred yojanas out at sea when he felt his grip on the giant’s shoulders giving way at last. He looked around. Nothing but open ocean was visible for as far as he could see in every direction. ‘This is as good a place as any,’ he mused aloud. And then rose up as high as he could before releasing his grip abruptly and letting the giant fall, howling, to land in the sea with a splash great enough to raise a small tidal wave for yojanas around. ‘Go ahead and start your bath, I’ll join you in a minute,’ he said cheerfully as he turned back towards Lanka, ‘Oh, and don’t forget to wash behind your ears!’
He flew back to Lanka at a much faster speed. By the time he reached the battlefield outside the gates of the city, he was pleased to see Angad and Plaksa already there, waiting. He set both mountains down on the centre of the field, joined his palms in a respectful namaskaram to the vanar guru, and said, ‘Forgive me for my haste, mahadev, but I have a rakshasa who needs my attention urgently. I pray you find the herbs you need quickly and that they are as efficacious as they’re believed to be.’
‘Bless you, Maruti Anjaneya,’ said the ancient vanar. ‘You have done what no being in the mortal plane has ever done before. Later, you must tell me how you accomplished this extraordinary task, that I may record it for posterity.’
‘I shall do so most happily, gurudev,’ Hanuman said. ‘Now, I take your leave.’ And without further formality, he shot upwards, feeling his body surge with the freedom of being released from the three enormous weights he had carried before, and zoomed back to the spot where he had left Kumbhakarna.
The giant was waiting. The ocean here was deep, but not deep enough to submerge the rakshasa completely. As Hanuman approached, he saw Kumbhakarna’s head, shoulders and the up
per part of his torso, up to the lowest of his ribs, visible above the surface. The gargantuan rakshasa roared as he saw Hanuman approaching in the sky. He shook his fists and opened his jaws, bellowing a challenge.
Hanuman responded by flying straight at him, and crashing into the giant’s chest at a speed so great that the air around them both boomed with a resounding thunder loud enough to set off a ripple in the ocean waters and be heard all the way back in Lanka.
***
Angad heard the booming crack of sound and knew that it was caused by Hanuman. The vanar had joined battle with Kumbhakarna then. He clenched his fist, silently wishing his comrade strength and honour in the fight. Then he returned his attention to helping find the herbs that Plaksa was seeking. The ancient vanar had said that while the herbs were miraculous in their efficacy, if the subject had been dead more than a certain time they were of no use. For beyond a certain period of time the brain, lacking the air carried to it by the pumping of blood through the body, began to perish and rot. And once the brain rotted, reviving the body was pointless. So they had only a limited amount of time to find the herbs. According to the ageing guru, that meant doing so before the sun set completely.
Angad glanced over his shoulder at the horizon. From the top of the mountain he could see the sun already at the end of its journey, its rim touching the horizon. In only moments it would descend below that line and the time to save Jambavan would be past. How cruel it would be for Hanuman to have travelled all the way to swarga-lok and bring back these two legendary mountains, and then to lose Jambavan because they could not find the right herbs in time. No. He would not let that happen.
He searched desperately in the fading light.
***
Rama climbed the last few yards to the top of the ruined structure. After making sure that the delicately poised slab of roof was not likely to collapse under his weight, he straightened
RAMAYANA Part 3_PRINCE AT WAR Page 87