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When Dasharatha finished his long and gracious reply, the great and radiant Vishvamitra felt a thrill run through him, the hair rising on his body, and he began to speak. What opens here as a plea for a single boy will carry you to the moment when a young prince of Ayodhya lifts a bow for the first time and brings a demoness down onto the earth, and an old rishi’s fire-rite reaches its close without a single obstruction. Come, follow it with Valmiki, canto by canto.
Vishvamitra’s Request (Canto 19)
Vishvamitra said, “What you have spoken, lion among kings, is worthy of you and of no one else on earth, for you were born in a great line and carry the teaching of Vasishtha, your family preceptor. Now, tiger among kings, resolve to grant the wish that stands foremost in my heart, and make your promise true.
“I stand consecrated for a sacrifice. Two rakshasas, night-roaming demons who feed on human flesh and can take any shape they please, keep breaking it. Just as the rite neared its completion, these two, Maricha and Subahu, both powerful and schooled in war, poured a stream of flesh and blood down from the sky and fouled the altar, the sacred ground of the fire. My vow was shattered, and I came away with nothing to show for my labor. The nature of that rite is such that no curse may be uttered while it runs, and so no anger is allowed to break loose in me, lord of the earth.
A sub-tale: A curse drains away whatever a sage has won through austerity. For this reason a rishi under a vow will not spend his hoarded power on a curse, and during a consecration the very speaking of a curse is forbidden outright. This is why Vishvamitra, for all his strength, does not simply curse the demons dead. He comes instead to Ayodhya to ask for a kshatriya whose might lies in his arms.
“So, tiger among kings, place in my hands your eldest and gallant son, Rama, who though still a boy is true and unfailing in valor, the side-locks of a child’s hair still hanging at his temples. By his own divine radiance, and guarded by me, he is fit to destroy every hostile demon. I will grant him many boons that will win him fame across the three worlds; of that there is no doubt. The instant those two rakshasas come face to face with Rama, they cannot hold their ground.
“No man other than Rama can kill them. Drunk on their own prowess, those two sinners are already bound in the noose of Death, and they are nothing before the high-souled Rama. Do not let a father’s love stand in the way, lord of the earth. I give you my word: count the two demons as already slain.
“Vasishtha of great radiance and all these ascetics know Rama for exactly what he is. If you want the gain of dharma and the highest fame on earth, give Rama to me. Let Rama come with me only if all your counsellors, with Vasishtha at their head, give their consent. Hand your beloved lotus-eyed son to me for ten days and nights, no longer, for the sake of my sacrifice. Act so that the season of my rite does not slip past, and let no grief settle on your mind. May good come to you.” Having spoken these words, full of dharma and truth, the deeply wise Vishvamitra fell silent.
When he heard that plea, righteous and heart-tearing at once, Dasharatha was flooded with grief. He trembled and fainted away. When his senses returned he rose, and the fear of losing his eldest son pressed on him so hard that he slid from his seat and fell again, unconscious.
The gist: The sage’s sacrifice is dharma, and the king’s given word is dharma too. Where the two collide over the demand for one boy, the seed of this chapter is sown.
Dasharatha’s Refusal and Vishvamitra’s Wrath (Canto 20)
When Dasharatha heard Vishvamitra’s words, he lay as if senseless for close to a muhurta, a span of about forty-eight minutes, then came to himself and said, “My lotus-eyed Rama is not yet even sixteen years old. I cannot see in him the strength to fight rakshasas.
A key to understanding, the akshauhini: This is a full battle-array of the four-limbed army, made up of 21,870 elephants, the same number of chariots, 65,610 horses, and 109,350 foot soldiers. Chaturanga means four limbs: elephants, chariots, cavalry, and infantry. In modern terms it is a vast host, roughly the size of a small national army.
“Here stands an army of mine, a full akshauhini, and I am its master and commander. I will march with it and fight those night-roamers myself. These brave retainers of mine are skilled in weapons and fit to face demon hordes, but do not take Rama away. I myself, bow in hand, will guard your sacrifice at the front of the battle for as long as I breathe.
“Rama is still a boy, a stranger to the science of war. He cannot weigh an enemy’s strength or weakness, he has no command of missiles, and he is not practiced in battle. The rakshasas fight by trickery, by deceit and ambush, and so Rama is no match for them. Parted from Rama, I could not stay alive even for a muhurta. If even so you are set on taking Raghava, then take him along with my four-limbed army.
“Sixty thousand years have passed since I was born, Kaushika. This son came to me only after great hardship. Of my four sons my deepest love is fastened on the eldest, Rama, in whom dharma stands foremost. Tell me, then: how strong are these rakshasas, whose sons are they, what are their names, what is their size, who protects them, and how can they be answered, by Rama, by my army, or by me, when they fight by such treachery? Tell me all of it.”
Then Vishvamitra spoke. “In the line of Pulastya, one of the nine mind-born sons of Brahma and lords of creation, there is a rakshasa named Ravana. From Brahma he has won a boon that no one may bring his death except a human being. Ringed by countless demons, that mighty one torments all three worlds without mercy. He is the son of the sage Vishrava, Pulastya’s son, and the true half-brother of Kubera, the eldest son of Vishrava. When the powerful Ravana thinks it beneath his dignity to disturb some smaller sacrifice in person, it is at his prompting that these two mighty demons, Maricha and Subahu, break the rite.”
A sub-tale: Ravana’s descent runs from Pulastya, Brahma’s mind-born son, to Vishrava, and from Vishrava to both Ravana and Kubera. Kubera is Vishrava’s eldest son, and Ravana his younger half-brother. Ravana holds a boon that makes him unkillable by every kind of being except a human. That single human loophole is what makes his end possible one day at a man’s hands, and this thread becomes the axle on which the whole Ramayana turns.
At this the king said, “I cannot last in battle against that evil soul. Knower of dharma, have mercy on me in my poor fortune and on my young son, for you are like a god and a guru to me. Gods, demons, gandharvas, the singers of heaven, yakshas, birds, and serpents cannot withstand Ravana on the battlefield, so how are men to bear him? He drains away even the valor of the brave. I cannot fight him with my army or with my sons beside me. So I will not, by any means, give up my dear child Rama, who is like a god and wholly untrained in war. If Maricha and Subahu, the sons of Sunda and Upasunda, those two who come like Death itself, disturb your sacrifice, I will go myself with my kinsmen to fight one of them. Otherwise, with my kinsmen, I beg your pardon.”
This rambling, disjointed speech from the king filled Vishvamitra, son of Gadhi of the line of Kushika, with a heavy anger. As a sacrificial fire fed with oblations and sprinkled with ghee leaps up, the fire of the great seer’s anger blazed high in an instant.
The gist: The fear of Ravana unsettles Dasharatha’s given word. Love for his son pulls him back from his promise, and it is here that the sage’s anger flares like a fire fed with oblations.
Vasishtha Intervenes (Canto 21)
Hearing Dasharatha’s reply, its words faltering with affection, Vishvamitra of the line of Kushika spoke, full of anger. “First you promised to grant what I asked, and now you want to draw back from your pledge. This breaking of a word is unworthy of the house of Raghu and will bring ruin on this line. If you can bear it, I will go back the way I came. Live on in comfort among your friends, scion of Kakutstha, with your promise made false.
At this fury of Vishvamitra the whole earth shook, and a great fear spread through the minds of the gods. Seeing all the worlds in alarm, the steadfast Vasishtha, firm in his vows, said to the king, “Born in the house of Ikshvaku, you are almost a second dharma in living form. Full of firmness, true to your vows, and blessed as you are, you must not abandon dharma, the truth of your word. Raghava, known through the three worlds as a soul devoted to dharma, hold fast to your own duty, your fidelity to truth, and do not shoulder the weight of adharma, the breaking of a promise. When a man makes a vow and fails to keep it, all the merit he has gathered from ishta, the fire-rites, and from purta, works of public good like wells and tanks, is destroyed. So send Rama with Vishvamitra.
“Whether Rama has learned the science of weapons or not, so long as he is under the protection of Vishvamitra, son of Kushika, no demon can defeat him, the way nectar stays safe when it is ringed by fire. Vishvamitra is dharma in the flesh, first among the valiant, ahead of all in learning, and a vast storehouse of tapas. He knows weapons of every kind. In all three worlds, among moving and unmoving beings, no other man than I knows him fully, nor ever will, not the gods, not the rishis, not the gandharvas, the yakshas, the kinnaras, or the great serpents.
A sub-tale: How the weapons were born. Long ago all the divine missiles came into the world as the wholly righteous sons of Krishashva, a lord of created beings. They were born of Daksha’s daughters, Jaya and Suprabha. By the grace of a boon, Jaya bore fifty sons of measureless radiance and without bodily form, meant for the destruction of the armies of the asuras; Suprabha bore fifty more, hard to withstand and hard even to assail, known together by the name Samhara, the powers of destruction. In this way a hundred weapons appeared in forms of blazing splendor, and Lord Shiva granted them to Vishvamitra while he still ruled a kingdom.
“The son of Kushika knows all these weapons exactly as they are, and he can bring new ones into being as well. Nothing in the past or the future is hidden from this high-souled knower of dharma. So do not doubt, O king, when it comes to sending Rama with a man of such might, radiance, and fame. He is able to subdue the demons himself, and it is only to bring good to your son that he has come to you and asked for Rama.”
Cheered in mind by this explanation from Vasishtha, Dasharatha, best of the Raghus, foremost among kings, his fame spread far and wide, grew glad and gave his inward consent to send Rama and so to please Vishvamitra.
The gist: A single word from Vasishtha, the family guru, restores the balance that fear and attachment could not, reassuring the sage’s fierce power and returning the king to the dharma of truth.
The Departure and the Bala-Atibala Lore (Canto 22)
Even as Vasishtha was still speaking, King Dasharatha, his face bright now, called for Rama himself along with Lakshmana, knowing that the two brothers could not be parted. After the blessings of his mother, Queen Kausalya, and his father, Dasharatha, the family priest Vasishtha consecrated Rama with auspicious Vedic mantras. Then the king smelled the crown of his son’s head as a token of love and, with a heart full of gladness, placed him in the hands of Vishvamitra, son of Kushika.
The moment Rama was seen setting out with Vishvamitra, a breeze began to blow, soft to the touch and free of dust. As the noble Rama departed, flowers rained down from the sky, and the blare of conches and kettledrums rang out together with the sound of the drums of the gods. Vishvamitra walked in front. Behind him came the famed Rama, side-locks at his temples and bow in hand, and behind Rama came Lakshmana, son of Sumitra.
Each prince carried a pair of quivers, a bow in hand, lighting up all ten directions, and looked like a three-headed serpent, the two quivers rising like two extra heads. They followed the noble Vishvamitra the way the Ashvini-kumaras, the physicians of the gods, walk behind the grandsire Brahma. With gloves of iguana skin bound to their fingers and swords at their sides, their limbs fair to look upon, Rama and Lakshmana lent him the same grace that Skanda and Vishakha, the two boys born of fire, lend the unfathomable Lord Shiva.
A key to understanding, the yojana: One yojana is reckoned at about 8 miles, roughly 13 kilometers. Adhyardha yojana means one and a half yojanas, about 12 miles, roughly 19 kilometers.
After walking about 12 miles along the southern bank of the Sarayu, Vishvamitra said in a sweet voice, “Rama, sip a little water, and let no time be lost. Receive from me, along with Lakshmana, the chain of mantras called Bala and Atibala. Under their shelter you will feel no fatigue and no fever, and your beauty will never be dimmed by old age or the like. Even asleep or off your guard, you cannot be attacked by night-roaming demons, and no one on earth will equal the strength of your arms.
“So long as you keep reciting Bala and Atibala, no one in the three worlds can match you, Rama. In good fortune, in valor, in knowledge, in the resolve of your intellect, in the ready answer, O sinless one, none in the world will be your equal. Bala and Atibala are the mothers of all wisdom, for they drive off hunger and thirst and the rest, which dull the mind and make a man forget what he has learned. While you recite them, hunger and thirst will not trouble you. These two lores are the daughters of the grandsire Brahma and are full of power; your fame will spread over the whole earth. I wish to give you this lore, because you are a worthy vessel for it. All these qualities already live in you, yet in your hands, and you are austerity itself, they will bear fruit many times over.”
Sipping water, Rama, pure by his very nature, took initiation in the two lores from the pure-minded seer Vishvamitra, his face full of joy. Endowed with them, Rama of terrible valor shone like the thousand-rayed sun of autumn. Rama and Lakshmana carried out every duty a pupil owes his teacher, and the three passed the night in comfort on the bank of the Sarayu. A bed of straw and grass was hardly fit for princes, and yet, cradled by Vishvamitra’s affectionate words, that night felt sweet to them.
The gist: The journey’s first gift is two lores, Bala and Atibala, which guard against hunger, fatigue, and old age; the sage strengthens his pupil from within before he ever hands him a weapon.
The Ashram of Kama at the Ganga-Sarayu Confluence (Canto 23)
As the night turned toward dawn, the great sage Vishvamitra spoke to Rama and Lakshmana, asleep on their bed of leaves. “Kausalya is blessed in a son like you, Rama. The morning twilight has begun. Rise, tiger among men. The daily rites are waiting, the meditation on the Deity and the purification of the body.”
Hearing the sage’s gentle words, the two heroes bathed, offered water to the sun, and recited the most sacred Gayatri, than which there is no holier mantra. Their morning rites finished, they bowed to Vishvamitra, rich in austerity, and stood ready and glad to go on.
Moving on from that place, the two came in sight of the divine Ganga, the Tripathaga who flows along three roads, through heaven, earth, and the world below, near her confluence with the Sarayu. There they saw the holy ground of the hermitages of sages of purified heart, who had been at the highest austerities for many thousands of years. Delighted at the sight of that sacred retreat, the two asked Vishvamitra, “Venerable one, whose holy hermitage is this? What man dwells in it? We wish to hear, and our curiosity is great.”
Hearing this, the best of sages laughed and said, “Listen, Rama, to whose former home this was. Kandarpa, the god of love, whom the wise call Kama, once wore a living body. In this very hermitage Lord Shiva sat in deep meditation, absorbed in austerity. After his marriage, as Shiva was going out with the whole host of the forty-nine wind-gods to meet Parvati, the foolish god dared to loose his arrows of love at him. Shiva rebuked him with a roar, the sound ‘hum.’ From Rudra’s third eye a curse fell on him, Raghava, and every limb of the witless one dropped from his body. Scorched by the anger of the lord of gods, his limbs were destroyed on the spot, and Kama was left without a body. From that day he was known as Ananga, the limbless one, and the tract of land where he shed his body came to be called, in later tradition, the country of Anga.
“This is his holy hermitage, and these sages were his disciples in the past, so they are devoted to dharma and free of sin. Tonight, fair-faced Rama, we will halt in this hermitage set between two sacred rivers, and tomorrow at dawn we will cross the Ganga. Purified by bath, recitation, and offerings into the fire, let us all enter this holy retreat.”
While they were still talking outside, the sages of the hermitage, whose sight had reached a long range through their austerity, sensed their presence and were overjoyed. They offered Vishvamitra water for his hands and feet and the courtesies of a host, then honored Rama and Lakshmana as well. Receiving attentions in return, they entertained the visitors with old tales. At the hour of dusk all the rishis, with calm and steady minds, recited the Gayatri to the best of their ability.
A sub-tale: How much to recite at twilight. The scripture holds that after the twilight worship the recitation is at most 1,000 repetitions, 100 at the middle measure, and 10 at the least.
In the company of the hermits of holy vows, Vishvamitra and his two pupils stayed in great comfort at that place called Kama, and the righteous Kaushika held the two charming princes rapt with delightful stories.
The gist: The first rest at the confluence is lit by the story of Kama burned to nothing and made Ananga, where before the fire of austerity even the body of desire falls away.
The Origin of the Sarayu and Tataka’s Forest (Canto 24)
In the clear dawn, their morning rites done and Vishvamitra at their head, the two brothers reached the bank of the Ganga. There the noble sages had a fine boat brought and said to Vishvamitra, “Board the boat with the princes ahead of you, and travel on by an auspicious road; let no time be lost.” Saying “So be it,” and returning the sages’ greeting, Vishvamitra with the two brothers began to cross the river as it ran toward the sea.
When they reached the middle of the current, Rama heard a tumult swelling from the waves striking one against another, and, eager to know its cause, he asked. The righteous Vishvamitra said, “Rama, on Mount Kailasa there is a great lake that Brahma shaped with his mind, and so it is called Manasa, born of the mind. From that lake the Sarayu issued, and she is called Sarayu because she flows out of a lake, and she is holy because she rises from a lake made by Brahma. She rings Ayodhya on every side except the south. This matchless roar of her waters rises when she rushes to meet the Jahnavi, the Ganga. The Ganga is called Jahnavi because the sage Jahnu, whose sacrificial ground she had flooded, once drank her up and later released her through his ears. Bow at their confluence with a steady mind, Rama.”
A sub-tale: What the names mean, in the tradition that grew up around them. Sarayu, “issued from a lake”; the Manasa lake, “shaped by Brahma’s mind”; Jahnavi, the Ganga, because the sage Jahnu drank her up and let her out through his ears. These derivations stand in Valmiki’s own text and tie the description of place to the story itself.
Bowing to the two rivers and reaching the southern bank of the Ganga, the deeply devout brothers pressed on with quick steps. Seeing a grim, unpeopled forest, Rama of the house of Ikshvaku asked, “How impassable this forest is, thick with swarms of crickets, full of fierce beasts of prey, of hawks and vultures and birds with harsh cries. It is set with lions, tigers, boars, and elephants, and dense with dhava, ashvakarna, kakubha or arjuna, bilva, tinduka, patala, and jujube trees. What is this fearful forest?” The radiant Vishvamitra answered,
A sub-tale: How Malada and Karusha came to be. Long ago, after the slaying of the demon Vritra, the sin of killing a brahmin seized the thousand-eyed Indra, and he was gripped by impurity and hunger. The gods and rishis bathed him with jars full of the water of the Ganga and washed the stain away. That impurity and that hunger were laid down here on this land, and from them two prosperous realms arose, Malada and Karusha. Indra granted a boon that these two, having taken on the impurity of his body, would grow rich and renowned across the world, and the gods cried “Well done, well done” in his praise.
“For a long age these two, Malada and Karusha, stayed rich in wealth and grain, O tamer of foes. Then at some point a yakshini appeared here, one who takes any shape she wishes and has carried the strength of a thousand elephants since birth. Her name is Tataka. She is the wife of the wise Sunda, and her son, the rakshasa Maricha, is as mighty as Indra, with rounded arms, a huge head, an enormous mouth, and a monstrous body. That mighty demon, terrible to look upon, is a constant terror to the people, and the wicked Tataka lays waste these realms of Malada and Karusha without pause, Raghava.
A key to understanding, measure and might: Tataka lives across an area of about 12 miles (adhyardha yojana, roughly 19 kilometers), holding the road closed. Her strength is put at that of a thousand elephants, a power no mortal woman could hold on her own. It is the fruit of a boon rather than any natural gift.
“She lives across a stretch of about 12 miles, blocking the road. This is exactly why we must head toward Tataka’s forest. Trust the strength of your own arms and put this wicked creature to death. At my command, make this land free of thorns once more. Because of this fierce, unbearable yakshini, no one can set foot on this holy and beautiful ground. I have now told you all of it: why this forest looks so terrible, and how this yakshini has never yet turned away from her vile deeds.”
The gist: A land of two rich realms has been laid waste by the terror of Tataka, a yakshini fortified by a boon, and at this very moment the sage orders Rama to kill her and clear the ground of thorns.
Tataka’s Birth and the Curse of Agastya (Canto 25)
Hearing this fine speech of Vishvamitra, Rama asked a gentle question. “When Tataka the yakshini is spoken of as a woman, she ought to be of slight strength. How then does she, a frail creature, carry the might of a thousand elephants?”
In a soft voice, gladdening Rama and Lakshmana, Vishvamitra said, “Listen. The valor she carries was given by a boon. Long ago there was a great yaksha named Suketu, strong and of good conduct, yet without children. He performed a great austerity to please Brahma. Pleased even while the austerity was still under way, Brahma gave him an excellent daughter, Tataka by name. The grandsire also gave her the strength of a thousand elephants, but the illustrious Brahma did not grant the yaksha a son.
A sub-tale: Tataka’s line. Her father was the yaksha Suketu; his Brahma-given daughter Tataka received the strength of a thousand elephants; she was married to Sunda, a daitya, the son of Jambha, since both yakshas and daityas belong to the order of demigods, so the match was held proper. From that union was born the son Maricha, who later became a rakshasa under a curse.
“She grew into her beauty and youth, and Suketu gave her as wife to Sunda, son of Jambha. After some time she bore a son named Maricha, hard to overcome, who became a rakshasa, a feeder on raw flesh, under a curse. When Sunda was killed by the curse of the sage Agastya, Tataka, together with her son, set herself to kill Agastya, the best of rishis. In her rage she rushed to devour him. Seeing her fly at him, the venerable Agastya said to Maricha, ‘Take on the birth of a rakshasa.’ And in his great anger Agastya cursed Tataka as well: ‘Cast off this lovely form at once and become a hideous, man-eating demoness with a mis-shapen face.’
“Maddened by the curse and changed into this shape, Tataka goes on ravaging this holy ground that Agastya once made pure. For the good of the cows and the brahmins, Raghava, kill this cruel, wicked yakshini of perverted power. No man in all three worlds other than you dares to kill this woman armed with a curse.
“You must feel no revulsion at killing a woman, best of men. For the good of the four orders of society, a kshatriya prince has to do deeds both cruel and gentle. To protect his people, a guardian must at times do even what is sinful or flawed; this is the eternal dharma of those who carry the burden of rule. Kill this woman who is adharma in living form, scion of Kakutstha; there is no dharma in her.
A sub-tale: Precedents for the killing of a woman, cited in the original. It is told that long ago Indra killed Manthara, daughter of Virochana, who wished to destroy the earth. And the wife of Bhrigu, the mother of Shukracharya, though devoted to her husband, longed for a world without Indra, so Lord Vishnu killed her. In the same way many high-souled princes have destroyed women given over to adharma.
“So cast off all revulsion and kill her at my command, protector of your people.”
The gist: Tataka’s strength comes from a boon and her cruelty from a curse, and the sage makes it plain that, for the protection of his people, even the killing of a woman becomes a kshatriya’s dharma.
The Slaying of Tataka (Canto 26)
Hearing this fearless charge from Vishvamitra, the firm-vowed prince Rama answered with folded hands. “In Ayodhya, among my other elders, my high-souled father Dasharatha gave me this command: ‘By the direction of your father’s word, and out of respect for it, the order of Vishvamitra, son of Kushika, is to be carried out without a moment’s doubt.’ So I cannot slight his command in any way. Having heard my father’s word and your order, spoken by one who speaks the Veda, I will carry out this highest duty, the killing of Tataka; of that there is no doubt. For the good of the cows and the brahmins, of this land, and of you whose radiance cannot be measured, I stand ready to obey.”
Having said this, Rama, tamer of foes, gripped the middle of his bow and gave a sharp twang of the string that set the quarters ringing with its echo. At that sound the forest-dwellers who followed Tataka were seized with terror, and Tataka herself, stunned at first, then filled with fury, ran toward the direction from which the sound had come.
Seeing her enraged, deformed, mis-shapen of face and monstrous in size, Rama said to Lakshmana, “Look, Lakshmana, at the fearsome body of this yakshini; the hearts of the timid would break at the mere sight of her. Look at her, so hard to withstand, armed with the power of maya. Today I will send her off with the tips of her ears and nose cut away. My mind does not want to kill her, guarded as she is by her womanhood. I mean to end her power and her speed by cutting off her hands and feet.”
Even as Rama spoke, Tataka, mad with rage, raised her arm and hurled herself roaring straight at him. The brahmin-sage Vishvamitra rebuked her with the sound ‘hum’ and cried, “May good come to the two Raghavas, may they win.” Throwing up dust, Tataka bewildered the two brothers for a muhurta with a huge cloud of it. Then, falling back on her maya, she covered them with a rain of stones, and Rama’s anger rose.
Parrying that rain of stones with a rain of his own arrows, Rama cut off her arms with his feathered shafts even as she came running. Then Lakshmana, in anger, cut away the ears and the tip of the nose of Tataka as she roared close by, her arms severed, worn out. The yakshini, who could take any shape she wished, put on many forms, bewildered the two with her maya, and vanished from sight. Loosing a terrible rain of stones, she roamed here and there.
Seeing the two of them covered on every side by the shower of stones, the noble Vishvamitra, son of Gadhi, said, “Have done with your gentleness, Rama. This sinful, wicked yakshini who wrecks sacrifices, kill her before she gathers more strength from her maya. The twilight is drawing near, and at the twilight hour the rakshasas grow hard to overcome.”
A key to understanding, the shabda-vedhi skill: When Rama pierces an unseen target with an arrow, guided only by the sound coming from it, that is the shabda-vedhi art, striking the mark true by the ear alone, without ever seeing it.
So charged, Rama showed his shabda-vedhi skill and held off the stone-throwing yakshini with his arrows. Checked by the net of his shafts, armed with the power of maya, she rushed roaring at Rama and Lakshmana. As the bold Tataka came on with the speed of Indra’s thunderbolt, Rama struck her in the chest with an arrow, and she fell dead. Seeing the terrible Tataka slain, Indra, king of the gods, and the other gods praised Rama, crying “Well done, well done.” Overjoyed, the thousand-eyed Indra, the breaker of strongholds, and all the gods said to Vishvamitra, “Kaushika, sage, may good come to you. Indra and all the hosts of the Maruts are satisfied with this deed. Show your affection to Raghava. Grant to him the knowledge of the weapons that are the sons of Krishashva, that lord of created beings, sons of true valor and full of the power of austerity. He is worthy of your favor and devoted to your service. A great work of the gods is going to be accomplished through the prince Rama.” Saying this, all the gods returned to the sky, praising Vishvamitra, and the twilight began.
Consoled by the death of Tataka, the best of sages smelled the crown of Rama’s head in gladness and said, “Stay here tonight, fair-faced Rama. Tomorrow at dawn we will go on to my well-known hermitage.” At this the son of Dasharatha, glad at heart, passed the night in comfort in that forest of Tataka. That very day the lovely wood, freed of its curse, shone bright as the Chaitraratha grove of Kubera, the pleasure garden of his capital, Alaka.
The gist: Rama first holds to a gentleness toward killing a woman and means only to maim her, yet when the fight turns to maya and the warning of dusk comes, he strikes at the sage’s command. Tataka falls, and in that same moment the forest is freed of its curse and blooms.
The Gift of the Divine Weapons (Canto 27)
Having rested that night, the far-famed Vishvamitra smiled and said to Rama in a sweet voice, “I am greatly pleased with you, prince of high renown. With the deepest affection I give you the knowledge of all the weapons, by which you will bring under your control and defeat in battle every enemy on earth, and even the hosts of gods and demons, gandharvas and serpents.
A sub-tale: These divine astras are living, conscious powers, held in place by a mantra, each with a deity established behind it. When the mantra is recited they appear before the adept in bodily form and obey his command. Every astra has its own name, its presiding deity, and its work, and this account stands in the very sequence of Valmiki’s original.
“I give you all these divine weapons; may good come to you. The great Dandachakra, then the Dharmachakra, the Kalachakra, the Vishnuchakra, and the fierce Aindrachakra, the weapon called the Vajra, the excellent Shula of Shiva, the weapon named Brahmashira, and the Aishika, which is loosed through a reed or a stalk of grass, all these I give. I give the matchless weapon of Brahma, the two shining maces named Modaki and Shikhari, the noose of Dharma, the noose of Kala, and the fine noose-weapon of Varuna. I give the two ashanis, the thunderbolts named Shushka, the dry, and Ardra, the moist.
“I give the weapon of Shiva, who bears the bow Pinaka, the Narayana-astra, the fiery weapon named Shikhara, beloved of Agni, the foremost Vayavya of the wind, the Hayashira of Hayagriva, and the weapon called Krauncha. I give the weapons of the demons, Kankala, the dreadful Musala, Kapala, and Kinkini; the excellent sword named Nandana, the great weapon of the Vidyadharas; the Mohana beloved of the gandharvas; the Prasvapana that brings sleep; the Prashamana that calms; Varshana, Shoshana, Santapana, and Vilapana, which in turn send down rain, drink up moisture, loose scorching heat, and make the enemy wail; the Madana beloved of Kandarpa; and the Manava beloved of the gandharvas, all these I give you.
“The Paishacha weapon named Mohana, the Tamasa, the mighty Saumana, the Samvarta, the Mausala, the Satya, the supreme Mayamaya, the Tejahprabha of the sun that steals away an enemy’s radiance, the Shishira of the moon, the terrible Sudaruna of Tvashta, the architect of the gods, the dreadful weapon of Bhaga, and the Shiteshu of Manu, receive these mighty weapons quickly, prince, for they take any form at will.”
Facing east, purified by sipping water, the best of sages granted Rama that peerless string of mantras, weapons that even the gods cannot hold whole in memory. The moment the wise Vishvamitra recited the mantras, all the great weapons appeared before Rama in their radiant, divine forms. Full of joy, they folded their hands and said, “We stand here as your servants, most generous Raghava. Whatever you wish, we will do; may good come to you.” With a glad mind Rama accepted them as his own, touched them with his hand, and commanded, “Appear in my mind whenever I call you.” Then the radiant Rama bowed to the great sage Vishvamitra and, glad at heart, made ready to go on.
The gist: The sage hands Rama the arsenal his austerity has stored up. Weapons that even the gods can scarcely hold take on bodies before Rama and give themselves to him like servants.
The Withdrawal Lore and More Weapons (Canto 28)
His face bright with joy at receiving the weapons, the pure Rama said to Vishvamitra as they walked on, “Venerable one, now that I hold the knowledge of the weapons, even the gods cannot easily overpower me. But I wish to learn the withdrawal mantras as well, the samhara spells that call the weapons back once they are loosed, best of sages.”
The moment Rama said this, the deeply austere, steadfast, and pure Vishvamitra, firm in his vows, taught him and Lakshmana the withdrawal mantras. He said, “Raghava, you are a worthy vessel, so receive these further radiant weapons, the sons of Krishashva, which take any form at will: Satyavan and Satyakirti, Dhrishta and Rabhasa, Pratiharatara, Parangmukha and Avangmukha, Lakshya and Alakshya, Dridhanabha and Sunabha, Dashaksha and Shatavaktra, Dashashirsha and Shatodara, Padmanabha and Mahanabha, Dundunabha and Svanabha, Jyotish and Shakuna, Nairasya and Vimala, Yaugandhara and Vinidra, Daitya and Pramathana, Shuchibahu and Mahabahu, Nishkali and Virucha, Sarchimali and Dhritimali, Vrittiman and Ruchira, Pitrya and Saumanasa, Vidhuta and Makara, Paravira and Rati, Dhana and Dhanya, Kamarupa and Kamaruchi, Moha and Avarana, Jrimbhaka and Sarpanatha, Panthana and Varuna, all these, Raghava; may good come to you.”
Saying “Badham,” so be it, Rama accepted them with a glad heart. In bodily form these weapons had divine, radiant frames and were a delight to all. Some glowed like live coals, some were like smoke, some bright as the moon and the sun, and all stood bowed with folded hands. In sweet voices they said, “Here we are, tiger among men; command us, what shall we do?” Raghava said, “Go now as you please. When the time comes, help me the instant I call you to mind.” Saying “So be it,” they circled Rama in reverence and went back the way they had come.
Knowing them now, Rama walked on and spoke sweetly to Vishvamitra. “Not far from the mountain, this cluster of trees looks like a mass of clouds for its dark color and its density. What is it? My curiosity is great. It is a sight worth seeing, full of deer, deeply lovely, adorned with many kinds of sweetly warbling birds. From its pleasant look I gather that we have come out of that grim forest of Tataka. Venerable one, whose hermitage stands here, where those sinful, brahmin-killing wretches come to wreck your sacrifice, where your rite is to be guarded and the demons are to be killed by me? I wish to hear all of it.”
The gist: The gift of the weapons would stay unfinished without the lore of calling them back. Rama himself asks for the withdrawal mantras, and the sage hands him restraint along with power.
The Story of Siddhashrama (Canto 29)
At this question the radiant Vishvamitra said, “Mighty-armed Rama, in this very grove Lord Vishnu, whom all the gods worship, once dwelt for many thousands of years and hundreds of turnings of the four ages, given to austerity and yoga. Here stands the former hermitage of the noble Vamana, the divine dwarf who is none other than the Supreme itself, known by the name Siddhashrama, because it was here that Vishnu accomplished his aim before his descent as Vamana.
A sub-tale: Bali and Vamana. King Bali, son of Virochana and grandson of Prahlada, conquered the gods along with Indra and the forty-nine wind-gods, ruled over all three worlds, and began a great sacrifice. Bali gave every petitioner whatever he asked. The gods, with Agni at their head, prayed to Vishnu to put on the form of a dwarf through his maya and act for their good. At that very time Kashyapa, son of Marichi, radiant as fire, came with his wife Aditi, and, having completed a vow of 1,000 divine years, the equal of 360,000 human years, praised Vishnu and asked the boon that he be born as the son of Aditi and himself, and, becoming Indra’s younger brother, help the grieving gods.
A key to understanding, the divine year: One year of the gods is reckoned equal to 360 human years. So Kashyapa’s vow of 1,000 divine years works out to about 360,000 human years of austerity, a mark of the vast scale of time in these old accounts.
“Then the radiant Vishnu took birth from the womb of Aditi and, in the form of Vamana, went to Bali. He asked for three paces of ground, and when he had received them, the Lord, devoted to the good of all the worlds, spanned all three worlds in three strides, subdued Bali by his divine might, and returned the three worlds to Indra. This same Lord made this hermitage holy in the ancient days, and it is out of devotion to that very Vamana that I too dwell here.
“The demons who wreck rites come to this hermitage, and it is here, tiger among men, that you are to kill those wicked ones. Now let us go on to that peerless Siddhashrama, my child. This hermitage is as much yours as mine, for you are that very Vishnu to whom it first belonged.”
Saying this, the overjoyed Vishvamitra took Rama and Lakshmana by the hand and entered the hermitage, shining like the moon free of fog and joined by the stars of the constellation Punarvasu. Seeing him arrive after so long with two distinguished guests, all the sages of the hermitage sprang up one after another and hurried to honor Vishvamitra. They gave the wise Vishvamitra the worship due to him and extended their hospitality to the two princes.
Having rested a little, the two foe-taming princes said to Vishvamitra with folded hands, “Enter the consecration this very day, best of sages. Let this Siddhashrama become an abode of success and make its name true, and let your word, that the demons are to be killed by me, come true as well.” Hearing this, the great seer Vishvamitra, master of his senses and firm in his vows, entered the rite of consecration for the sacrifice.
Having rested that night with calm and steady minds, the two boys, pure by nature and like Skanda and Vishakha, the two sons of Shiva, rose at dawn. Cleansed by their bath and the rest, they worshipped the morning twilight, recited the Gayatri by the rule, offered the agnihotra oblation mentally, and bowed to Vishvamitra, who sat at ease.
The gist: Siddhashrama is the very ground where Vishnu won the fruit of his austerity before his descent as Vamana, and in the sage’s hint there hides a glimpse of Rama recognized as that primal Vishnu.
Guarding the Sacrifice and the End of the Rakshasas (Canto 30)
Knowers of time and place, and of the word fit for each, the two foe-taming princes said to Vishvamitra, “Venerable one, we wish to hear at what hour those night-roamers Maricha and Subahu will come, so that we may stay alert. Let that moment not slip past us unseen.” At these words of the two Kakutsthas, restless with eagerness to fight, all the sages grew pleased and began to praise them.
A key to understanding, the six-night consecration: Once he has entered the consecration for the sacrifice, Vishvamitra will keep a vow of silence for 6 days and nights, the shad-ratra, and it is during this span that the demons’ attack is expected. This is why the burden of the guard falls on the princes. The sages give the answer on the sage’s behalf, because the consecrated Vishvamitra cannot speak himself.
The sages answered on the seer’s behalf, “From this day keep watch for 6 days and nights without a break, O Raghavas. This sage has been consecrated and will stay silent all this while, as he is even now.” Hearing this, the two famed princes guarded that grove of austerity for 6 days and nights without so much as a blink. Bearing their finest bows, the two vigilant heroes stayed close by Vishvamitra, best of sages, and guarded his sacrifice.
When five days had passed, the sixth came, the day on which the soma juice is pressed. Rama said to Lakshmana, “Now be ready and alert for a clash.” The moment Rama spoke, restless with his eagerness to fight, the fire on the altar suddenly leapt up in the presence of the Brahma, the presiding priest Vishvamitra, and the other officiating priests. Set with kusha grass, the chamasa (a wooden vessel used to drink the soma), the sruk (a large wooden ladle, about an arm’s length, for pouring melted ghee into the fire), pieces of firewood, and flowers, and ringed by the priests, the altar blazed, a warning of the demons’ coming assault.
A sub-tale: The vessels of the sacrifice. The chamasa is a square wooden vessel with a handle, used to drink the soma juice at the rite. The sruk is a large ladle, about an arm’s length, made of palasha or khadira wood, with a hollow the size of a palm at its end, used to pour melted ghee into the fire. These implements are part of the working method of the Vedic sacrifice.
The sacrifice was going on by the rule, with the chanting of sacred texts, when a terrible roar rose in the sky. As storm clouds cover the sky in the rainy season, so Maricha and Subahu, weaving their maya, fell upon the altar. Terrible to see, they and their followers came and poured down streams of blood, flesh, and pus. Seeing the altar drenched by that stream of blood, Rama ran at once to find the cause and caught sight of the demons in the air.
Seeing the two swoop down all at once, the lotus-eyed Rama looked at Lakshmana and said, “Look, Lakshmana, at these wicked demons who feed on raw flesh. I will scatter them with the Manavastra of Swayambhuva Manu the way the wind scatters clouds. I do not feel like killing them, for they still have some years to live.” Saying this, the swift Rama set Manu’s supremely radiant Manavastra to his bow and, in great anger, loosed it at Maricha’s chest.
A key to understanding, distance in yojanas: Rama’s Manavastra flings Maricha a full 100 yojanas away, into the middle of the sea. At about 8 miles to the yojana, that comes to roughly 800 miles, about 1,290 kilometers.
Struck hard by that supreme Manavastra, the demon was flung a full 100 yojanas, about 800 miles, into the middle of the sea. Seeing Maricha thrown so far, senseless and reeling, hurt by the force of the Shiteshu, Rama said to Lakshmana, “Look, Lakshmana, at the power of Manu’s Manava-Shiteshu, presided over and proven by Manu himself. It stunned him and carried him this far, and still it did not take his life. Now I will kill these merciless, wicked, sin-working, rite-wrecking, blood-eating demons as well.”
Saying this, as if to show his speed, Rama drew out the great Agneyastra and loosed it at Subahu’s chest; pierced through, he fell dead on the ground. Then the far-famed, most generous Raghava took up the Vayavyastra and drove the remaining demons far away, to the joy of the sages. Having killed in this way all the demons who wreck sacrifices, Rama was honored there by the rishis just as Indra was honored long ago after his victory over the asuras.
When the sacrifice was complete, the great sage Vishvamitra saw every quarter free of trouble and said to Rama, “Mighty-armed one, my purpose is fulfilled; you have kept your guru’s word. Hero of great fame, you have made the name of this Siddhashrama true as well.” Praising Rama in this way, he performed the twilight worship together with the two brothers.
The gist: After six sleepless nights of guard, Rama flings Maricha a hundred yojanas away with the Manavastra, kills Subahu with the Agneyastra, and Siddhashrama truly becomes an abode of success, the sage’s promise made good.
Source: Srimad Valmiki Ramayana, Balakanda, Cantos 19-30 (Gita Press, Gorakhpur).
Based on the Valmiki Ramayana (Gita Press, Gorakhpur)