He departed through the gate and went to where Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa waited for him. The sun dimmed, the four quarters were covered in darkness, the earth trembled and birds cried out in pain. The gods rained blood, Rāvaṇa’s horses stumbled and a vulture settled on his flagstaff as jackals howled hideously. Rāvaṇa’s left eye twitched and his right arm quivered. His face lost colour and his voice trembled, but he continued onwards despite these portents of defeat. A firebrand thundered out of the sky, vultures cried and crows called back to them. Rāvaṇa ignored these signs and went towards his own destruction, impelled by his fate.
The monkeys heard the sound of the approaching rākṣasas and prepared themselves for battle. A noisy fight ensued as they challenged each other in anger, determined to win. Rāvaṇa sent his gold-decorated arrows out among the monkeys. Some of them had their heads cut off, others had their chests split open, others stopped breathing in their tracks and fell dead. Still others had their heads broken and some had their eyes fall out. Everywhere Rāvaṇa went on the battlefield, the monkeys could not withstand the power of his arrows.
The earth was littered with the mangled bodies of monkeys that Rāvaṇa had killed. They ran from there, screaming like elephants fleeing from a forest fire. Rāvaṇa scattered them with his arrows as the wind scatters the clouds. And having wrought terrible destruction among the forces, Rāvaṇa sought out Rāma.
Sugrīva advanced towards Rāvaṇa holding an immense tree and all the monkey leaders arranged themselves behind and around him, armed with rocks and stones. Sugrīva shouted as he showered stones and rocks upon the enemy as a cloud might shower hail on birds in the forest. As Sugrīva was tormenting the rākṣasa forces who were falling down all over the place and screaming, Virūpākṣa grabbed his bow, leapt out of his chariot and climbed onto the back of an elephant. Releasing a stream of arrows, he chased after Sugrīva and rallied the rākṣasas who were losing heart.
Sugrīva struck the elephant with a huge tree and the animal collapsed, trumpeting in pain. Virūpākṣa came towards Sugrīva with his sword and dodged the rock the monkey flung at him. The rākṣasa sliced at the monkey and Sugrīva staggered. But he soon recovered and pounded Virūpākṣa with his fist. Virūpākṣa cut off Sugrīva’s armour with his sword and then went for him with his fists. Enraged, Sugrīva slapped Virūpākṣa with his open palm on his forehead and the blow resounded like thunder. Drenched with blood, Virūpākṣa fell to the ground, appearing even more cross-eyed than he actually was. The monkeys watched as the rākṣasa writhed in pain and cried out and then they plunged into battle again with their enemies. The battle between the forces raged on, thundering like an ocean that had transgressed its bounds.
As the battle went on, the armies diminished in size like lakes which dry up in the summer. Rāvaṇa called upon Mahodara to stem the destruction of his forces and Mahodara went into battle eagerly, like a moth towards a flame. Sugrīva saw that Mahodara was troubling the monkey forces and he picked up a rock that was large as a mountain. He hurled it at the rākṣasa but Mahodara splintered it with his arrows. It fell to the earth like a flock of frightened vultures. Sugrīva uprooted a tree, but Mahodara treated it in the same way. Enraged, Sugrīva grabbed an iron club lying nearby and pounded Mahodara’s horses to death with it.
Mahodara advanced with his mace and the two warriors began to fight like bulls, roaring like thunder clouds. They clashed so mightily that their weapons destroyed each other. Then they attacked each other with their fists, blazing like twin fires. Quick as lightning, Mahodara picked up a sword and Sugrīva did the same. They bellowed with delight as they came at one another, each an expert at handling weapons. They circled each other, determined to wrest victory. As Mahodara was trying to retrieve his sword from the shield in which it was stuck, Sugrīva struck his head a mighty blow. The head with its helmet and earrings fell to the ground and the rākṣasa forces did not wait to see any more. The monkeys cried out with delight and while Rāvaṇa raged, Rāma rejoiced.
Mahāpārśva stepped in immediately and harried the monkeys with his arrows. He caused heads to roll like the fruit from palm trees, he sliced off arms and shoulders and ripped into the sides of the monkeys. Angada saw that the monkeys were in trouble and he summoned all his energies together and hurled a sun-bright iron club at Mahāpārśva. Mahāpārśva fell senseless but soon recovered and stormed Angada with a hail of arrows. Angada hurled the same shining club at the rākṣasa and it ripped the bow and arrows from Mahāpārśva’s hand and the helmet from his head. Mahāpārśva struck Angada with a magnificent battle axe and Angada retaliated by hitting him with his fist. From his father, Angada had learned about the most vulnerable parts in the body and he struck Mahāpārśva just below the heart. His blow landed like a thunderbolt. Mahāpārśva’s heart burst open and he fell dead.
Rāvaṇa was incensed when he heard the monkeys rejoicing and was doubly determined to make a firm stand on the battlefield. As Rāvaṇa drove his chariot towards Rāma, the earth with its mountains, rivers and forests was filled with the rumbling of its wheels. He loosed a terrible weapon, powered by darkness, upon the monkeys and they fell all over the battlefield, burnt to death. Rāvaṇa saw Rāma with Lakṣmaṇa standing by his side, like Indra with Viṣṇu, preparing to join the fray. Leaning on his bow, Rāma watched as the monkeys were routed and Rāvaṇa continued to advance. He twanged the string of his magnificent bow and the sound seemed to rend the earth. Thousands of monkeys and rākṣasas fell to the ground.
Now within range of the princes’ arrows, Rāvaṇa was like Rāhu approaching the sun or the moon. Lakṣmaṇa was keen to loose the first weapon and so he shot a stream of arrows at Rāvaṇa that burned like tongues of flame. Rāvaṇa intercepted them while they were still in the air and turned his attentions to Rāma, who stood there steady as a rock.
Rāma and Rāvaṇa assaulted each other with showers of splendid arrows that rivalled each other in their powers. The arrows circled each other in the air and eventually destroyed one another. The air was so thick with missiles that it seemed as if the sky was filled with rain clouds. Arrows flashed like lightning through the dark sky as the battle between the two mighty warriors raged on.
Rāma invoked the power of Śiva for his arrows and shot a stream of them at Rāvaṇa. They fell all over Rāvaṇa’s impenetrable armour which was as dark as a cloud and the rākṣasa felt no pain at all. Rāma, skilled in the use of all kinds of weapons, struck Rāvaṇa on the forehead with a powerful missile that split his arrows down the middle and entered the earth, hissing like a snake. Unable to use his arrows any more, Rāvaṇa invoked the power of the asuras in his anger and Rāma was assaulted by weapons with the heads of lions, tigers, crows, vultures, jackals, and wolves, their terrifying mouths wide open. Rāma was unmoved by the illusions created by the weapons of the asuras and calmly released the weapon powered by the god of fire. Sharp, blazing arrows that shone like the sun, the moon and the planets poured out of it and stopped Rāvaṇa’s fierce arrows in the air. Rāma was delighted and the monkeys shouted for joy.
Rāma and Rāvaṇa fought on and on with all the magical and celestial weapons at their command. Lakṣmaṇa joined the battle and with his well-chosen arrows he ripped apart Rāvaṇa’s battle banner, splintered his bow and arrows and cut off the head of his charioteer. Vibhīṣaṇa used his mace to pulverize Rāvaṇa’s splendid horses which were as dark as rain clouds.
Enraged, Rāvaṇa hurled a spear which blazed like lightning at his brother, but before it could reach him, Lakṣmaṇa destroyed it with three arrows. The monkeys whooped with joy when the spear fell to the ground, leaving a trail of sparks like a meteor. Rāvaṇa yelled, ‘Since you rescued my brother with your admirable strength, Lakṣmaṇa, I shall leave him alone and attack you instead! I shall hurl this spear at you and it will split your heart in two!’
Rāvaṇa chose a spear that had been created by the sorcerer Māya, s
o bright that it dazzled the eye. As he hurled it at Lakṣmaṇa, Rāma muttered, ‘May you stay well, Lakṣmaṇa! And may the spear fail in its purpose and fall, useless, to the ground!’ The spear blazed through the air and lodged itself in Lakṣmaṇa’s chest and he fell to the ground. Rāma’s eyes filled with tears and for a few moments, he stood still. Then, anger welled within him, like the fire that rages at the end of the yuga. He realized that this was not the time for grief and decided to fight Rāvaṇa even more ferociously than before.
The monkeys gathered around Lakṣmaṇa and tried to pull out the spear that was stuck in his chest but they were scattered by Rāvaṇa’s arrows which fell upon them like rain. The spear had passed through Lakṣmaṇa’s body and pinned him to the earth. Rāma exerted his enormous strength and pulled out the spear, breaking it in two. Rāvaṇa took the opportunity to pierce Rāma all over his body with arrows. Rāma ignored them and, embracing his brother, he said to Hanumān and Sugrīva, ‘Look after my brother, great monkeys!
‘The time for which I have waited has finally come, like the rain clouds at the end of summer. I shall kill wicked Rāvaṇa! I promise you, before long, you will see the world deprived either of Rāvaṇa or of Rāma! By killing Rāvaṇa today, I will avenge myself for all that I have suffered: the loss of my kingdom, the exile in the forest, the abduction of Sītā and all the encounters with the rākṣasas. Rāvaṇa will not live, now that I have set eyes on him!
‘Go and sit on the top of that mountain, mighty monkeys, and watch as I battle Rāvaṇa! I shall accomplish something that the three worlds, the gods, gandharvas, ṛṣis, cāraṇas and all living creatures shall talk about forever!’
Rāma calmed his mind and released a hail of arrows against Rāvaṇa, who was so terrified that he ran away like a cloud chased by the wind.
‘My brother has been struck down by Rāvaṇa’s mighty arrows and he lies here writhing in pain!’ said Rāma. ‘My heart is filled with sorrow. How can I fight when he lies here drenched in blood? What use is life and happiness to me if my beloved brother dies? My courage withers within me in shame, my bow slips from my hands, my arrows fail and my eyes are blinded by tears. My mind is filled with anxiety and I would almost welcome death! I have no interest in fighting, or in my life or even in Sītā when my brother lies dead in battle!’
‘Heroic Lakṣmaṇa is not dead!’ said Suṣeṇa, comforting Rāma. ‘His face is still bright and he has a peaceful look. His palms are as red as lotus petals and his eyes are clear. This is not the look of a dead man! Do not grieve, hero, for Lakṣmaṇa is alive! He lies asleep on the earth, his heart beating, breathing steadily.’
Suṣeṇa turned to Hanumān, who stood by his side. ‘Go quickly to the mountain that Jāmbavān told you about earlier, the one with all the medicinal herbs. Bring me the viṣalyakarṇī, the sauvarṇakarṇī and the sanjīvanī that grow on its southern peak. I shall need them all to revive Lakṣmaṇa!’
Hanuman left immediately for the mountain, but when he got there, he could not recognize the herbs. ‘I will take the entire mountain back with me,’ he decided. ‘If I go back without the herbs, the delay may be fatal and my reputation will suffer.’ Hanumān lifted the entire mountain and carried it back to the battlefield. ‘I could not recognize the herb,’ he said to Suṣeṇa. ‘So I brought back the whole mountain!’
Suṣeṇa praised Hanumān and crushed the herbs. He placed them under Lakṣmaṇa’s nose and in an instant, Lakṣmaṇa, the mighty slayer of his enemies, revived, his wounds healed. He rose from the ground and the monkeys praised Suṣeṇa as Rāma embraced his brother with tears in his eyes.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Rāma returned to the battle with Rāvaṇa, deluging him with arrows. Rāvaṇa leapt into another chariot and attacked Rāma with arrows that fell with the force of a thunderbolt.
The gods and the gandharvas felt that with Rāvaṇa in a chariot and Rāma on the ground, the fight was no longer equal. Indra summoned Mātali, his charioteer, and called for his own chariot which shone like the sun. It was made of gold and covered with tinkling bells and jewels. It was drawn by green horses, adorned with golden ornaments and they, too, shone like the rising sun. It was crowned with a dazzling white battle banner.
Mātali took the chariot to Rāma on earth and said to him with his palms joined, ‘Indra has sent you this chariot so that you can be victorious. He has also sent you this shining armour, his mighty bow and arrows and this bright spear! Climb into the chariot, hero. I shall be your charioteer. Kill the rākṣasa the way Indra killed the dānavas!’
Rāma climbed into the chariot and the battle that ensued was so terrifying that it made the hair stand on end. Once again, Rāma and Rāvaṇa called upon all the celestial weapons. When Rāvaṇa employed arrows that turned into hissing snakes, Rāma invoked the powers of Garuḍa, the king of the birds. His arrows, which could take any form they chose, turned into eagles and destroyed Rāvaṇa’s snake arrows.
Enraged, Rāvaṇa loosed a flood of arrows and struck Mātali. He cut down the battle banner on the chariot with a single arrow and even struck Indra’s horses. The gods, gandharvas, dānavas and cāraṇas were very upset and the monkeys and Vibhīṣaṇa were terribly disheartened. The sea blazed with anger and soared up as if to touch the sky, its waves covered in smoke. The sun turned blue but was hot to the touch. A headless corpse with a comet for a tail was seen. With his ten heads and his twenty arms, Rāvaṇa looked like Mount Mainaka. Rāma found that he could not fit his arrows into his bow. He frowned and in his anger, he seemed to consume his enemies with the fire of his eyes. The earth trembled when it saw Rāma’s wrath. The mountains and trees and animals quaked and the sea was in turmoil. Terror filled the hearts of all creatures and even Rāvaṇa was afraid.
Rāvaṇa thought for a while, considering which weapon he should use. He chose a spear which was as hard as a diamond. It terrified all that saw it for it was sharp and flew through the air covered with smoke like the doomsday fire. Even the god of death could do nothing to counter it. Rāvaṇa grasped it in the middle, his eyes red with anger, roaring as he did so to encourage the forces that surrounded him. His cry shook the earth and the sky and the four quarters as he hurled the spear at Rāma.
Rāma greeted the spear with a shower of arrows, but the spear consumed them in midair. Rāma was beside himself with anger when he saw his arrows reduced to ashes. He grabbed Indra’s spear that Mātali had brought for him and whirled it around his head. It lit up the sky as it confronted Rāvaṇa’s spear, shattering it to pieces. Then Rāma attacked Rāvaṇa’s horses, piercing them with his arrows. He struck Rāvaṇa on the chest and on the forehead. Wounded in every limb and drenched with blood, Rāvaṇa was in trouble, but his anger continued to burn.
The two great warriors attacked one another relentlessly with arrows that blotted out the sun. They could barely see each other on the battlefield. Because Rāma was determined to kill his enemy, his courage surged and doubled and he felt sure of all the weapons under his command. The weapons seemed to jump into his hands when he needed them and his confidence added to his skill. Seeing these auspicious signs, Rāma intensified his assault on Rāvaṇa. He loosed arrows upon him and the monkeys showered the rākṣasa with stones. Rāvaṇa was confused and could not find his weapons. He was filled with despair and even the arrows that he managed to use failed him. Death hovered over him and when his charioteer realized his plight, he slowly moved the chariot out of the range of attack.
But Rāvaṇa, deluded and impelled by his fate, berated the charioteer, his eyes red with anger. ‘You idiot! You are doing exactly what you want, as if I were defeated or helpless, a coward who has lost his nerve, as if I had forgotten all my magic powers and the use of celestial weapons! Why did you not consult me before you drew the chariot away? You have destroyed my reputation for courage and skill in battle that I built up over long years in a single instant!
‘What you just did was not the act of a friend or a well-wisher. I am tempted to believe that you are working for the enemy! If you have any regard for our long relationship and for my prowess, you will turn the chariot around and return to the battlefield!’
The charioteer obeyed Rāvaṇa’s command and the king of men saw the king of the rākṣasas approaching. Drawn by black horses, terrifying in its splendour, its flags flashing like lightning, producing a storm of arrows like a rain cloud, Rāvaṇa’s chariot rumbled along like thunder. ‘Look, Mātali,’ said Rāma, ‘Rāvaṇa’s chariot comes towards us in an anti-clockwise direction. He is bound to die in battle. I want to destroy this creature. Drive forward without fear. Hold your head high!’
Mātali took Rāma’s chariot forward, moving clockwise, and covered Rāvaṇa in the cloud of dust that rose from the chariot wheels. Rāma raised Indra’s bow for the attack and the celestial beings gathered to watch the fierce battle between these warriors who were like lions.
The gods rained blood upon Rāvaṇa’s chariot and it was tossed about by mighty whirlwinds. A huge group of vultures hovered in the air, following his chariot wherever it went. The sky over Lankā turned bright red and the earth under it seemed to be burning. Blazing meteors thundered down from the sky, creating panic among the rākṣasas for they seemed to bode ill for Rāvaṇa. The earth shook wherever Rāvaṇa went and as he reached for his weapons, his fingers seemed to be pulled away by an invisible force. The wind lifted dust into his eyes, blinding him, and lightning struck his forces even though there were no rain clouds in the sky.
Valmiki's Ramayana Page 57