up and looked around. From here, he could see across most of Lanka, as well as the entire clearing below. The streets here were packed with vanars and bears. King Sugreeva and the other leaders had assembled as many of their forces as possible within this section of the city. The rest would be apprised of his words through the usual system.
‘My friends,’ he called out. ‘I have the best news of all. Sita is alive and well, but she is still Ravana’s captive. What we saw earlier was yet another deception of the lord of Lanka.’
Cheers rose raggedly from the weary army. He held up his hand. ‘But hear me out. For time is short and we are in enemy territory. Jambavan the bear lord lies stricken. Yet Hanuman has brought back the two mountains of magical herbs from the land of the devas, and the vanar Plaksa, aided by Angad and Nala, is searching for the herbs of revival. We have every confidence that they will find them and resurrect the lord of bears successfully within the hour. But we cannot stand by and wait. Hanuman has removed the giant Kumbhakarna from Lanka, leaving us free to battle the rakshasas on our own terms. Now is not the time to grieve for lost comrades or generals, nor is it the time to lick our wounds and rest, nor is it even the time to cease our struggles. Now is the time that will test our mettle to the utmost. It is time to crush the rakshasa menace once and for all, to free the lady Sita, and rid this land of the evil of Ravana and his sorcerous tricks for ever. And so I ask you, one and all, to join me in one last effort to claim Lanka and drive our enemies to the sea. Push them back until they have nowhere to go but water and fire.’ He pointed to the southernmost tip of the island, where the volcano rose smouldering beside the ocean. ‘All the way to the last yard of lava-scorched land. For only then can our war be over and dharma triumph. Give me this one last time your courage, your strength, and your warrior’s skills. In return, I will give you the victory of dharma over adharma!’
The roar that greeted the end of this speech filled the city of Lanka for miles around, echoing the booming thunder of Hanuman’s flight moments earlier.
Rama spoke the shloka of summoning and the Bow of Vishnu and the Arrow of Shiva appeared in his hand.
Raising the Bow, he aimed the Arrow directly at the most distant quarter of the city, the innermost sanctum of Ravana and the only area that his forces had not yet breached. He loosed the Arrow, and watched it fly blazing through the evening sky.
It landed in the inner city with a resounding clap of sound. A blinding white light exploded outwards in concentric circles, travelling back towards Rama. He shielded his eyes from the flash, and still felt the light searing the very core of his vision. When he opened his eyes again, one large section of the triple walls surrounding the inner circle lay in ruins. He pointed in that direction, and gave the order to charge. With a roar of fury, his army obeyed and surged forward.
FIFTEEN
Lanka was burning. Yet again.
Ravana looked out from the veranda and saw the flames engulfing the mansions of his ministers, generals, nobles and the richest merchants of the land. If Hanuman’s rampage had destroyed the poorer sections of the city-state, then Rama’s arrows were ravaging the richer sections, completing the work of demolition.
He saw Lankan citizens crowding the gates of his palace, begging for sanctuary against the invading troops of Rama. They were all fat merchants and the spoilt, soft, rich rakshasas he had cultivated for their shrewd trading and wealth-creation. They were of no use now. He needed warriors.
‘Open the gates and let them in,’ he told the captain of his palace guard, Narantaka, a kumbha who was the bastard son of Kumbhakarna himself, which made him Ravana’s nephew. Or was he Ravana’s own bastard? Hmm. Sometimes it was hard to be sure, after so many dalliances and impregnations. In one sense, of course, all of Lanka was his extended family.
‘And after they’re in, close the gates, and then kill them all.’
‘Sire?’ said Narantaka, staring at Ravana.
That group there,’ Ravana gestured casually, ‘knows where most of Lanka’s wealth is concealed, here as well as in foreign lands. In the event that they’re captured alive, they won’t hesitate to share that knowledge, or even some of their wealth, to save their perfumed lives. Dead, their knowledge goes to the netherworld with them. I want them all killed, down to the last rakshasa, rakshasi and child.’
Narantaka looked at him briefly with a look that reminded Ravana so strongly of the face on the extreme end of his left rack that he felt certain that this was his bastard, not Kumbhakarna’s. The captain saluted silently and marched away to carry out his orders.
By the time Ravana emerged from the palace a little while after sunset, the courtyard was littered with corpses. He gestured to Narantaka, who stood smartly before a company of palace guards, awaiting his next orders. ‘Leave a couple of kumbhas to burn the bodies,’ he said. ‘The rest of you follow me.’
‘My lord,’ Narantaka replied. ‘What of your family and the palace staff? Should we not remain here to guard them in the event of an intrusion by the enemy?’
Ravana glanced at him. ‘They can look out for themselves. Besides, your company has the last fresh troops in Lanka. If you stay here, the enemy will attack. That’s why I need you to ride out with me, to stop them before they do.’
The captain looked as if he wished to say something further, but then he saluted and gave the necessary orders. Ravana climbed aboard his chariot, took up the reins and rode out without waiting to see if Narantaka and his troops followed. The streets of Lanka’s richest quarters were a shambles, destroyed by the Arrow—and not a house remained untouched. And these were the structures freshly raised by the sorcery of a few nights ago, during Ravana’s reconstruction of the city. It was hard to believe, looking at it now. It looked like a city that had been under siege for years, not days. That was what devastras did, accomplishing in hours what would take days to achieve through ordinary muscle-power and siege machines.
And to think that two mortals leading an army of vanars and bears had done it all.
He allowed himself the luxury of laughter, his amusement growing as he passed ever-increasing sights of destruction and distress. The greater the devastation, the more intense his amusement, the louder his laughter, and the faster he sped his chariot.
Laughing loudly enough to be heard over the din of battle and destruction, Ravana, Lord of Lanka, drove his chariot at manic speed through the devastated streets of his ruined city.
***
Hanuman was grappling with Kumbhakarna underwater. The vanar was gripping the rakshasa around the waist, with his head pressed against the giant’s belly, and was attempting to wrap his hands around him in order to pick him up, invert him, and bring him down head-first onto his thigh. But Kumbhakarna was no stranger to wrestling tactics, and had immediately grasped Hanuman’s neck and pinned it in a vice-like grip. Now he was using his other elbow to pound on Hanuman’s upper back. Each blow was powerful enough to raze mountains, and every time the giant’s elbow splashed down it threw up an explosion of water hundreds of yards high. Hanuman could actually feel the blows, which was an indication of how strong Kumbhakarna was. And the giant’s grip on his neck was tightening inexorably, choking off the last breath he had in his lungs.
He opened his eyes and saw dark water everywhere. The sun had set during the first moments of their clash, and here, almost a mile under the surface, the ocean was a deep midnight blue. He saw sea creatures swimming in the depths, no doubt wondering at these two enormous newcomers who had descended into their world and were causing such a maelstrom. Among the creatures of the deep he recognised the pale, whitish ones with the jagged sharp teeth and the large fins. There were several of them quite close by, and he could see their dead black eyes glinting even in this dim light as they watched the struggle of the titans with dispassionate interest, no doubt waiting in the hope that one or both of them would be left to provide fodder for their evening meal. For several hundred evening meals, in fact, considering their size. Hanuman knew these creatu
res well— they were the tigers and lions of the oceanic depths, the prime predators of this world.
The sight of their gliding bodies gave him an idea. He had to do something quickly, for he could not breathe now, and the giant’s relentless grip was forcing the last air out of his lungs, bubbling slowly out of his pursed lips to rise lazily towards the distant surface. The elbow hammering down on his back was starting to hurt as well; the giant seemed to be testing the strength of the individual links in his spinal cord. If this continued much longer, he would soon have a choice between dying by drowning, or from a broken back. He had to do something quickly.
His right cheek was pressed against the right side of the giant’s bulging belly. A great deal of Kumbhakarna’s bulk was fat, although like many an extremely obese person, the rakshasa bore powerful muscles beneath those rolls and rolls of adipose.
He turned his head very slightly, feeling the pressure on his neck increase exponentially and opened his mouth, ignoring the disgusting fetid odour coming from the rakshasa’s unwashed skin—when had he last bathed anyway? In the Satya Yuga? Then bracing himself for the undoubtedly wretched taste, he bit deep and hard into the roll of fat on the giant’s midriff. At once the skin and flesh parted, and the horrible stench and flavour of raw meat filled his mouth. He almost gagged, choking, and at once swallowed a great gout of ocean water. Which, of course, went down the wrong way, into his lungs, and that in turn made him start to cough.
At the same time, a small burst of blood spewed out of the gaping wound, billowing out and unravelling in ribbons on the ocean tides, carried in two separate directions at once. One ribbon of blood passed directly through the throng of dead eyes flicking their tails desultorily. As the blood reached them, they convulsed suddenly, as if stricken by fits, and started to wag their tails furiously, swimming this way, then that. Meanwhile, Kumbhakarna, belatedly realising that he had been injured somehow, ceased his elbow-pounding and reached down to feel the spot at his waist where Hanuman had bitten him. Hanuman, choking on ocean water as well as the disgusting chunk of fatty flesh and blood he still had in his mouth, wriggled fiercely, and with an effort, broke free of the giant’s grip.
Just as the first of the finned predators reached him. Hanuman saw the first one, an enormous white beast with a mouth full of more teeth than he had thought it possible for any mortal creature to possess, approaching with ferocious speed, just as a cheetah covers ground incredibly swiftly when in pursuit of her prey, and lunge directly at his face. No doubt to get at the mouthful of bloody flesh he still had between his teeth. He spat the mouthful straight at the sea predator, hitting it on the tip of its snout. It swerved upwards instantly, snatching the flesh and chomping down on it so hard, the morsel was divided neatly into three pieces. At once the other predators, following close behind lunged for the two remaining pieces, and began to fight over them in a frenzy. Several more swam past the frenzied group and came for the source of the bleeding—the wound in Kumbhakarna’s waist. Hanuman moved back out of the way, a lashing fin slapping him hard on his shoulder and a mouthful of jagged teeth missing his fingers by a whisker, and kicked hard, launching himself upwards and away from both the rakshasa as well as his frenzied pack of sea predators.
He broke the surface coughing and gasping, spitting out flecks of bloody flesh and emptying his lungs of the salty water he had swallowed. Several fish were regurgitated as well, swimming away in panic the instant they were splashed back into their natural habitat. ‘Sorry, little ones,’ he muttered, then coughed one last time and looked around.
Kumbhakarna was only a few yards away, but too preoccupied to notice him. The giant was thrashing around madly, no doubt feeling the deadly bites of the undersea predators in his already wounded belly, and not liking the idea of becoming an evening repast for the denizens of this watery world. He reached down into the water with both hands, and Hanuman saw his fists re-emerge clutching two of the white predators in one hand and a third big one in the other. The creatures thrashed furiously and one managed to squirm and bite Kumbhakarna deeply in the tender space between his taloned thumb and foreclaw. The rakshasa howled in pain and smacked the creature down hard on the surface of the ocean, not realising in his fury that slamming water creatures into water might not be the best way to injure them. He flung both fists as far as he could, and Hanuman saw the predators go flying miles away, thrashing in the air as they went, their fangs flashing even in the darkness. He didn’t wait to see where they landed, but instead took in a great deep breath and then quickly dived underwater and launched himself at the giant again before Kumbhakarna could spot him coming.
This time he went low, much lower than the rakshasa’s waist. He saw several dozen more predators, fins twisting wildly, rushing for the source of the blood they scented, and dived below them. The ocean was darker here, difficult to see through, although he could glimpse as well as feel any number of shoals of fish and those odd gelid creatures with the numerous tentacles floating about him. He had estimated the distance well, and was prepared when his shoulder slammed into the giant’s ankles. He grasped the two hairy rakshasa feet at once, and yanked hard with all his strength.
Kumbhakarna roared—Hanuman could feel the reverberation of the sound all the way down here, rippling through the water, as well as through the giant’s body itself—and lost his balance completely.
That was the chance Hanuman had been waiting for. As the rakshasa toppled over, he pulled Kumbhakarna’s feet upwards. They rose easily, without much resistance except for the water itself, for Kumbhakarna had nothing to hold on to. When he had the rakshasa’s feet at his own waist level, Hanuman shoved them upwards with all his might; then, when Kumbhakarna was fully inverted and thrashing about desperately, he pushed downwards, literally shoving the rakshasa’s head down towards the bottom of the ocean.
But while the rakshasa was no genius, he was no pushover either. He used the momentum of Hanuman’s downward shove to propel himself faster, braced his hands on the ocean floor, and somersaulted. Hanuman sensed this rather than saw it, for
their struggle had raised such clouds of mud and dirt from the ocean floor that the water was a swirling fog through which he could barely see. Also, he had to surface again to breathe, and when he did so, he saw Kumbhakarna’s feet emerge from the ocean several hundreds of yards away and then topple back, and then, moments later, the giant’s head and torso came out of the water. Kumbhakarna vomited out a great mouthful of ocean water, plant life, and even one of the squishy tentacled things. He gasped in several deep breaths, rubbing the salt water from his eyes, which had turned red. He had accumulated a great deal of undersea weed upon his bald pate, but seemed not to notice this. The pile of mulchy weed on his head almost resembled a wig of sorts, the kind that Hanuman had seen some of the richer classes of Lankans wearing during his first visit to Lanka. ‘Shall we dance?’ Hanuman asked him with a cocky grin.
Kumbhakarna bellowed again and charged at him.
***
This time, when Indrajit appeared, Rama did not waste time on parleys and heralds and warnings. All the formalities of war were done with. This was a fight to the last now. He had granted Indrajit the luxury of firing upon Lakshman and himself once, and had experienced first-hand what his lethal arrows could achieve. He had no intention of allowing the rakshasa a second opportunity.
The instant the black chariot turned the corner and rode down the avenue, Rama took aim. The Arrow of Shiva could assume any form suitable to a missile, depending on the user’s desire. Rama had only to think of the Arrow as barbed, and it would be barbed; hollowed with a rounded point, in order to pass through flesh and bone more smoothly, and it would be so.
This time, he called upon the celestial Arrow to alter itself into the shape of a snake.
Not any ordinary snake either. He called upon Takshak himself, the lord of snakes. The serpent that coiled eternally around the neck of Lord Shiva the Destroyer.
For this was Shiva’s arrow after
all. And Takshak was Shiva’s servant to command.
As he drew back the cord of the Bow to its maximum, Lakshman, standing beside him whispered into his ear, ‘In the name of our father Dasaratha. If his sons Rama and Lakshmana are righteous soldiers of truth, unbeaten in valour, then may these weapons of Shiva and Vishnu bring about the destruction of this unrighteous rakshasa.’
Rama loosed the Arrow directly at Indrajit, aiming for the slender crack between the top of the rakshasa’s armoured breastplate and the bottom rim of his helm.
The chariot thundered down the avenue directly at him. The Arrow sped towards its target.
SIXTEEN
Hanuman lost track of the passage of time. All he knew was that he and the rakshasa giant had been fighting for hours and that both had succeeded in injuring the other several times in different ways. The rakshasa had proved unusually adaptable, learning to use their situation to his advantage. Hanuman had swallowed enough ocean water to fill a small inland sea, and every bone in his body felt as if it had been pounded by Indra’s hammer on the anvil of the gods like a sword’s blade.
They faced each other in the dark waters, eyeing one another silently. Bellowing and shouting took too much effort, and they had spent the last hour-watch or two wrestling and hammering and lashing out in relative silence, only the splashing of water and the thud of fists on flesh and the slapping of palms against bodies providing accompaniment. Now, the rakshasa glared at him balefully, that part of his pale skin visible above the surface blotched with bruises and rents and cuts. Hanuman knew those cuts must hurt dreadfully when washed by the salt water, because his own certainly did. But the giant looked as if he could take far worse and still continue fighting. He looked, in fact, as if he could keep this up all night for a thousand more nights—or even a century. If the legends about him were true, as Vibhisena had claimed, then once awakened and challenged to a fight he could go on indefinitely, or until he won. Hanuman assumed he had never been defeated yet—for who on this mortal realm could fight and defeat a giant of this stature?
RAMAYANA Part 3_PRINCE AT WAR Page 88