Ramayana · The Siege of Lanka, and the Opening Battles

About 167 min read · 28,245 words

The sea was behind them. Raghava stood on the southern shore with his vast army, and the moment came to turn his feet toward Lanka. As it came, Rama’s eyes caught dreadful signs in the sky and on the earth. He drew Lakshmana to his chest, and, a reader of omens, told his brother that a great danger stood before them. The winds blew fouled with dust; the ground shuddered; the peaks of the mountains trembled and tall trees came down. Clouds harsh as flesh-eating beasts, with cruel, grating voices, let fall a rain streaked with drops of blood. The evening light lay red as sandalwood paste and terrible to look at, and a burning wheel of fire seemed to break loose from the sun and fall. Beasts and birds of grim and pitiful cry turned their faces toward the sun on every side and shrieked out fear. Through the night too the moon shone without luster, ringed in a black and red circle, giving off a heat as though the hour of dissolution had come. A small, smoky, copper-colored halo hung about the sun, and in a cloudless sky a blue stain lay upon its face. The stars, veiled in thick dust, seemed to signal the ruin of all the worlds. Crows, hawks, and low vultures swooped down upon Lanka, and jackal-bitches howled their evil music.

Rama told Lakshmana that this was a sign of the destruction of the champions of both sides, monkey and demon alike; that in a country rich in water and forest and heavy with fruit they must post the army in divisions, hold it in a battle array (a vyuha, the ordered formation of war), and stay watchful. Then, with all the monkeys, they should move today and swiftly against the city of Lanka, guarded by Ravana and nearly impossible to storm. So saying, Rama the archer, the lord who breaks his foes in war, set out ahead of them all, at the very front, toward Lanka. Vibhishana and Sugriva and all the best of the monkeys pressed forward roaring for the death of the enemy, and Raghava took deep pleasure in the eager labor of the monkey host.

A key to understanding (the battle array): In Valmiki’s warfare the army was drawn up in the shape of a human body (murdha the head, uras the chest, kukshi the belly, jaghana the hindquarters at the waist). Each part was given to a separate commander to guard, the way a modern front is divided into left, right, and center lines.

The army arrayed at Lanka’s gate, and Shuka’s return

The host of heroes, ranged in battle order by Sugriva, shone like the night of the autumn full moon. Under the weight of the feet of that sea-vast army, moving with the fury of the ocean, the frightened earth shook. Then the monkeys heard the loud clamor of kettledrums and mridangas within Lanka, and roared out in a voice higher still. Looking on Lanka bright with banners and pennons of every color, Rama’s mind grew troubled, and he remembered Sita, held back by Ravana as the star Rohini is held from the moon by the red planet Mars. Drawing a long, hot breath, he said to Lakshmana: look, Vishvakarma has raised this high city on a mountain peak as if out of his own mind, and it seems to touch the sky; crowded with seven-storied mansions, Lanka looks like the heavens covered over with white clouds. Then Rama gave the order to divide the army by the rule of the scriptures.

He drew up the monkey army so that the unconquerable Angada stood with Nila at the chest of the formation; the monkey named Rishabha held the right flank; the fierce Gandhamadana, like a rutting elephant, led the left; Rama himself with Lakshmana stood at the head, in front; Jambavan, Sushena, and Vegadarshi, three great chiefs of the bears and monkeys, guarded the belly; and Sugriva, king of the monkeys, guarded the rear like Varuna. Ordered so and shielded by its great monkeys, that host shone like the sky with its ranks of cloud. The monkeys snatched up mountain peaks and huge trees and rushed to crush Lanka, resolving in their hearts that they would grind the city to nothing, whether with mountain peaks or with their bare fists.

Then the mighty Rama said to Sugriva that the army now stood well ordered, and that Shuka should be set free. (Shuka was Ravana’s spy, whom the monkeys had earlier seized and held.) Hearing Rama’s word, the strong king of the monkeys released the envoy Shuka. Battered by the monkeys and badly frightened, Shuka came before Ravana. Laughing, Ravana asked how it was that both his wings came to be bound and looked as if clipped; had he perhaps fallen into the hands of those flighty-minded monkeys? Shaken with fear, Shuka answered that he had delivered Ravana’s message word for word, in gentle speech, coaxing and reasoning, but that the monkeys are by nature quick to anger and sharp; there was no talking with them, and no chance even to put a question. The instant they saw him, the enraged monkeys had seized him, struck him with their fists, and torn out his feathers. Then he told what he had learned: that Rama, the slayer of Viradha and Kabandha and Khara, had come with Sugriva, having traced Sita out. They had bridged the ocean, crossed the salt sea, and camped here, bows in hand, holding the demons as nothing. Thousands of armies of bears and monkeys, like mountains and clouds, covered the earth. Shuka laid out two courses only: either Sita be returned, or battle be given.

Hearing this, Ravana’s eyes reddened with rage, and he said that even if the gods and gandharvas and danavas together made war on him, he would not give Sita back, not out of fear of all the worlds. He boasted of his own might: of when his arrows would run toward Rama as bees run toward a tree in spring flower, and of when he would sear Rama’s blood-drenched body with burning shafts as a torch scorches an elephant. His speed, he said, was that of the sea and his strength that of the wind; Rama did not know this, and so wished for war. He called his bow a vina played with the corners of arrows, whose three notes were the twang of the string, the cries of the wounded, and the singing of the shafts. Not thousand-eyed Indra, he claimed, nor Varuna, nor Yama, nor Vaishravana Kubera could defeat him in a great battle.

The gist: The moment he crossed the bridge, Rama stood before Lanka; reading the omens, he set the army in a watchful array and released the captured envoy Shuka. But Ravana threw back the offer to give up Sita and answered with a proud challenge.

The spying of Shuka and Sarana, and Rama’s mercy

Rama had crossed the sea with his army; and now the lord Ravana said to his two ministers Shuka and Sarana that the monkeys had brought their all but impassable host across the ocean, and that Rama’s bridging of the sea was a thing never done before. He could not believe a bridge could be flung across the ocean, and so he ordered the two of them to take the form of monkeys, slip unnoticed into the army, learn its true size and valor, its chief monkeys, the ministers and captains of Rama and Sugriva, and the resolve, the prowess, and the weapons of Rama and Lakshmana, all exactly as they were, and return at once.

At his order the two demon heroes entered the army in monkey shape, but the host was so beyond thought, so hair-raising, that they could not even count it. It spread over mountain peaks, streams, caves, sea shores, forests, and groves; some of it had crossed the sea, some was crossing, some stood ready to cross. The two night-rangers were still gazing at that unshakable ocean of strength with its terrible roar when the mighty Vibhishana knew them under their disguise, seized them, and brought them before Rama, saying that these were Ravana’s ministers Shuka and Sarana, come from Lanka as spies. Frightened, giving up hope of their lives, the two demons folded their hands and said: gentle Raghava, sent by Ravana, we two came to learn the whole strength of your army.

Hearing them, Rama, who wishes the good of all beings, smiled and said that if they had seen the whole army, seen him well, and done their master’s errand, they were free to return as they pleased; and if anything remained unseen, Vibhishana would show them all of the Lanka force again. He reassured them that they need not fear for their lives in this capture, since envoys taken while carrying no weapons are not fit to be killed. Then Rama had the two night-rangers released by the monkeys, though they were spies forever busy sowing division in the enemy camp.

Rama bade them carry this word to Ravana: let Ravana, with his army and his kinsmen, show as he pleased the strength on which he had trusted when he carried Sita off; tomorrow at dawn he would see the city, with its walls and archways, and the strength of the demons, brought down by arrows, and Rama would loose his terrible anger on Ravana and his host as Indra looses the thunderbolt on the danavas. The two demons cried “Victory to you” and returned to Lanka, and told Ravana that Vibhishana had seized them to be killed, but the righteous Rama had let them go. They warned Ravana that Rama, Lakshmana, Vibhishana, and the mighty Sugriva, four heroes like the guardians of the worlds, stood together in one place, and that Rama alone, with his form and his weapons, could tear Lanka up and carry it elsewhere. Their counsel was to give up the quarrel, make peace, and return Sita, daughter of Mithila, to Rama.

The gist: Ravana’s spies Shuka and Sarana were caught by Vibhishana, but Rama honored the law that protects an envoy and set them free; returning, they told Ravana of the invincibility of Rama’s side and advised peace.

From the palace roof, Sarana names the monkey chiefs

Hearing Sarana’s true and unfaltering words, King Ravana said that even if gods and gandharvas and danavas fell on him together, he would not give up Sita, not out of fear of all the worlds; gentle Sarana had only been unnerved by his beating at the monkeys’ hands, and so thought it right to hand Sita over this very day. “What enemy can beat me in battle?” he said harshly, and climbed a palace high as many palm trees and pale as snow, to look on the monkey army. Gazing over the sea, the mountains, and the woods, he saw the earth thick with monkeys; and looking on that boundless, unbearable strength, he asked Sarana who among them were the chiefs, the brave, the mighty ones, whose counsel Sugriva heeded, and who were the leaders of the leaders of the bands.

Sarana, who knew the chiefs, answered. He said that the monkey who stood facing Lanka and roaring, ringed by a hundred thousand band-leaders, at whose voice the whole city with its walls and gateways shuddered, was Nila, a chief posted at the front of great Sugriva’s army. The one who paced the ground with his arms raised, yawning again and again in anger, tall as a mountain peak and bright as the filament of a lotus, lashing his tail so that its sound rang through all ten quarters, was the crown prince Angada, challenging Ravana to war; a match for Vali, dear to Sugriva, as mighty for Rama’s sake as Varuna is for Indra’s. Then Sarana counted off many leaders: Nala the bridge-builder; Kumuda, once king of the Sanrochana mountain on the banks of the Gomati; Rambha, lord of the langurs; Chanda, a monkey who never quailed; the blazing, serpent-bright chief who ruled on Sanrochana; Sharabha of the Salveya mountain, who had no fear of death; Vinata, who drank the water of the Vena river and stood on the shore like a second ocean, a match for Dardura; Krodhana, lord of six million monkeys; and Gavaya, of an ochre hue, who kept his body strong and held everyone else as nothing.

A key to understanding (the numbers): The figures Sarana gives (a hundred thousand, a crore, six million band-leaders) belong to Valmiki’s grand manner. They are there to paint the unthinkable reach of the army, and not to keep an exact count. In modern terms read them as countless divisions upon divisions of troops.

At the end Sarana said that these fierce heroes, best among captains, past all counting, were each the lord of an army parceled into its own division.

The gist: Throwing back the advice to give up Sita, Ravana climbed his palace, and Sarana laid out for him at length the strength and the temper of the monkey chiefs, Nila, Angada, Nala, Kumuda, Rambha, Sharabha, Vinata, Krodhana, Gavaya, and the rest.

Sarana describes the remaining chiefs and the bear host

Sarana went on: now let me speak, he said, of the chiefs who would not spare even their lives for Rama. The one whose long tail carries sleek hairs, coppery, yellow, white, and gray, glinting like the rays of the sun and trailing over the ground, is the grim-deeded monkey Hara; behind him march hundreds and thousands of followers with trees held high. And those, black as collyrium, true in their valor, seeming as numberless as the sands of the far sea, are the bears, dwellers on mountains and plains and river banks, terrible beyond measure. Among them stands their leader Dhumra, of dreadful eyes and dreadful mien, overlord of all the bears, who lives on the Rikshavan mountain and drinks the water of the Narmada.

He named Dhumra’s younger brother Jambavan, a chief even of the great chiefs, calm, obedient to his elders, hard to endure in battle; who in the war of gods and demons had given great help to Indra, with his hairy soldiers like ogres and goblins who could hurl boulders like choice arrows; and Dambha, valiant as Indra, who served the thousand-eyed god; and Sannadana, grandsire of the monkeys, who could brush a full yojana of height with his body, and who once gave Indra battle and was not beaten; and Krathana, born of fire in a gandharva woman, who never boasted in war and delights on Kailasa; and Pramathi, who harried the elephants on the banks of the Ganges and nurses an old feud; and Gavaksha, ringed by a crore of langurs; and Kesari, best of monkey chiefs, who delights on Mount Sumeru. He said that on the last peaks of sixty thousand golden mountains dwell monkeys with sharp teeth and claws for weapons, unapproachable as lions and tigers, like fire, blazing as venomous snakes; and their lord, O sinless one, stands as high among them as you among the demons.

Among these is the hero Shatabali, dear to Rama, who worships the sun each day and longs for victory. Then there are the monkeys named Gaja, Gavaksha, Gavaya, Nala, and Nila, each ringed by ten crore warriors; and many more high monkeys who dwell on the Vindhya mountain, past counting for their quickness and their numbers. All of them, said Sarana, have great power and bodies like great mountains, and could in a moment flatten the earth with its mountains.

The gist: Sarana described Hara, Dhumra, Jambavan, Dambha, Sannadana, Pramathi, Gavaksha, Kesari, Shatabali, and the rest, and the dread bear host, telling Ravana that this force was mountain-huge and beyond counting.

Shuka completes the account

When Sarana fell silent, Shuka said to Ravana that these were all ministers of Sugriva of Kishkindha, born of gods and gandharvas and able to take what shape they willed. The two youths who stood there in the form of gods were Mainda and Dvivida; in war none was their equal, and by Brahma’s leave the two had drunk the nectar of immortality. Shuka gave the number of the demon foes as twenty-one thousand crore, a thousand shankus, and a hundred vrindas. Then he pointed to the monkey who stood like a rutting elephant, who when angered could churn even the ocean, the one who had earlier come to Lanka in search of Sita and of Ravana himself: Hanuman. Shuka told his tale, of how in his boyhood a hungry Hanuman had made a leap of three thousand yojanas to swallow the rising sun; how, failing to reach the sun that is beyond the gods and sages and demons, he fell upon the mountain of sunrise. Striking the rock, one of his jaws was set a little apart, and grew the harder for it, and from this he became famous as Hanuman. It was this same Hanuman, Shuka said, who had burned Lanka with the fire of his tail; how had Ravana forgotten it?

A sub-tale: By Shuka’s account, the infant Hanuman saw the rising sun as a piece of fruit and sprang into the sky to eat it. Unable to reach the sun, he fell on the eastern mountain, and one of his jaws (hanu) struck a rock and was left a little crooked and very hard; from that distinctive jaw came his name, Hanuman.

Shuka gave the measure of Rama and Lakshmana too: Rama of the Ikshvaku line, a great chariot-warrior, dark, lion-bodied, lotus-eyed, master of the Brahma weapon and of the Vedas, who could split the sky with his arrows and cleave the earth, whose anger is like death and whose prowess is like Indra’s, whose wife Sita was carried off by Ravana from Janasthana; that same Rama was coming to war. At Rama’s right side stood Lakshmana, of pure gold color, broad-chested, copper-eyed, with dark curling hair, skilled in statecraft and in war, best of all who bear arms, Rama’s right arm and the very life of him that walks outside his body. At Rama’s left, ringed by the bands of demons, stood the king Vibhishana, whom Rama had consecrated king of Lanka. In the middle, unmoving as a mountain, bright with a golden garland, stood Sugriva, to whom Rama, having killed Vali, had given that garland, and Tara, and the lasting kingship of the monkeys.

A key to understanding (the scale of the numbers): Shuka names technical figures, shanku, vrinda, mahavrinda, padma, kharva, samudra, ogha. A hundred thousand times a hundred is a crore; a lakh of crores is a shanku; and so on, each next unit a hundred thousand times the last. This is the old Indian scale of names for great numbers, like today’s chain of billion and trillion.

Shuka said that Sugriva, ringed by so vast a strength, by thousands of shankus, hundreds of vrindas, by padmas and kharvas, by samudras and mahaughas past all count, and by the hero Vibhishana and his own ministers, was moving to war behind Rama. He counseled Ravana to look carefully on this army that had come like a blazing planet, and now to make his utmost effort, so that victory might be theirs and no defeat come from the foe.

The gist: Shuka named Mainda and Dvivida, told the boyhood feat and the naming of Hanuman, and gave the measure of Rama, Lakshmana, Vibhishana, and Sugriva, completing the picture of an enemy host countless yet unconquerable, and warned Ravana to make a careful effort.

Ravana’s anger, and the sending of Shardula and the other spies

Looking on the monkey chiefs Shuka had shown him, the great hero Lakshmana, Vibhishana, the fierce Sugriva, mighty Angada, Hanuman, Jambavan, Sushena, Kumuda, Nila, Nala, Gaja, Gavaksha, Sharabha, Mainda, and Dvivida, Ravana’s heart grew somewhat shaken, and then he flew into a rage. At the end of the account, in a voice choked with fury, he turned on Shuka and Sarana where they stood with bowed heads and rebuked them: it did not become them to praise the enemy; his service to teachers, gurus, and elders had gone to waste, since he had not grasped the pith of the science of kingship; kept by such foolish ministers, he ruled his kingdom only by good luck. Only because they had no fear of death, he said, could they speak such harsh words; men punished by the royal rod do not come away untouched, as trees are not spared. Yet, remembering their past services, he did not put them to death, and ordered them only out of his sight.

Then Ravana said to Mahodara that fresh spies should be brought at once. At his word Mahodara at once produced spies, who stood with folded hands wishing him victory. Ravana said to those trusted, brave, steady, fearless spies that they should test the resolve and the plan of Rama and his close ministers, how he slept and woke, what he meant to do that day, and learn all of it to the least detail and return; for a wise king, learning through spies the strength and weakness of his foe, overcomes him with little effort.

Saying “So be it,” the spies put Shardula at their head, walked in respect around Ravana, and set out for the region of Mount Suvela, where Rama was with Lakshmana. In disguise they saw Rama and Lakshmana with Sugriva and Vibhishana. Looking on that army, they were unmanned with fear, and just then the righteous Vibhishana knew them. The demons standing there were suddenly seized by Vibhishana; “this one is a sinner,” he said, and pointed out only Shardula by name. Yet even Shardula, as the monkeys beat him, Rama had set free, and the merciful Rama released the other demons too. Battered by the nimble monkeys, gasping and half-senseless, those demons returned to Lanka and told Ravana that Rama’s great strength lay encamped near Mount Suvela.

The gist: Angered at the praise of the enemy, Ravana rebuked Shuka and Sarana and drove them off, and sent fresh spies under Shardula; caught by Vibhishana and freed by Rama, they came back with word of the camp on Suvela.

Shardula names the leading monkey chiefs

The spies told Ravana that Raghava lay encamped on Mount Suvela with his unshakable army. Hearing that mighty Rama had come, Ravana grew somewhat uneasy and asked Shardula why his color was so changed and his face so downcast; had he fallen into the power of the angry foe? Shaken with fear, Shardula answered in a low voice that those monkey bulls could not be spied on at all, for they were bold, strong, and shielded by Raghava; there was no talking with them, and every path around was guarded by monkeys like mountains. The instant he entered he had been known, seized by force, beaten with knees and fists and teeth and slaps, and dragged through the army; at last, bleeding and reeling, he had been brought before Rama’s assembly, where, when he pleaded as the monkeys struck him, Rama had saved him with the words, “Stop, stop.”

Shardula said that Rama, having filled the great sea with mountain rocks, stood armed at the gate of Lanka; that he had ranged his forces in the formation of Garuda and, ringed by monkeys, was moving from that place toward Lanka; and so, before he reached the wall, either Sita should be returned or battle given. Ravana again repeated his old vow, that even if gods and gandharvas and danavas made war on him he would not give Sita up, and asked whose sons and grandsons those fearsome monkeys were, how great their power, all told exactly as it stood; for a man who wishes war must first reckon the strength and weakness of his foe.

Shardula gave the birth and lineage of the chiefs: Sugriva, unconquerable, son of Riksharaja; Jambavan, known as the son of Gadgada (through his fosterer); Dhumra, Gadgada’s other son; Kesari, whose son Hanuman had alone made havoc of the demons; the righteous Sushena, son of Dharma; Dadhimukha, son of Soma; Sumukha, Durmukha, and Vegadarshi, like death itself; the young Angada, grandson of Indra through his daughter; Mainda and Dvivida, sons of the Ashvins; and the five sons of Yama, Gaja, Gavaksha, Gavaya, Sharabha, and Gandhamadana. He said there were ten crore such brave monkeys, sons of gods, and that the rest could not be counted. Then he gave the measure of the young, lion-framed Rama, who had killed Dushana, Khara, Trishira, Viradha, and Kabandha who was like death, and whose match in prowess walked nowhere on earth. The general Nila was son of Fire, Hanuman son of the Wind, Shveta and Jyotirmukha sons of the Sun, Hemakuta son of Varuna, Nala son of Vishvakarma, and Durdhara son of the Vasus; and the best of the demons, Ravana’s own brother Vibhishana, having received Lanka from Rama as a gift, was set on Rama’s good. Shardula said that he had told, just as it was, the whole monkey force posted on Suvela; now let Ravana himself decide what remained to be done.

A key to understanding (the idea): In the Balakanda and in this canto some monkey chiefs are given different fathers (Sushena, Sharabha, Gandhamadana among them). The commentators resolve this by saying there must have been different monkeys of the same name. It is a clarification from the later tradition of exegesis.

The gist: Taken captive while spying, Shardula gave Ravana the divine births of the monkey chiefs and the true measure of the strength of Rama, Lakshmana, and Vibhishana, and left the decision to Ravana.

Ravana’s illusion, and the false head shown to Sita

Learning that Rama had settled on Suvela, the troubled Ravana called his ministers and took counsel. Then, dismissing them, he went into his own quarters, and taking with him the mighty, master illusionist Vidyujjihva, a demon skilled in maya, he came to where Maithili was. He told Vidyujjihva that they would beguile the daughter of Janaka with an illusion; let him come forward bearing an illusory head of Raghava and a great bow with an arrow. Saying “So be it,” Vidyujjihva showed that well-wrought illusion, and the pleased Ravana gave him an ornament.

Eager to see Sita, Ravana came into the Ashoka grove, where Sita, wretched yet undeserving of wretchedness, sat on the ground with bowed face, sunk in grief, thinking of her husband, ringed by dreadful ogresses. Coming near and naming himself, Ravana said with insolence that the husband Rama, slayer of Khara, on whose strength she had gone on scorning him, had been killed in battle; his roots were cut and his pride broken. He said that with her husband dead she would now become his own wife; let the foolish woman give up this stubbornness. Then he told a grim tale like the slaying of Vritra: that Rama with his army had camped on the sea shore, and that in the night, as the weary host slept in comfort, a great demon army under Prahasta had destroyed it.

He gave a lying account: that the deft-handed Prahasta had cut off the sleeping Rama’s head with a great sword; that Vibhishana had been taken; that Lakshmana had fled with the army in all directions; that Sugriva’s neck was broken; that Hanuman had been killed, his jaw shattered; that Jambavan, Mainda, Dvivida, Panasa, Darimukha, Kumuda, Angada, and the rest had all been slain; that the bears had climbed the trees, and countless monkeys had been cut down on the shore, on the hills, and in the woods. So, he said, his army had destroyed Sita’s husband along with his host, and this head, wet with blood and fouled with dust, had been brought as proof. Then he called Vidyujjihva and had the fair head set before Sita, and said, let this wretched woman look well on the last state of her lord. The moment the head was set down, Vidyujjihva vanished. Ravana threw down that bright bow too, and said that this was the bow, famed in the three worlds, of Rama, which Prahasta had brought after killing that man in the night; and he told Sita to yield now to his power.

The gist: Shaken by the camp on Suvela, Ravana had the illusionist Vidyujjihva conjure a false severed head of Rama and his bow, set them before Sita, and told her the lie of Rama’s death to break her to his will.

Sita’s lament, and Ravana’s ordering of war

Looking on that head and that fine bow, remembering the meeting of Sugriva and Rama that Hanuman had told her of, and knowing it by the face and eyes and hair so like her husband’s, and by the bright crest-jewel, Sita grew heartbroken and, wailing like an osprey, began to curse Kaikeyi: let that quarrelsome Kaikeyi be satisfied now; the joy of the house was slain, the whole line laid waste. Trembling, the young ascetic woman fell to the earth like a cut plantain. In a moment she came to herself, and sitting by the head, that wide-eyed woman lamented: alas, I am undone; O hero of great arms and firm vows, I am made a widow. She said that for a wife to lose her husband first is called a fault in her; being of good conduct, he had passed away before her very eyes. Knowing the science of statecraft, skilled in warding off calamity, how had he met an unseen death; this is Time, the origin and the end of all beings.

Sita recalled the vow made at their marriage, to walk in dharma together, and asked to be taken to that same world with him; his fair body would now be dragged about by the flesh-eaters, and he would be denied even the fire rites, and Kausalya of the three would see only Lakshmana return. She told Ravana to lay her at once upon Rama and kill her, to join husband to wife, head to head and body to body, and she would follow the path of her noble husband. So, wrung with grief, that wide-eyed woman went on lamenting.

Just then a demon doorkeeper came to Ravana with folded hands, and crying “Victory to you, noble lord,” announced that the general Prahasta with all the ministers was present and wished to be seen. Hearing this, Ravana left the Ashoka grove and went to his ministers. Thinking his business through well with them, weighing Rama’s prowess, he entered the hall and there resolved on action against Rama. The moment he left, the illusory head and bow vanished. Taking counsel with his ministers of dreadful valor, Ravana said to his commanders, in words like death itself, that the armies should be quickly gathered by the beat of drums, but that the reason should not be told. Saying “So be it,” the messengers at once assembled a great army and reported to their war-eager lord that it stood gathered.

The gist: Knowing the head and the bow, Sita wailed a heart-piercing lament and begged for death beside her husband; meanwhile, at word of Prahasta’s coming, Ravana gathered up his illusion, went to the council hall, and had the army mustered in secret.

Sarama’s reassurance to Sita

Seeing Sita deceived, an ogress named Sarama, who was Sita’s loving friend, came to her. (By the commentators Sarama is Vibhishana’s wife, and faithful to Sita.) Set by Ravana’s order to guard her, tender-hearted and firm in her vows, Sarama had become Sita’s friend. Seeing Sita risen from rolling in the dust, soiled like a mare, half-senseless, the soft-spoken Sarama comforted her with a friend’s love: “Vaidehi, take courage; let there be no anguish in your heart. All that Ravana said and all that you answered I heard out of a friend’s love, hidden in a lonely thicket, casting off fear of Ravana. I have no fear of Ravana.

Sarama said that Rama, who knows his own soul, could not be killed in his sleep, nor could that tiger among men be killed at all; the monkeys who fight with trees could not be killed either, for they are guarded by Rama as the gods are guarded by Indra. She said she had seen Rama with Lakshmana, of long, rounded arms and broad chest, glorious, righteous, of might beyond thought; he was not slain. It was the cruel, illusion-wielding Ravana, foe of every being, who had worked this deceit on Sita; but in truth good fortune waited on her. Rama with the monkey army had crossed the sea and camped on the southern shore, and it was the demons themselves who had brought word that Raghava had crossed; over this Ravana was even now taking counsel with his ministers.

Just then Sarama heard the fearful noise of an army arming for war. The sweet-voiced Sarama said to Sita that this was the drum that heralds the arming, the war-drum; listen to the clang of bells, the rattle of chariots, the neigh of horses, and the sound of trumpets. Rutting elephants are being caparisoned, horses yoked to chariots, and thousands of lance-bearing riders are seen; the highways are filling with armies of wondrous aspect, with the many-colored gleam of weapon and shield and mail. She said that Shri, the destroyer of grief, was worshiping Sita, and that fear had come upon the demons; that Rama, lotus-petal-eyed, master of his anger, of prowess beyond thought, would kill Ravana in battle and win Sita back, as Indra conquered the daityas. Rama with Lakshmana would show such valor against the demons as Indra with Vishnu against the foes. With the enemy slain, she said, she would see the fulfilled Sita in Rama’s lap; Rama would soon loosen the single braid Sita had worn for so many months, and Sita, looking on Rama’s face like the full moon, would cast off the water of her grief as a serpent-woman casts off her slough. At the last Sarama told Sita to take refuge in the Sun-god who circles Meru, the source of the joys and sorrows of all creatures.

The gist: Sarama, Vibhishana’s wife, reassured Sita that the head was Ravana’s illusion, that Rama lived and was unconquerable, and that the war-drums of the arming signaled Sita’s own good fortune and the demons’ fear.

Ravana’s resolve, which Sarama brings to Sita

So Sarama gladdened Sita, scorched by Ravana’s words, as rain-water refreshes a burning ground. Then, wishing her friend well, knowing the time, smiling as she spoke, Sarama said at the fitting moment that if Sita wished, she could go to Rama, tell him Sita’s message and her welfare, and return unseen; flying through the sky without support, her course could not be followed even by the wind or by Garuda. Weighed down by her old grief, Sita answered in a sweet, gentle voice that Sarama was able to travel to the sky and to the underworld, and so she wished to know what Ravana was doing now, and whatever had been decided about her release or her holding; let Sarama tell her all of it, and it would be a great kindness. She said that the illusion-wielding, cruel Ravana had beguiled her as if with a draught of wine; she was made ever afraid and threatened by dreadful ogresses, and even living in the Ashoka grove she stayed troubled and full of dread.

Wiping Sita’s tear-drenched face, Sarama said that if this was her wish, she would go and learn the enemy’s mind. So saying, she went near Ravana and heard the talk of Ravana and his ministers about setting Sita free or holding her. Learning the mind of that wicked one, she returned quickly to the fair Ashoka grove, where Sita, like Lakshmi without her lotus, was waiting for her. Seeing the kind-speaking Sarama return, Sita embraced her with love, gave her her own seat, and asked her to sit at ease and tell, just as it was, the decision of that wicked Ravana.

To the trembling Sita’s question Sarama told all the counsel of Ravana: that Ravana’s mother Kaikasi and one very loving old minister had given him a long counsel to give up Sita, that Sita should be returned to King Rama with honor; that the wonder wrought at Janasthana, and Hanuman’s leap across the sea, his sight of Sita, and his slaying of demons, were opening enough for the eyes, for what man could do such things. But for all the pleading of the old ministers and his mother, Ravana was no readier to give up Sita than a miser to give up his wealth; his resolve was that he would give up Sita only by dying in battle, and not before. Sarama said this fixed will had come upon him out of a longing for death; until he was beaten in war by the slaughter of all the demons and of himself, he would not give up Sita even out of fear, and Rama would kill Ravana with his sharp arrows and carry Sita to Ayodhya. Just then the sound of all the monkey armies, filling the air with drum and conch, shaking the earth, was heard. Hearing it, Ravana’s servants in Lanka lost their spirit and grew wretched, and through the king’s fault they saw no good before them.

The gist: At Sita’s urging Sarama listened to the council and reported that, though his mother and the old ministers pleaded, Ravana would not give up Sita till his dying breath; at that very moment the fearsome roar of the monkey army sank the demons’ hearts.

Malyavan’s counsel to make peace

Amid that clamor of drums mixed with conches, Rama of the great arms, conqueror of enemy cities, moved on toward Lanka. Hearing the sound, the demon lord Ravana stood a moment in thought and then looked toward his ministers. Then, addressing all his counselors, filling the hall with his voice, blaming no one, he said that he had heard all they had told of Rama’s crossing of the sea, his prowess, his strength and manhood; and he knew that all of them, true in their valor in war, were sitting silent, looking at one another, since they had learned Rama’s prowess.

Then the very wise demon Malyavan, Ravana’s maternal grandfather, hearing his words, said that the king who is versed in the fourteen sciences and follows sound policy enjoys lordship long and keeps his foes in check; making peace or war as the time asks, and strengthening his own side, such a king wins great dominion. A king weaker than or equal to his foe should make peace; he should not slight the enemy, and should make war only when he is the stronger. He said that peace with Rama pleased him: let Sita, for whom Rama had come, be given back to Rama; the celestial sages and the gandharvas all wished Rama victory, and so Ravana should not set himself against him.

Malyavan set out the doctrine of dharma and adharma: that Brahma made two sides, of gods and of demons, whose refuges are dharma and adharma; dharma is the side of the immortal great ones, and adharma of the demons and asuras. In the age of truth dharma swallows adharma, and in the age of strife adharma swallows dharma. He said that ranging through the worlds Ravana had struck down great dharma and taken up adharma, and so the enemy who lean on dharma were strong; the serpent of adharma, grown by his heedlessness, was now devouring them, while the dharma practiced by the gods was swelling the side of the gods in the form of the monkeys who are the sons of the gods.

He said that Ravana, sunk in pleasures and doing as he willed, had brought great distress on the sages who are like fire; those sages, their souls formed by penance, are hard to face as blazing flame; worshiping with the chief sacrifices, offering duly in the fire, chanting the Vedas aloud, they overpower the demons, and hearing their sacred chant the demons scatter to the quarters like the clouds of the hot season; the smoke of their fire offerings, spreading through all ten quarters, robs the demons of their vigor. He reminded Ravana that he had asked for the boon of safety from gods and danavas and yakshas, but that men, monkeys, bears, and langurs, firm in valor and of great strength, had come here and were roaring.

Malyavan said that he had seen many dread portents that showed the ruin of all the demons: clouds of grating, terrible thunder rained hot blood upon Lanka; tears fell from the eyes of weeping mounts; the quarters, soiled with dust, were dim; flesh-eaters and jackals and vultures gathered in the gardens with fearful cries; women with black teeth and yellow skin laughed aloud as they plundered houses in dreams; dogs ate the offerings of the gods; asses were born of cows and mice of mongooses; cats mated with leopards, pigs with dogs, kinnaras with demons and men; white doves with red feet flew about at the urging of Time, marking the ruin of the demons; mynas sitting in the houses, worsted by quarrelsome birds, fell down; beasts and birds wept toward the sun; and a black-and-tawny figure of Time, of grim face and shaven head, looked again and again into every house.

At the last Malyavan said that they held Rama to be Vishnu in the form of a man; the firm-striding Raghava who had bridged the sea with that most wondrous causeway could not be merely a man; so let peace be made with Rama, king of men, and what would be good for the future be done with ripe thought. Having spoken these words for Ravana’s good, and having read Ravana’s mind, the strong Malyavan fell silent, watching him.

The gist: His grandfather Malyavan, citing statecraft, the law of dharma and adharma, and the dire omens over Lanka, urged Ravana to make peace with Rama and give up Sita, and, calling Rama a Vishnu in the shape of a man, fell silent.

Ravana’s scorn for Malyavan, and the guarding of the gates

Fallen into the power of Time, the wicked ten-faced Ravana could not bear Malyavan’s helpful words. With his brows knit and his eyes rolling in anger, he said that the harsh words Malyavan spoke, going over to the enemy’s side in the guise of counsel, did not enter his ears. He asked on what ground Malyavan held that lowly man Rama, cast out by his father, sheltered by monkeys, taking refuge in the forest, to be strong and armed with every prowess, and held himself, lord of the demons, terrible even to the gods, to be lesser. He suspected that only out of hatred for the brave, or partiality for the enemy, or the goading of the enemy, could such harsh words be spoken to him; for what learned man, knowing the truths of the scriptures, speaks harsh words unprompted to a lord seated in power.

Ravana said that Sita, brought from the forest, like Lakshmi without her lotus, why should he give her back for fear of Rama. In a few days, he said, let them see Rama with Sugriva and Lakshmana killed by him among a crore of monkeys; before whom the very gods do not stand firm in battle, whom would that Ravana fear in war? He described his own nature: he might break, but he would not bow before anyone; that was his native, unswerving temper. He said that even if Rama had by chance bridged the sea, what wonder in it that Malyavan should be afraid; he swore a true oath that Rama, come across the sea with his monkey army, would not return alive.

Knowing Ravana bent on war and angry, the shamed Malyavan gave no answer; blessing the king with fitting words of victory and taking his leave, he returned to his own home. Then Ravana, with his ministers, took counsel and set the defense of Lanka. He posted the demon Prahasta at the eastern gate; at the southern gate the mighty Mahaparshva and Mahodara; at the western gate his son Indrajit, master of illusion, ringed by many demons; and at the northern gate Shuka and Sarana, saying that he too would go there himself. At the central post he set the valiant Virupaksha with many demons. Ordering Lanka so, driven by Time, that bull of the demons held himself all but done with his task. Commanding a full guard for the city, he dismissed his ministers, and, honored by their blessings of victory, entered his rich and spacious inner palace.

The gist: Ravana threw back Malyavan’s counsel and declared his proud nature, then posted Prahasta, Mahaparshva, Mahodara, Indrajit, Shuka, Sarana, and Virupaksha at the gates and the center, and withdrew to his inner palace.

Vibhishana’s word on the gates, and Rama’s order of battle

Come into the enemy’s country, King Rama gathered together with Sugriva king of the monkeys, Hanuman son of the Wind, Jambavan king of the bears, Vibhishana the demon, Angada son of Vali, Lakshmana son of Sumitra, Sharabha, Sushena with his kin, Mainda, Dvivida, Gaja, Gavaksha, Kumuda, Nala, and Panasa, and they all took counsel with one another. Vibhishana said that yonder stood the city of Lanka, guarded by Ravana, unconquerable even to asuras and nagas and gandharvas and immortals, where the demon lord Ravana was ever present; so let them take counsel with the aim of success in view and reach a decision.

Wishing to please Rama, Vibhishana spoke to the lotus-petal-eyed Rama in words plain and to the point: that his four ministers, Anala, Panasa, Sampati, and Pramati, had entered Lanka in the shape of birds and returned after seeing Ravana’s dispositions with their own eyes. He told it exactly: at the eastern gate stood Prahasta with his army; at the southern gate the mighty Mahaparshva and Mahodara; at the western gate Ravana’s son Indrajit, ringed by many demons bearing spike, sword, bow, lance, and mallet; and at the northern gate Ravana himself, deeply anxious and skilled in counsel, with thousands of armed demons. At the central post stood Virupaksha, of great strength, with demons bearing lance, sword, and bow.

Vibhishana gave the count of the army: ten thousand elephants, ten thousand chariots, twenty thousand horses, and more than a crore of demon foot; those night-rangers were bold, strong, cruel in battle, and dear to Ravana, and behind each of these chiefs stood a company of ten hundred thousand. He said that this report was meant to bring Rama neither dismay nor anger, but only to hearten him, since Rama could subdue the very gods by his valor; so, like Ravana, let Rama set his monkey host in array and grind down Ravana ringed by his fourfold army. He reminded Rama too that when Ravana had fought Kubera, sixty lakh demons had gone out with him, equal to the wicked Ravana himself in prowess, valor, splendor, and vigor, and only through his pride.

At Vibhishana’s word Raghava gave his order for the assault on the foe: at the eastern gate of Lanka, let the monkey bull Nila with many monkeys fight Prahasta; at the southern gate, let Angada son of Vali with a great force check and drive back Mahaparshva and Mahodara; at the western gate, let the boundless-souled Hanuman with many monkeys crush his way in; and Rama himself with the mighty Lakshmana would press in at the northern gate, where Ravana stood with his army, for he was bent on the killing of that vile lord of demons. He told the mighty Sugriva, the valiant Jambavan, and Vibhishana, the demon lord’s brother, to stand at the central post.

Rama laid down a rule of recognition as well, that the monkeys must never take human form in the battle; in this war the monkey shape would be the mark of one’s own people, and only seven, Rama himself, the mighty Lakshmana, and their friend Vibhishana as the fifth along with his four ministers, would fight the enemy in human form. So, having spoken to Vibhishana for the success of the work, and looking on the lovely slope of Mount Suvela, the wise lord Rama resolved to climb Suvela; and covering all the earth with his great army, taking the vow to slay the foe, that noble one moved on toward Lanka in high delight.

The gist: On the report of the spy ministers, Vibhishana told Ravana’s gate defenses and the count of his army; Rama posted Nila at the east, Angada at the south, Hanuman at the west, himself at Ravana’s gate, made the rule of the monkey form, and moved to climb Suvela.

The climb up Suvela, and the sight of Lanka

Having resolved to climb Suvela, Rama, with Lakshmana behind him, said to Vibhishana, the night-ranger who knows dharma and is devoted and versed in counsel and rule, and to Sugriva, in a gentle, fine voice, that they should all climb this lord of mountains, Suvela, painted with hundreds of minerals, and pass this night upon it; from there they could see Lanka, the seat of Ravana, that Ravana who in his folly had carried off Rama’s wife to his own death. He said that at the very name of that vilest of demons anger rose in him, one who knew neither dharma nor good conduct nor lineage, and of base mind had done this loathsome deed; through that base one’s crime he would see the slaughter of all the demons. He said that one man, bound in the noose of Time, does the sin, and by his misdeed a whole house is destroyed.

Taking such angry counsel against Ravana, Rama climbed Suvela of the wondrous peaks to dwell there. Composed, his strung bow raised, set on valor, Lakshmana followed close. Behind them came Sugriva with his vassal ministers and Vibhishana, and Hanuman, Angada, Nila, Mainda, Dvivida, Gaja, Gavaksha, Gavaya, Sharabha, Gandhamadana, Panasa, Kumuda, Hara, the chief Rambha, Jambavan, Sushena, the wise Rishabha, the mighty Durmukha, and the monkey Shatabali; these and many other swift monkeys, borne on the speed of the wind, mountain-rangers, climbed Suvela in their hundreds. In a little while, having climbed from every side, they saw from the peak the city that seemed to hang in the sky. The monkey chiefs saw fair Lanka, adorned with fine gates and a fine wall, filled with demons, and on the wall they saw the ranked blue demons like a second wall.

Looking on the war-eager demons, all the monkeys, in Rama’s sight, raised cries of many kinds. Just then the sun, dyed with the evening light, went down, and a night lit by the full moon came on. Welcomed and honored with joy by Vibhishana, with Lakshmana and the bands of chiefs, Rama took his rest at ease on the ridge of Suvela.

The gist: Rama climbed Suvela with Lakshmana, Vibhishana, Sugriva, and hundreds of monkey chiefs, saw Lanka thick with demons, raised the war-cry at the war-eager foe, and passed the moonlit night on the peak.

The monkeys enter the groves, and Rama beholds Lanka

Having passed that night on Suvela, the brave monkey chiefs looked on the woods and groves of Lanka, level, gentle, lovely, wide, and delightful to the eye, and stood amazed. Full of champak, ashoka, bakula, sal, and palm, covered with tamala woods, ringed with rows of nagakesara, Lanka shone on every side like Amaravati, bright with flowering hintala, arjuna, nipa, and saptaparna, and gay with tilaka, karnikara, and patala, their tips in flower, wrapped in vines, laden with strange blossoms and soft red shoots. The unmoving trees there bore fragrant, most lovely flowers and fruit as men wear ornaments.

Like Chaitraratha and like Nandana, that chief grove, lovely in every season and thronged with bees, was bright with the datyuha, the koyashti, the crane, and dancing peacocks; through those woods, full of streams, rang the notes of the cuckoo. Into those woods and groves, thronged with ever-eager birds, ranged by bees, loud with cuckoos, echoing with the song of the bhringaraja and the cry of the osprey, the joyful, glad monkeys entered as they willed; and a breeze, made fragrant by the touch of the flowers, blew sweet to the sense of smell. By Sugriva’s leave the other chiefs pressed on toward banner-bright Lanka, terrifying the birds, unsettling the deer and elephants, shaking Lanka with their cries, trampling the earth with their great speed; and the dust raised by the beat of their feet suddenly rose and spread above. At that sound bears, lions, buffaloes, elephants, deer, and birds fled to all ten quarters.

One tall, sky-touching peak of Trikuta, covered all over with flowers, gleaming like silver, a hundred yojanas wide, spotless, fair to see, smooth, glorious, and vast, hard even for birds to reach and hard to climb even in thought, on that very peak stood Lanka, guarded by Ravana. Ten yojanas broad and twenty yojanas long, the city was bright with high gate-towers white as clouds and with ramparts of gold and silver; adorned with palaces and seven-storied mansions, Lanka looked like clouds hemming in the middle region of the sky. There a palace pillared with a thousand pillars rose like the peak of Kailasa and seemed to touch the sky, the demon lord’s own hall, always guarded by a hundred mailed demons, the very ornament of the city.

The elder brother of Lakshmana, the glorious, fortunate Rama, looked with the monkeys on that rich, well-endowed golden city of Ravana, charming, bright with mineral-painted hills and gardens, loud with many birds, haunted by many deer, rich with many flowers, and peopled with many demons. Looking on the city crowded with great houses, like the third heaven, the valiant Rama was struck with wonder. With his great army he surveyed that city full of gems, of many contrivances, adorned with rows of palaces, its main gate fitted with great engines and doors.

A key to understanding (the place): Lanka is said to stand on a sky-touching peak of Mount Trikuta. Its measures differ in two places in the text, here ten yojanas broad and twenty long, and elsewhere a hundred yojanas broad and thirty long. The commentators reconcile this by saying the measure here is only of the inner city (the “chief Lanka” where Ravana dwells), and not of the whole extent.

The gist: The monkeys came down from Suvela and entered Lanka’s flowering woods in joy, some pressing on toward the city; and Rama gazed in wonder on the rich city set on Trikuta’s peak, with its gold and silver ramparts and thousand-pillared palace.

The sight of Ravana from Suvela’s peak, and Sugriva’s single combat

Then Rama with Sugriva and the monkey bands climbed the front peak of Suvela, two yojanas around. Standing there a while, looking over all ten quarters, he saw Lanka well set on the lovely peak of Trikuta by Vishvakarma, bright with its charming woods. He saw the hard-to-face demon lord Ravana seated on the crest of a gate-tower, fanned on both sides with white chowries, bright under the parasol of victory, smeared with red sandal, decked with jeweled ornaments, dark as a blue cloud, in golden raiment, bearing on his chest the scars made by the tusk-points of Airavata, wrapped in a red garment the color of hare’s blood, and looking like a bank of cloud in the sky flushed by the evening sun.

In the sight of the monkey chiefs and of Raghava himself, at the very sight of the demon lord Sugriva suddenly rose up. Filled with the rush of anger, with strength and vigor, he sprang from the mountain top and landed on the gate-tower. Standing a moment, looking on Ravana with a fearless soul, holding the demon as light as a straw, Sugriva spoke harsh words: “Demon, I am the friend and servant of Rama, lord of the worlds; by the might of that lord of earth you shall not escape my slaps today.” So saying, he leapt suddenly upon Ravana, seized his wondrous crown, and dashed it to the ground.

Seeing Sugriva come at him swiftly, the night-ranger Ravana said that only so long as Sugriva stayed out of his sight had his fair neck been his own; now, come into Ravana’s view, he would be left without a neck. So saying, Ravana rose and seized Sugriva in his arms and threw him to the ground; but bouncing up like a ball, Sugriva too lifted Ravana in his arms and dashed him to the earth. First their bodies grew wet with sweat as they crushed each other, then were streaked red with blood torn by sharp claws, and clinging together, motionless, they looked like a shalmali and a kimshuka tree grown into one. The mighty demon lord and the monkey king fell to a fierce and unbearable single combat with slaps, fists, blows of the elbow, and blows of the fingertips.

Grappling long on the platform of the gate-tower, tossing and crushing each other’s bodies again and again, the two, fierce in their speed, came step by step to the very edge of the platform. Pressing each other, their bodies locked, they fell together into the space between the wall and the moat, then, panting a moment, rose again to their feet. Embracing each other, full of fury, of skill and strength, binding each other with the ropes of their arms, they moved cleverly through the paths of battle, like two cats after their prey, or newly fanged tiger and lion, or two young bull elephants at war. Locked and knotted arm to arm, they fell together to the ground, then rose and, challenging each other, moved through the ways of battle; yet they did not tire. Fending each other off with arms fine as elephants’ trunks, like two rutting bulls of the herd, they fought long, and to slip each other’s grip they wheeled swiftly through the circling path.

Coming at each other, each bent on the other’s death, they broke off again and again, growling like cats over their prey. Skilled in the ways of war, the monkey king and Ravana wove strange circlings, various stances, and the crooked, cow-track paths of the gomutrika, feints and returns, oblique and winding moves; dodging blows, running, charging, springing, standing at guard in the grapple, turning and turning away, darting and leaping, they played all the many arts of war upon each other. Just then the lord of the monkeys knew that the demon was about to begin his powers of illusion; and Sugriva, having overcome fatigue, bright with the light of victory, sprang up into the sky, while Ravana, cheated of him, stood there.

Having won the glory of that combat, Sugriva, son of the Sun, lord of the monkey hosts, having set the demon lord to labor, crossed the vast sky and came back to Rama’s side in the midst of the monkey army. That deed done, swift as the wind, in high delight the monkey king entered the host, heightening the war-joy of the prince Rama, and honored by the chiefs of the trees and the beasts.

The gist: From Suvela’s peak Rama saw Ravana in his splendor on the gate-tower; in anger Sugriva leapt down, dashed off his crown, wrestled him long into exhaustion, and, before the illusion could begin, sprang away in victory back to Rama.

Rama’s counsel on Sugriva’s daring, and the siege of Lanka

Seeing the marks of the struggle on Sugriva’s body, Rama, the elder brother of Lakshmana, folded him in a close embrace and said: hero, you did this bold thing without taking counsel with us at all. Kings do not take such risks. Lover of daring that you are, you put us, this army, and Vibhishana standing here into peril with that grievous rashness. Tamer of foes, never do such a thing again. Had anything befallen you, great-armed one, we would have had no use for Sita, none for Bharata, Lakshmana, or Shatrughna, and none even for our own lives. Hero, a match for great Indra and Varuna, though we know your prowess, we had resolved that, before your return, we would kill Ravana with his sons and strength and mounts, set Vibhishana upon Lanka and Bharata upon the throne of Ayodhya, and then lay down our own body.

As Rama spoke so, Sugriva answered: Raghava, seeing Ravana, the ravisher of your wife, and knowing my own prowess, how could I bear it? Then, praising the hero Sugriva, who took his own words meekly, Rama said to the glorious Lakshmana: Lakshmana, let us stay in some place rich in clear water and fruited woods, and, dividing this host into divisions and setting it in array, keep our guard. A dread danger stands before us, one that betokens the ruin of the world and the death of the best of the bears, the monkeys, and the demons.

Rama counted the portents: the winds blow harsh, the earth quakes, the mountain peaks tremble and the guardian elephants of the quarters trumpet. Clouds harsh-voiced as flesh-eating beasts rain down showers mixed with drops of blood. The evening light shows red as sandal paste and most terrible, and this mass of burning fire is falling from the sun. Beasts and birds of wretched and dreadful voice cry out toward the sun, filling the world with great fear. Even by night the moon, robbed of its luster, gives off a heat as at the hour of dissolution, ringed in a black and red circle. Lakshmana, in the disk of the sun there is a small, sapless, ill-omened, blood-red aura and a dark stain; the stars are not seen clearly. All this seems like the end of an age for the world. Crows and hawks and vultures are falling low, and jackal-bitches speak ill-boding words. It seems that this ground, covered with the rocks and lances and swords hurled by monkeys and demons, will be turned to a morass of flesh and blood. So, Lakshmana, ringed on every side by monkeys, let us move fast and this very day against that unconquerable city of Lanka, guarded by Ravana.

So saying, the mighty Rama came down quickly from the mountain peak and reviewed his army, unconquerable to its foes. Knowing the hour, Raghava, with Sugriva, made the great monkey host of the king ready and, at an auspicious moment for battle, gave the order to advance. Ringed by the great army, Rama the archer moved forward, his face toward Lanka. At that time Vibhishana, Sugriva, Hanuman, Jambavan king of the bears, Nala, Nila, and Lakshmana followed close behind him. Behind them the great host of bears and monkeys came after Raghava, covering the wide earth. Monkeys strong as elephants took up hundreds of mountain peaks and huge trees in their hands.

In a little while those foe-taming brothers, Rama and Lakshmana, drew near to Ravana’s fair Lanka, bright with rows of banners, adorned with gardens and woods, ringed by a wondrous rampart, with high battlements and gateways, and all but impossible to reach. That city, unconquerable even to the gods, the monkeys, driven on by Rama’s order, held fast each in his own place, and laid siege. Rama the archer with his brother Lakshmana blocked the northern gate of Lanka, high as a mountain peak, and guarded the besieging force as well. Coming to that northern gate, where Ravana himself stood, the son of Dasharatha, Rama, made his camp; that dreadful gate none but Rama could hold, for it was like the sea guarded by Varuna and ringed on every side by armed demons.

A key to understanding (the idea): Here Rama is a wise field commander as well as a warrior. First he reminds Sugriva of the king’s duty, that a king should not risk himself alone; then, reading the portents, he divides the army into array. In Valmiki’s battle narrative this order of policy first and fighting after returns again and again.

At the eastern gate stood the monkey general Nila with Mainda and Dvivida. The mighty Angada besieged the southern gate with Rishabha, Gavaksha, Gaja, and Gavaya. With Pramathi, Praghasa, and other heroes, the strong Hanuman blocked the western gate. With all the best monkeys, swift as Garuda and the wind, Sugriva himself took his stand at the central post between the north and the west. Pressing down the demons of that post, thirty-six crore renowned captain monkeys held their ground where Sugriva was. By Rama’s order, Lakshmana with Vibhishana set crores of monkeys at each gate as the need required. With Jambavan, Sushena took a great force and stood a little behind Rama at the central post. Bearing trees and peaks, tiger-fanged, those best of monkeys waited in joy for the battle.

All their tails stood up in anger; teeth and claws were their weapons; their eyes were distorted and bloodshot, and their faces twisted with rage. Some monkeys had the strength of ten elephants, some ten times as much, some the might of a thousand elephants. Some had the strength of an ogha, some a hundred times that, some strength beyond measure. The gathering of those monkey armies, like a swarm of locusts, was wondrous and strange. With the monkeys leaping toward Lanka the sky seemed to fill, and with the monkeys massed below the battlements the ground about Lanka was covered on every side. A hundred armies of a hundred thousand each reached the gates of Lanka, and others pressed on all around to the fight.

A key to understanding (the numbers): An ogha is one of Valmiki’s vast units of reckoning (a figure far above a crore of elephants); an akshauhini is a full division of a war army (a fixed proportion of chariots, elephants, horses, and foot). “A hundred akshauhinis” here means an army boundless past counting. These figures are a device of exaggeration, and not an exact tally; the point is to show the unthinkable vastness of the army.

Suddenly ringed by monkeys cloud-dark and mighty as Indra, the demons stood amazed. From the swelling flood of that monkey army, like the roar of water when the sea breaks its shores, a great sound rose over Mount Trikuta. At that great sound the whole of Lanka, with its walls, gateways, hills, and woods, trembled. Guarded by Rama and Lakshmana and led by Sugriva, that monkey army grew all but unconquerable even to the gods and demons together.

The gist: Rama gives Sugriva a lesson in a king’s duty, reads the portents, divides the host into array, and posts captains at the four gates to lay siege to Lanka. Nila holds the east, Angada the south, Hanuman the west, and Rama with Lakshmana the north; and at the ring of the vast monkey army all Lanka shudders.

Angada goes as envoy to Ravana

Having ranged his army in array for the killing of the demons, having weighed and resolved his course again and again with his ministers, remembering the duty of a king, and knowing the order of the four measures (conciliation, gift, division, and force), Rama, on Vibhishana’s advice, called Angada son of Vali and said: gentle monkey, cross over into Lanka, cast off fear, and untroubled go to the ten-necked Ravana, and from us say this to that Ravana, fallen from fortune, stripped of splendor, ripe for death and bereft of his wits:

“Demon, out of delusion and pride you have done sins against the sages, the gods, the gandharvas, the apsaras, the nagas, the yakshas, and the kings of men; the hour of the ripe and inescapable fruit of those sins has come upon you. Surely the pride born of Brahma’s boon has been broken. Demon, weakened though I am by the taking of my wife, I stand at Lanka’s gate, rod in hand, to be your chastiser. Demon, standing firm in war and laying down your life in the fighting, you will win the state of the gods, the great sages, and the royal sages. Vilest of demons, show now that strength by which you carried off Sita through fraud and illusion. If you will not come, taking the daughter of Mithila’s king, to seek refuge, then with my sharp arrows I will empty this world of demons.

“The righteous Vibhishana, best of the demons, has come over to us and is here; surely the glorious one will win this lordship of Lanka without a thorn in it. You who make fools your helpers, ignorant of your own self, sinner, cannot enjoy a kingdom of unrighteousness even a moment. Demon, take up courage and valor and fight with me; struck down and stilled in battle by my arrows, you will be made pure. Night-ranger, though you become a bird and enter even the three worlds, once come into the path of my sight you will not return alive. I tell you a word for your own good: perform with your own hands your funeral rites, for no demon will be left in the world to do your last offerings; and look your fill on Lanka, for your life now hangs upon me.”

Spoken to thus, Angada, son of Tara, bright as fire, sprang up into the sky and made for Lanka. In a moment he crossed over Ravana’s palace and saw Ravana seated at ease with his ministers. A little way off, wearing armlets of gold, blazing like fire, the best of monkeys, Angada, came down and stood. Naming himself, he delivered to Ravana and his ministers the whole of Rama’s fine message, neither cut short nor added to.

Angada said: I am the envoy of the untiring Rama, king of Kosala; my name is Angada, son of Vali; perhaps my name has never reached your ears. Raghava, Rama, the increaser of Kausalya’s joy, says to you: pitiless one, be a man and come out and fight with us. I will kill you with your ministers, sons, kinsmen, and clansmen; and with your death the three worlds will be freed of fear. Enemy of the gods, danavas, yakshas, gandharvas, nagas, and demons, thorn in the side of the sages, I will uproot you today. With your death Vibhishana will win the lordship, unless you bow to Sita and return her to me with honor.

The moment the best of monkeys, Angada, spoke these harsh words, Ravana, lord of the hosts of night, fell into the grip of rage. In his fury he ordered his ministers again and again to seize this foolish monkey and kill him. Hearing Ravana’s word, four grim demons laid hold of Angada, bright as blazing fire. To show his strength before the demon host, the steady hero, son of Tara, let himself be seized. With the four demons clinging to both his arms like birds, Angada leapt onto the roof of the palace, high as a mountain; and, jolted by the force of his leap, all four demons fell to the ground before Ravana’s eyes.

Then the mighty son of Vali, Angada, set his foot on the peak of Ravana’s palace tower, high as a mountain, and that peak split before Ravana’s eyes as in old time the peak of Himalaya split under the thunderbolt. Having broken the palace tower, naming himself, roaring aloud, Angada sprang up into the sky, and, leaving the demons stricken and the monkeys glad, returned to Rama among the monkeys. At the wrecking of his palace Ravana grew furious, and, seeing his own ruin, began to draw long breaths.

Meanwhile, ringed by many joyful, roaring monkeys, Rama, bent on the enemy’s death, moved forward to war. The mighty monkey Sushena, huge as a mountain peak, ringed by monkeys that could take any shape, stood near Lanka. By Sugriva’s order the fierce monkey Hanuman ranged over the four gates as the moon ranges among the stars. Looking on the monkey army, a hundred akshauhinis strong, ringing Lanka and stretching to the sea, some demons were amazed, some afraid, and some fell into the joy of battle. The whole space between the rampart and the moat filled with monkeys; the wretched demons saw the wall itself turned all to monkeys. As a fearful uproar rose, the frightened demons ran out to the great battle like the wind at the ending of an age.

A key to understanding (the idea): Kramayoga means the ordered use of the four measures, conciliation (saman), gift (dana), sowing division (bheda), and force (danda). Rama’s sending of Angada as an envoy is the last warning before force. By the science of statecraft war is the very last resort; Angada’s message keeps to that policy.

The gist: Rama sends Angada as envoy with a last warning to Ravana. Angada speaks the harsh message; Ravana orders him seized, but Angada carries four demons up, breaks the palace tower, and returns safe. On both sides the preparation for war is complete.

Ravana’s council, and the opening of the first battle

Then the demons went into Ravana’s palace and said that the monkeys with Rama had ringed the city. Hearing that the city was besieged, the enraged Ravana doubled the guard, climbed his palace, and saw that Lanka, with its hills, woods, and groves, had been ringed on every side by countless war-eager monkey bands. Seeing the ground gone gray with monkeys, he began to think how their slaughter might be done. After long thought, taking hold of his courage, the large-eyed Ravana looked upon Raghava and the monkey army.

Meanwhile the joyful Rama moved forward with his army and looked on Lanka guarded on every side by demons. Seeing Lanka bright with banners and pennons of many colors, the mind of the son of Dasharatha turned suddenly to Sita, and, scorched with grief, he thought: here, fawn-eyed, the daughter of Janaka, on my account, sits scorched with grief, wasted, sleeping on the ground, bearing her sorrow. Thinking again and again of Vaidehi tormented by the ogresses, the righteous Rama ordered the monkeys to the swift killing of the foe.

At Rama’s order the monkeys, striving past one another to be foremost, filled Lanka with their lion-roar. All of them made the vow that they would crush this Lanka with mountain peaks or with their bare fists alone. Taking up mountain peaks and great rocks, and tearing up trees of every kind, the monkey chiefs stood ready. Before Ravana’s eyes the monkey armies, division by division, began to climb Lanka’s ramparts. Copper-faced, gold-hued, ready to give their lives for Rama, the monkeys, taking sal trees and mountain peaks for weapons, pressed on toward Lanka. With trees, peaks, and fists they threw down the tops and gateways of countless battlements. The clear-water moats the monkeys began to fill with sand, mountain tops, grass, and wood.

“Victory to Rama, victory to the mighty Lakshmana, victory to King Sugriva guarded by Raghava.” So crying, the shape-shifting monkeys ran roaring toward the ramparts of Lanka. Breaking the golden gateways, throwing down the gate-towers high as the peak of Kailasa, leaping and bounding and roaring, those monkeys, huge as great elephants, pressed on toward Lanka. Standing at the northeast corner, ringed by ten crore victory-eager monkeys, the strong Kumuda besieged the eastern gate; to his aid Praghasa and the great-armed Panasa stood near him. Standing at the southeast, with twenty crore monkeys, the hero Shatabali besieged the southern gate. Standing at the southwest, the strong Sushena, father of Tara, blocked the western gate with crores of monkeys. Standing at the northwest, Rama with Lakshmana and the monkey lord Sugriva besieged the northern gate.

The huge and terrible langur Gavaksha stood near Rama with a crore of monkeys; Jambavan’s brother Dhumra, slayer of foes, stood near Rama with a crore of grim-tempered bears. Vibhishana, mace in hand, armored, with his watchful ministers, stood where Rama was. Gaja, Gavaksha, Gavaya, Sharabha, and Gandhamadana ran about on every side, guarding the monkey army.

Then the enraged demon lord Ravana ordered all his armies out at once. The moment they heard the order, the demons raised a fearful din. Struck with golden rods, the drums of the demons, moon-white of face, sounded on every side. Filled with the breath of the mouths of grim demons, a hundred thousand conches raised a great blaring. Bright with dark, gleaming limbs and gems, the conch-bearing demons shone like clouds ranked with lightning and rows of cranes. Driven on by Ravana, the joyful demon army surged like the waves of a great ocean thick with the clouds of the age’s end.

Then the monkey army raised on every side a roar that filled the peaks and caves of the Malaya, that is Trikuta. The clamor of conch and kettledrum, the lion-roars, the trumpeting of elephants, the neighing of horses, the grinding of chariot wheels, and the voices from the mouths of the demons made earth, air, and sea resound. Then a grim battle broke out between the demons and the monkeys, like the ancient war of gods and asuras. The demons, boasting their prowess with blazing maces, lances, spears, and axes, began to strike down all the monkeys. And the huge monkeys began to strike down the demons with trees, mountain peaks, claws, and teeth.

“Victory to King Sugriva,” rose the great cry; and the demons, crying “Victory to the king, may he conquer,” began to boast each his own name. Standing on the battlements, the dreadful demons pierced the monkeys on the ground with bhindipalas and lances, and the furious monkeys, leaping up into the sky, dragged down the demons on the wall by their arms. That savage battle of demons and monkeys filled with a morass of flesh and blood, and no other war could be its likeness.

The gist: Seeing the city besieged, Ravana sends his army out. On the other side, thinking of Sita, Rama orders the assault. Monkey captains hold fast at the four gates, and the first grim battle of demons and monkeys breaks out, a battle of a morass of flesh and blood.

The single combats: hero against hero, and the fall of the demon chiefs

Seeing the strength of the enemy host, a most dreadful surge of strength and fury rose in those great monkeys and demons as they fought. Mounted on horses like tongues of fire with golden trappings, on elephants, on chariots bright as the sun, and in lovely armor, the demon heroes of dreadful deeds rode out wishing Ravana victory, filling all ten quarters with their voices. The vast monkey army too, wishing Rama victory, fell upon that grim demon host. Then a series of single combats broke out, demon and monkey springing at each other.

Ravana’s son Indrajit fought with Angada, son of Vali, as the demon Andhaka fought with three-eyed Shiva. The ever-fierce Sampati fought with Prajangha, and Hanuman with Jambumali. Ravana’s younger brother Vibhishana met the sharp-swift demon Shatrughna. The mighty Gaja fought with Tapana, and the fiery Nila with Nikumbha. The monkey lord Sugriva met Praghasa, and the glorious Lakshmana met Virupaksha. The fierce Agniketu, Rashmiketu, Suptaghna, and Yajnakopa closed with Rama. Vajramushti met Mainda, and Ashaniprabha met Dvivida. The hero Pratapana met Nala, and the mighty Sushena, son of Dharma, fought Vidyunmali. And many other grim monkeys came into the field, each fighting several demons at once.

There a most tumultuous and hair-raising fight was fought. From the bodies of the monkeys and demons rivers of blood ran, carrying hair for moss and corpses for driftwood. The enraged Indrajit struck the hero Angada, breaker of the enemy host, with his mace as Indra strikes with the thunderbolt. Then the swift and glorious Angada, with that very mace snatched away, crushed Indrajit’s gold-wrought chariot, his horses, and his driver. Pierced by three arrows, Sampati killed Prajangha with an ashvakarna tree. Seated in his chariot, the mighty Jambumali pierced Hanuman’s chest with the lance of his car; then Hanuman climbed onto that very chariot and with a single slap ground the demon and it to nothing.

The grim, roaring Pratapana rushed upon Nala, but Nala, pierced by his sharp arrows, put out his eyes. Sugriva killed Praghasa, who seemed to be swallowing the armies, with a saptaparna tree. Lakshmana bore down the dreadful-looking Virupaksha with a rain of arrows and felled him with a single shaft. Agniketu, Rashmiketu, Suptaghna, and Yajnakopa pierced Rama with arrows, but the furious Rama, with four dreadful shafts like tongues of flame, cut off the heads of all four. Mainda felled Vajramushti with his fist, chariot and horses and all, like a temple of the gods brought down. Nikumbha pierced Nila with arrows bright as the sun and laughed, but Nila with the wheel of Nikumbha’s own chariot cut off the heads of Nikumbha and his driver, as Vishnu cut off the asuras’. Dvivida struck Ashaniprabha with a mountain peak; wounded, Dvivida too felled Ashaniprabha with a sal tree, horses and chariot and all.

Seated in his chariot, Vidyunmali struck Sushena with golden arrows and roared again and again. Sushena shattered his chariot with a great mountain peak. Then Vidyunmali leapt down from the chariot and stood on the ground with a mace in hand, and struck the mace against the chest of the charging Sushena. Careless of that grim blow, Sushena dashed the same rock against Vidyunmali’s chest; his chest crushed by the stone, Vidyunmali fell dead to the ground. So did those brave monkeys grind down those brave demons in single combat, as the gods ground down the daityas.

The field grew grim, strewn with lances, spears, javelins, and arrows, broken chariots, slain elephants and horses, wheels and axles and yokes, and headless bodies and severed trunks, and haunted by jackals; headless trunks sprang up here and there. In the course of the long day the sun went down, and the life-taking night came on; drunk on the smell of blood, the demons flung themselves again with force into that grim night battle.

A key to understanding (the idea): Valmiki tells the single combats in pairs (Indrajit and Angada, Hanuman and Jambumali, Nila and Nikumbha, and so on). This does more than list names. It shows that each monkey hero has his matched demon adversary, and that the war keeps its shape as a set of ordered duels.

The gist: Monkey and demon heroes clash in pairs. Angada crushes Indrajit’s chariot; Hanuman kills Jambumali, Nila kills Nikumbha, Rama beheads four demons, and Sushena kills Vidyunmali. With sunset the grim night battle begins.

The night battle, and Indrajit binds Rama and Lakshmana in the serpent-noose

As the monkeys and demons fought, the sun set and the life-taking night spread wide. Then the grim night battle of monkeys and demons, each bound in old enmity, each longing for victory, broke out in full force. In that terrible dark the monkeys would ask, “Are you a demon?” and the demons would ask, “Are you a monkey?” and then would strike each other. “Kill,” “cut him down,” “come forward,” “why do you flee,” such a tumult of words was heard through the host. Wearing golden armor, the dark demons in that darkness looked like the best of mountains with their groves of glowing herbs.

In that impassable dark the demons, of great speed, senseless with fury, fell upon the monkeys on every side, devouring them. The grim-tempered monkeys too, leaping up, tore with sharp teeth the gold-caparisoned horses of the demons and the banners that seemed like serpents. The strong monkeys threw the demon army into disorder; they dragged down elephants, riders, and banner-and-pennon chariots and tore them with their teeth. Rama and Lakshmana killed the best of the demons, seen and unseen, with arrows like serpents. The dust of the earth, thrown up by the hooves of horses and by chariot wheels, began to fill the ears and eyes of the warriors, and grim rivers of blood ran.

A wondrous sound rose of kettledrums, mridangas, panavas, conches, and chariot rims; and the dreadful wailing of dying, groaning demons and wounded monkeys rose too. With the best of the monkeys wounded by lances, spears, and axes, and the shape-shifting demons slain like mountains, the field grew like an offering of weapon-flowers, hard to know and hard to walk for the mire of blood. That grim night, the ravisher of monkeys and demons, grew impassable as the night of doom for all creatures.

In that grim dark the joyful demons fell with a rain of arrows on Rama alone. Their sound, as they rushed in fury at Raghava, was like the roar of the seven seas at the hour of dissolution. In a single instant Rama, with six flame-tongued arrows, felled six chief demons (Yajnashatru, Mahaparshva, Mahodara, the huge Vajradamshtra, and Shuka and Sarana). Pierced to the vitals by his volleys of shafts, these demons drew back from the fight and fled with what life was left in them. In a mere instant the great chariot-warrior Rama lit up the quarters and half-quarters with his flame-tongued arrows. The other brave demons who stood before him were destroyed like moths in fire. With gold-feathered arrows falling on every side, the night grew strange as an autumn night bright with fireflies.

With the roars of the demons and the beat of their drums, the already grim night grew grimmer, and Mount Trikuta, full of caves, seemed to answer back. The huge langur monkeys clasped the night-dark demons in their arms and crushed them, and gave them to the jackals and vultures for food. Bent on the enemy’s death, in a mere instant Angada, with flame-tongued arrows, wounded Ravani, Indrajit, with his driver and his horses. Left without horses or driver, Indrajit abandoned his chariot and vanished on the spot.

At that deed of the son of Vali all the gods, together with the sages, and Rama and Lakshmana, gave praise. All beings knew the war-power of Indrajit, and so, seeing that mighty one beaten by Angada, all rejoiced. The monkeys, with Sugriva and Vibhishana, cried “Well done, well done” and raised a shout of joy.

But Indrajit, beaten by Angada, fell into a most dreadful rage. Grown too weak for Angada, he vanished; and, made invisible by Brahma’s boon, senseless with fury, Ravani, unseen, began to loose sharp arrows bright as lightning. In his anger he pierced Rama and Lakshmana in every limb with dreadful serpent-arrows. Screened by illusion, invisible to all beings, that deceitful night-ranger, beguiling the brothers, began to bind them in a net of arrows. Seeing those two heroes suddenly pierced by the serpent-arrows of that furious demon, the monkeys grieved.

When he could not conquer them in open form, that wicked one used his illusion and bound the two princes.

A key to understanding (the idea): The tradition holds that at night the strength of the demons is doubled (Valmiki himself hints at it in this canto). That is why the night battle is hard for the monkeys. Indrajit’s “illusion” here is to fight while unseen, made possible by Brahma’s boon; it is a war of trickery, which is called the nature of the demons.

The gist: In the grim night battle Rama kills six demon chiefs and Angada beats Indrajit. But Indrajit, turning invisible, treacherously binds both Rama and Lakshmana in a net of serpent-arrows.

The Raghava brothers bound in the arrow-net, and the monkeys’ despair

To hunt out the whereabouts of Indrajit, the very mighty Rama appointed ten monkey captains: the two sons of Sushena, the monkey lord Nila, Angada son of Vali, the swift Sharabha, Dvivida, the mighty Hanuman, Sanuprastha, Rishabha, and Rishabhaskandha. Taking up dreadful trees, those glad monkeys sprang into the sky, searching all ten quarters. But Indrajit, skilled in the science of weapons, checked the rush of those swift monkeys with very swift arrows charged with the supreme weapon, the Brahma weapon. Cut and torn by his shafts, the monkeys could no more see Indrajit in that dark than one can see the sun screened by clouds.

The battle-conquering Indrajit drove his body-cleaving arrows again and again into the bodies of Rama and Lakshmana. Pierced by the serpent-arrows, the two heroes looked as if no spot on their bodies was left without a shaft; from their wounds much blood ran, and they shone like kimshuka trees in flower. Then, red-eyed, like a heap of broken collyrium, Indrajit said to the brothers from his hiding: fighting, I am beyond sight; even Indra cannot see me or come near me, much less you two. In fury I send you both, bound in this net of arrows, to the world of Yama.

So saying, having pierced the two righteous brothers with sharp arrows, Indrajit roared in joy. Dark as broken collyrium, he drew his great bow and loosed grim arrows again, and roared again and again as he drove them to the vitals. In a mere instant, bound in the arrow-net, the two could not so much as look up. Pierced in every limb, filled with the barbs of arrows, the two princes trembled like the flagstaff of Indra when its cord is cut. Weak from the piercing of their vitals, the two great archer-princes fell to the ground.

On a hero’s bed, drenched with blood, their every limb covered with arrows, the two heroes lay in great pain. Not a finger’s breadth of their bodies was left unpierced; not a limb, to the very tips of the fingers, was left unwounded. Pierced by that cruel shape-shifting demon, the two princes ran blood like two springs. First Rama fell, pierced to the vitals, by that same Indrajit who in old time had conquered Indra. Then Lakshmana, seeing the bull among men, Rama, fallen a bowshot away, gave up hope even of his own life. Seeing his lotus-eyed brother, tender to the suppliant, glad in battle, lying on the ground, Lakshmana began to grieve.

The monkeys too, seeing them, fell into deep anguish, and, stricken with grief, wept aloud with tear-filled eyes. Those monkeys, led by Hanuman, ringed the two princes who lay on the hero’s bed, bound in the serpent-noose, and sank into the depths of despair.

A sub-tale: Here Valmiki hints at the root of the name “Indrajit.” This is the same son of Ravana who in old time beat the lord of the gods, Indra, in battle, and from that came his name, Indrajit, the conqueror of Indra. His true name was Meghanada; after the conquest of Indra the title clung to him. It is on the strength of that feat that he claims to fight unseen even to Indra.

The gist: The unseen Indrajit riddles Rama and Lakshmana with many kinds of sharp arrows and lays them on the hero’s bed. The two brothers, blood-drenched, bound in the arrow-net, lie senseless. The monkeys, overcome with grief, stand ringed about them.

Vibhishana reassures Sugriva, and Indrajit returns in triumph

Then the monkeys, looking to sky and earth, saw the two brothers, Rama and Lakshmana, covered with arrows. His work done like the lord of the gods, Indrajit went off, and Sugriva with Vibhishana came to the spot. Nila, Dvivida, Mainda, Sushena, Kumuda, and Angada, with Hanuman, grieved for the Raghava brothers, who lay motionless on the bed of arrows, breathing faintly, drenched with blood, pierced through the net of shafts. Breathing like two serpents, feebly stirring, sunk in blood like golden banners, ringed by their captains with tear-filled eyes, the two heroes were a sight that pained Vibhishana and all the monkeys.

Looking to the sky and all the quarters, the monkeys could not see Indrajit, for he was screened by illusion. But with his own sight born of illusion, Vibhishana saw his nephew Indrajit standing before them, hidden by his boon, endowed with splendor, fame, and prowess. Seeing his own deed, Indrajit, in high delight, gladdening all the demons, proclaimed: the mighty Rama and Lakshmana, slayers of Dushana and Khara, have been felled by my arrows; now not all the gods, the asuras, and the sages together can free them from this net of arrows. That destroyer, that ruin on whose account my grieving father cannot so much as touch his bed all night, and on whose account the whole of Lanka stays troubled like a river in flood, that ruin I have quieted. The prowess of Rama, of Lakshmana, and of all the monkeys has gone as fruitless as the clouds of autumn.

So saying, before the eyes of the watching demons, Indrajit struck at all the renowned monkey captains too. He pierced Nila with nine arrows, Mainda and Dvivida with three each; striking Jambavan in the chest, he loosed ten arrows at the swift Hanuman. He pierced the boundlessly valiant Gavaksha and Sharabha with two arrows each, and the langur lord Gavaksha and Angada with many. Having pierced these best of monkeys with flame-tongued arrows, the great Indrajit roared, and, troubling and scattering the monkeys with his volleys, said with a laugh: demons, look, these two brothers lie bound in my grim net of arrows before the whole army. Hearing this, the deceit-fighting demons were amazed and glad. Roaring like clouds, taking Rama for dead, they began to worship Indrajit. Seeing the two brothers motionless and without breath, Indrajit judged them dead, and, glad, giving joy to all the demons, the triumphant Indrajit entered Lanka.

Seeing the bodies of Rama and Lakshmana filled with arrows in every limb and member, fear gripped Sugriva. To Sugriva, monkey lord, his face wet with tears, his eyes distraught with grief, Vibhishana said: Sugriva, give up fear, hold back the rush of your tears. War is mostly of this kind; victory is never certain. If our fortune is not spent, these mighty, noble ones will cast off their swoon and rise. Monkey, take heart, and give heart to me who am helpless; for those set on truth and dharma there is no fear of death.

So saying, Vibhishana wiped Sugriva’s fair eyes with a hand wetted with water, and, taking water charged with a sacred spell, washed his eyes. Wiping the face of the wise monkey king, he spoke fitting and unerring words: monkey king, this is no time to be unmanned; at such an hour even too much love leads toward death. So cast off your weakness and think of the good of these armies led by Rama. Or rather, until Rama’s sense returns, guard him; the moment they come to, the two sons of Kakutstha will drive away our fear utterly. This is nothing to Rama, and Rama is not one to die; for the bodily luster that leaves men whose span is done does not leave him.

Vibhishana went on: so take heart yourself and give heart to your army; I will meanwhile set all the forces on their feet again. The monkeys, their eyes wide with fear, are whispering the news of Rama’s swoon in one another’s ears; but seeing me moving glad through the army, let the monkeys cast off this fear as one casts off a used garland. So saying, Vibhishana reassured the fleeing monkey army once more. On the other side the great illusionist Indrajit came with all his forces to his father in Lanka.

There, going to Ravana, folding his hands, saluting him, he gave the glad news that Rama and Lakshmana were slain. Hearing that the enemy had fallen, Ravana rose in joy among the demons and folded his son in his arms; with glad heart he smelt his head and asked how the two had been rendered motionless and lusterless, bound with serpent-arrows. Hearing the truth, Indrajit told him all. Hearing his great chariot-warrior son’s words, Ravana, filled with the rush of joy, gave up the fever of grief the son of Dasharatha had raised in him, and welcomed his son Indrajit with words full of great gladness.

A key to understanding (the idea): Vibhishana’s comfort is one of Valmiki’s maxims of statecraft: “War is mostly of this kind; victory is never certain.” It shows Vibhishana as a steady, practical minister who holds the army together in the hour of fear, and not merely a demon who has changed sides.

The gist: Indrajit proclaims his victory, strikes the monkey captains too, and returns to Lanka thinking Rama and Lakshmana dead. Vibhishana reassures the frightened Sugriva that Rama is only in a swoon. Ravana welcomes his son.

Sita is shown the battlefield from the Pushpaka

When Indrajit went back to Lanka, Hanuman, Angada, Nila, Sushena, Kumuda, Nala, Gaja, Gavaksha, Gavaya, Sharabha, Gandhamadana, Jambavan, Rishabha, Skandha, Rambha, Shatabali, and Prithu, these best of monkeys and bears, ranged themselves in array, took up trees, and guarded Rama on every side. Looking to all the quarters, sidelong and above, at the stirring of even a blade of grass the monkeys thought “the demons have come.”

Having sent off his son Indrajit, conqueror of Indra, the glad Ravana called the ogresses who guarded Sita and said: tell Vaidehi that Indrajit has killed Rama and Lakshmana. Set her in the Pushpaka car and show her the two slain in battle. On whose strength she took pride and would not submit to me, that husband, with his brother, has been killed at the mouth of the war. Giving up the hope of seeing her husband, without fear, without trouble, decked in all her ornaments, Sita will now submit to me. Today, seeing Rama and Lakshmana in the power of Time, finding no other course, in despair the wide-eyed one will come to me of herself.

Hearing the order of that wicked Ravana, the ogresses cried “very good” and went to the Pushpaka; and by Ravana’s order they took it and came to the daughter of Mithila’s king in the Ashoka grove. Sita, worsted by grief at the word of her husband’s death, the ogresses set upon the Pushpaka. Then, seating Sita with Trijata in the Pushpaka, the ogresses went to show her Rama and Lakshmana, and Ravana flew them above Lanka bright with banners and pennons. In his joy Ravana had it proclaimed through Lanka too that Raghava and Lakshmana had been killed in battle by Indrajit.

Going by the car with Trijata, Sita saw the great monkey army as if destroyed. Near Rama and Lakshmana she saw the flesh-eating demons in high glee and the monkeys in deep grief. Then she saw Lakshmana and Rama lying on the bed of arrows, swooning, tormented by shafts, their armor broken and their bows flung aside, every limb cut by darts, a very thicket of arrows, laid upon the ground.

Seeing those bulls among men, lotus-eyed, lying on the bed of arrows like the sons of Fire, Skanda and Vishakha, asleep in that state, the grief-stricken Sita broke into a piteous, helpless lament. Seeing her husband and Lakshmana rolling in the dust, the faultless-limbed, dark-eyed daughter of Janaka wept. Looking on the two brothers, mighty as the sons of gods, and fearing their death, struck with tears and grief, the sorrowing Sita said:

A key to understanding (the place): The Pushpaka is the self-moving sky-car Ravana had wrested from Kubera; it moves and grows at will. Here Ravana uses it to show Sita the battlefield, a cruel policy, to break her by the sight of Rama fallen. Yet that same Pushpaka becomes a proof on Sita’s side later (in Trijata’s reasoning).

The gist: To break Sita, Ravana sets her with the ogresses in the Pushpaka and shows her the battlefield, where Rama and Lakshmana lie senseless on the bed of arrows. Seeing them seemingly dead, Sita bursts into a piteous lament.

Sita’s lament, and Trijata’s steadying words

Seeing her husband and the mighty Lakshmana slain, Sita, wasted with grief, lamented piteously: those readers of marks who told of me that I would bear sons and keep my good fortune unwidowed, all of them, now that Rama is killed, have proved liars. Those wise ones who said I would be the queen and wife of a king who performs sacrifices and long rites are proved false today. Those who said I would be honored among the wives of brave kings and revered by my husband are proved false. Those brahmins, prophets of good, who said in my hearing that I would be happy with my husband are proved false, now that Rama is killed.

Sita counted the auspicious marks of her own body: on my soles are the marks of the lotus, by which women of good family are consecrated with their kingly husbands on the imperial throne. Those ill marks by which unlucky women are widowed are not on my body; yet, seeing all these good signs, I find them fruitless for me. My hair is fine, even, and dark, my brows unjoined, my calves rounded and hairless, my teeth close-set. My temples, eyes, hands, feet, ankles, and thighs are even and full; the fingers of my hands are even, smooth, and rounded of nail. My color is like a gem, my body-hair soft; with twelve limbs (the ten toes and the two soles) I touch the ground, and the readers of marks called me a woman of good signs. With the barley-mark, unbroken, well-colored hands and feet, and a gentle smile, the knowers of marks called me auspicious; the brahmins said I would be consecrated with my husband on the imperial throne. All of that has today come to nothing.

Sita lamented on: having searched Janasthana, having got word of me, having crossed the unshakable ocean, the two brothers are killed by the illusion of Indrajit, worthless as a cow’s hoofprint! Did the Raghavas not know the weapons of Varuna, of Fire, of Indra, of the Wind, and the Brahmashira? Then why, in this last need, did they not use them? My protectors Rama and Lakshmana, a match for Vasava, are killed by Indrajit hidden in illusion. Come into Raghava’s line of sight, even a foe swift as thought could not return alive. There is no burden Time cannot carry, and Death too is unconquerable, when Rama with his brother has fallen in battle. For Rama and the great chariot-warrior Lakshmana, for myself, and for my mother, I do not grieve so much as for my ascetic mother-in-law Kausalya, who thinks day and night, when will I see Sita and Raghava with Lakshmana returned, their vow fulfilled.

To the lamenting Sita the ogress Trijata said: lady, do not despair; these your husbands live. I will give you great and sound reasons why I hold that these two brothers, Rama and Lakshmana, are alive even now. Lady, when the lord is slain, the faces of the warriors are neither full of anger nor eager with joy. But, Vaidehi, this divine Pushpaka car bears you; had these two been dead, it would never have borne you. An army whose brave leader has fallen loses spirit and effort and drifts here and there like a boat without a helmsman on the water. But this monkey army is neither troubled nor confused; out of love I tell you that the two sons of Kakutstha live, and so the army is guarding them.

Trijata went on: daughter of Janaka, give up grief, sorrow, and delusion. I have never told a lie before, nor will I; by your pure conduct and sweet nature you have made a home in my heart. Not all the gods and asuras with Indra can beat these two in battle; from the very look on the faces of the brothers and their guardians I knew that they live. Vaidehi, see this great wonder: though pierced by arrows and swooning, the bodily luster does not leave the two. Mostly, when we look on the faces of men whose life is gone, a great disfigurement comes over them. Daughter of Janaka, know them surely to be alive.

Hearing her words, Sita, like a daughter of the gods, folded her hands and said “So be it.” Then, turning the thought-swift Pushpaka back, Trijata brought the wretched Sita into Lanka again. Getting down from the Pushpaka with Trijata, Sita was led by the ogresses into the Ashoka grove once more. Going into that pleasure ground of Ravana thick with trees, brooding deeply on the two princes, Sita fell into the depths of despair.

A key to understanding (the idea): Trijata, though an ogress, wishes Sita well. Her arguments are practical ones, grounded in the everyday: the divine Pushpaka does not bear a widow; a leaderless army drifts, while this army holds together; the face of a dead man is disfigured, and theirs is not. This is Valmiki’s matter-of-fact manner, an argument for hope drawn from the science of marks and from common experience.

The gist: Sita, holding her own auspicious marks proved false, and grieving above all for Kausalya, laments piteously. But the well-meaning ogress Trijata proves by plain evidence that Rama and Lakshmana are only in a swoon, and brings Sita back to the Ashoka grove.

Rama, coming to, laments for Lakshmana

Ringed about the two sons of Dasharatha, who lay bound in the grim net of arrows, drenched with blood, breathing like serpents, all the mighty monkey chiefs with Sugriva stood sunk in grief. Just then, bound with arrows though he was, by the strength of his own steadiness and vigor the valiant Rama came to. Then, seeing his brother Lakshmana blood-drenched, tightly bound, and downcast of face, the anxious Rama began to lament:

Rama said: what use is the winning or the keeping of Sita to me, when today I see my brother beaten in battle, lying asleep? Search the world of the living, and a woman like Sita may be found; but a helper and battle-loving brother like Lakshmana will not be found. If Lakshmana, joy of Sumitra, has gone to the five elements, then before the monkeys’ eyes I will give up my own life. What will I say to mother Kausalya, what to Kaikeyi? How will I comfort mother Sumitra, wailing like an osprey, trembling in longing to see her son, bereft of him, if I go back without Lakshmana? How will I say to Shatrughna and the glorious Bharata that he who came with me to the forest, without him I have come back? I cannot bear the reproach of mother Sumitra; therefore here and now I will give up my own body, for I have no wish left to live.

Rama reproached himself: shame on me, base and cruel doer of ill deeds, on whose account this Lakshmana lies on the bed of arrows as though his life were gone. Lakshmana, you who ever comforted me in my dejection, today, passing from life, in your pain you cannot even speak to me. On the very ground where today you killed many demons, brave though you are, you now lie pierced by arrow after arrow. Drenched with blood on this bed of arrows, turned all to arrows, you look like the setting sun. With your vitals cut by shafts you cannot speak, yet even without speech the redness of your gaze shows your pain. As this great-splendored Lakshmana followed me to the forest, so will I follow him to the world of Yama. He who was ever dear as a kinsman and friend and true to my will, by the misdeeds of base me has come to this state today. I do not remember that ever, even once, in great anger, Lakshmana spoke a harsh or unkind word. He who loosed five hundred arrows at a single draw, greater in the science of weapons than even Kartavirya, who could cut even the weapons of Indra with his own, that Lakshmana, worthy of a couch of great price, lies slain today on the bare ground.

Rama would send Sugriva away: Sugriva, that I could not make Vibhishana king of the demons, this empty boast will surely burn me. Sugriva, this very moment turn back from here; knowing me gone, Ravana will fall on you too, O king. Putting Angada at your head, with the army and its train, with Nala and Nila cross back over the sea. In battle you did a great deed, hard for others; I am pleased too with Jambavan and Gavaksha, lord of the langurs. The deeds of Angada, Mainda, and Dvivida, and the fierce fighting of Kesari and Sampati, were done. Gavaya, Gavaksha, Sharabha, Gaja, and the other monkeys gave up their lives fighting for me. Fate cannot be crossed by men, Sugriva. Whatever a friend or well-wisher could do, all of it, dharma-fearing Sugriva, you have done; best of monkeys, you have all fulfilled the office of a friend. With my leave, go now, all of you, where you will. Hearing his lament, all the monkeys shed tears from their dark eyes.

Just then Vibhishana, having set all the armies in order, came quickly, mace in hand, to where Raghava was. Seeing Vibhishana, dark as powdered collyrium, come at speed, all the monkeys took him for Indrajit and fled.

The gist: Coming to, Rama grieves for his brother Lakshmana more than for Sita or his own life, and, unmanned by the thought of Sumitra’s reproach, tells Sugriva to withdraw with the army. Just then Vibhishana, mace in hand, comes near, and, being dark of hue, is taken for Indrajit; the monkeys flee.

The coming of Garuda, and the loosing of Rama and Lakshmana

Then the mighty monkey king Sugriva asked: why is this army troubled like a ship caught in a whirlwind at sea? Hearing Sugriva’s words, Angada son of Vali said: do you not see the son of Dasharatha, Rama, and the great chariot-warrior Lakshmana, covered with a net of arrows, drenched with blood, lying on the bed of arrows? Then Sugriva, lord of the monkeys, said to his son Angada: I do not take this rout of the monkeys to be without cause; some fear beyond the binding of Rama and Lakshmana must be at hand. These monkeys, downcast of face, their eyes wide with fear, are casting away their weapons and fleeing to every quarter; unashamed before one another, not looking back, leaping over the fallen and dragging one another, they run.

Just then the hero Vibhishana, mace in hand, came up and blessed Sugriva and Raghava with wishes of victory. Seeing Vibhishana, the cause of the monkeys’ fright, Sugriva said to the noble Jambavan standing near: it is Vibhishana who has come, whom the best of the monkeys, taking him for Indrajit’s kind, are fleeing in terror. Quickly stop these terrified monkeys who have run in every direction, and tell them that this is Vibhishana come, and not Indrajit. At Sugriva’s word Jambavan, king of the bears, called back the fleeing monkeys and reassured them; hearing Jambavan’s word and knowing Vibhishana, the monkeys cast off fear and returned.

Seeing the bodies of Rama and Lakshmana covered with arrows, the righteous Vibhishana was pained, and wiping their eyes with a water-wet hand, his heart wrung with grief, he wept and lamented: these two princes, full of vigor, valiant, glad in battle, have been brought to this state by the deceit-fighting demons! My wicked nephew, the base son of his father, the evil Indrajit, with the crooked mind that is the demon nature, has cheated these heroes of straight valor. Pierced by arrows, drenched with blood, the two lie on the ground like porcupines. Those on whose prowess I hung the hope of Lanka’s throne, these best of men lie as though asleep for the wreck of their bodies. My hope of a kingdom has come to nothing; alive though I am, I am as dead, and the enemy Ravana has been made glad by his son.

Folding the lamenting Vibhishana in his arms, the strong-souled monkey king Sugriva said: knower of dharma, you will surely win the kingdom of Lanka, there is no doubt; Ravana and Indrajit will not have their wish. Casting off their swoon, these two, Rama and Lakshmana, a match for Indra mounted on Garuda, will kill Ravana with his host in battle. So reassuring Vibhishana, Sugriva said to Sushena his father-in-law, standing near: the moment they come to, take these foe-taming brothers with the brave monkeys and go to Kishkindha; I will kill Ravana with his sons and kinsmen and bring Sita back, as Indra brought back the lost Shri.

A sub-tale: Hearing Sugriva, Sushena recalled the ancient great war of gods and demons: in that war the danavas, hiding by illusion, wounded the gods again and again, skilled in weapons though the gods were. Then the guru of the gods, Brihaspati, healed the wounded, swooning, and lifeless gods with spell-charged lore and herbs. Those same divine herbs (the “sanjivakarani” that revives the dead and the “vishalya” that draws out the barb) are even now on two mountains, Chandra and Drona, on the shore of the Ocean of Milk, where the nectar was churned, and the gods set them there. Monkeys like Sampati and Panasa know them; let Hanuman, son of the Wind, go there to fetch them.

Just then a wind rose with clouds and lightning that churned the sea-water and seemed to shake the mountains. From the beat of great wings that mighty wind rose, and the great trees of the island lost their branches and fell into the salt water; the serpents were terrified, and the sea-creatures sank quickly into the depths. Then in a moment all the monkeys saw the son of Vinata, Garuda, come, mighty as Vasava, blazing like fire. Seeing him come, the serpents that had turned to arrows and bound the two men fled.

Then Suparna Garuda touched the two Kakutsthas and greeted them, and with both hands stroked their moon-like faces. At Garuda’s touch their wounds closed and their bodies at once grew bright and smooth. Their splendor, valor, strength, vigor, energy, power of display, understanding, and memory all doubled. Lifting the two, the great-splendored Garuda embraced them in joy, and Rama said: by your grace we have crossed by this means the great danger raised by Indrajit and have quickly grown strong again. As on meeting my father Dasharatha or my grandfather Aja, so glad is my heart on meeting you. Who are you, endowed with beauty, wearing divine garlands and unguents, clad in spotless robes and divine ornaments?

To Rama, his eyes distraught with joy, the loving lord of birds Garuda answered: Kakutstha, I am your friend, dear to you, your very life that walks outside your body, Garuda; I have come to help you both. Not the mighty asuras, nor the strong danavas, nor the gods with Indra at their head and the gandharvas, could loose this grim net of arrows that the cruel-deeded Indrajit had wrought by his power of illusion. These sons of Kadru, venomous serpents of sharp fangs, had turned to arrows by the demon’s illusion and bound you. True-valored, righteous Rama, you are blessed, with your foe-slaying brother Lakshmana. Hearing of this, out of the love between us, keeping faith of friendship, I came here at once. You are both freed of this grim net of arrows; now stay ever on your guard, for all demons fight by nature through trickery, while the strength of pure-hearted heroes is their very straightness. By that measure, never trust the demons on the field of battle, for the demons are ever crooked.

So saying, the mighty Suparna Garuda embraced Rama with love and asked leave: friend Raghava, knower of dharma, tender even to your foes, I ask your leave; now I will go in comfort. Have no curiosity about our friendship; when the deed is done in battle, hero, you will know the secret of this friendship. Emptying Lanka with waves of arrows and leaving only the very young and the very old, killing the enemy Ravana, you will surely win Sita. So saying, the swift Suparna Garuda, having made Rama whole, walked in reverence about him and embraced him among the monkeys, and rose like the wind into the sky.

Seeing Rama and Lakshmana whole, the monkey chiefs raised the lion-roar and lashed their tails; they beat kettledrums and mridangas, blew conches, and set up their old shrill cries. The mountain-fighting monkeys tore up trees of every kind, and, hissing, stood ready for war in their hundreds of thousands, and, terrifying the night-rangers with their grim roar, pressed toward the gates of Lanka. Like the roaring clouds of midnight at the end of the hot season, a most dreadful tumult of the monkey chiefs rose.

A key to understanding (the idea): Indrajit’s arrows were in truth nagas, serpents that had taken arrow-form through illusion. Garuda is the natural enemy of serpents; at his coming the snakes flee and the bonds fall away. Valmiki has Garuda call himself Rama’s “friend and the life that walks outside him”; this is the seed of the later tradition of the bond of Vishnu and Garuda, told here as a friendship whose secret is kept.

The gist: Sugriva and Sushena plan to fetch the mountain of healing herbs, but before that Garuda comes. Indrajit’s arrows were serpents; at Garuda’s touch the wounds of Rama and Lakshmana close and their strength doubles. Garuda warns them to beware the demons’ trickery and departs, and the glad monkeys surge again to war.

Ravana sends Dhumraksha, and the evil omens

Ravana heard the tumultuous roar of those mighty monkeys thundering with the demons. Hearing that deep, high, resonant sound, Ravana said among his ministers: let it be learned at once why this great joy of the monkeys has risen at a time of grief. From this great roar of countless glad monkeys, like roaring clouds, it is plain that their joy is great, and by it the salt sea too is troubled. But when Rama and Lakshmana lie bound with sharp arrows, this great roar raises a fear in my mind that the two may have been loosed from their bonds.

So saying, Ravana spoke to the demons standing near. At his order those demons, somewhat downcast, climbed the wall and saw the army guarded by the great Sugriva. Seeing the Raghava brothers, mighty ones freed of the grim net of arrows, active, all the demons grew crestfallen. With frightened hearts, those grim, pale demons came down from the wall and came to Ravana, and, downcast of face, told him all the unwelcome news exactly as it was: the two brothers, Rama and Lakshmana, whom Indrajit had bound with an unshakable net of arrows, are seen freed of their bonds in the field, like lordly elephants that have snapped their tethers.

Hearing their word, the mighty Ravana, gripped by anxiety and grief, grew pale of face, and, breathing like a serpent, said: if my foes have been freed even from that binding of weapons, the unerring, sun-bright, serpent-venomous arrows charged by Brahma’s boon with which Indrajit bound them fast in battle, then I see my whole army in doubt. Surely those fire-bright arrows of mine, with which the lives of foes were taken in war, have gone fruitless.

So saying, angry, hissing like a serpent, Ravana said among his demons to the demon named Dhumraksha: hero of dreadful valor, take a great army and go quickly to kill Rama with the monkeys. Spoken to so, Dhumraksha walked in reverence around Ravana and left the palace at once. Coming to the gate, he said to the general: make the army ready at once; what has a man who wants war to do with delay? At Ravana’s order the general at once arrayed the army. Bells bound on, the grim, strong demons, roaring in joy, ringed Dhumraksha.

With mace, spike, iron rod, mallet, bludgeon, bhindipala, spear, noose, and axe, the grim demons went out, roaring like clouds. Other tigers among demons, armored, bright with banner and pennon, went out fearsome as tigers on chariots meshed with gold, on asses of every kind of face, on very swift horses, and on rut-mad elephants. On a wondrous car yoked with asses, its sound like an ass’s bray, harnessed with asses of wolf and lion faces, Dhumraksha mounted. But the moment he set out, evil omens came: meteors fell from the sky; jackal-bitches, vomiting flame, howled; a most dreadful vulture perched on the head of Dhumraksha’s chariot; corpse-eating birds settled on his banner-top; and a bloody, headless white trunk fell to the ground before him and made an unearthly noise. The clouds rained blood, the earth quaked, a contrary wind blew with a sound like thunder, and the quarters, wrapped in dark, could not be seen.

Seeing these dreadful portents, Dhumraksha was troubled, and all the demons before him swooned. But the strong Dhumraksha, ringed by many demons, eager for war, came out and looked on the boundless monkey army, guarded by Rama’s arms, vast as the great sea at the hour of dissolution.

The gist: Hearing that Rama and Lakshmana are freed, Ravana is troubled, and sends Dhumraksha out with an army. The moment Dhumraksha sets out, dreadful omens come; yet he presses on toward the western gate to meet the monkey army, where Hanuman stands.

Dhumraksha slain at Hanuman’s hands

Seeing the demon Dhumraksha of dreadful valor come out, the war-eager, joyful monkeys roared. Then a most tumultuous fight of monkeys and demons broke out, in which they struck each other with grim trees, lances, and mallets. The demons cut the monkeys on every side, and the monkeys laid the demons on the ground with trees. The furious demons kept piercing the monkeys with grim, straight-flying, vulture-feathered sharp arrows. Torn by mace, spike, mallet, bludgeon, and trident, the mighty monkeys still, out of the ardor born of wrath, did fearless deeds.

Pierced by arrows, their bodies cleft by lances, the monkey captains brought up trees and rocks; with peaks they crushed elephants and horses like mountains, riders and all. Leaping and leaping, the monkeys of dreadful valor mashed the demons, tore their faces with sharp claws, and boasted their own names. Their faces downcast, their hair loosed, senseless with the smell of blood, the demons fell to the ground. Some demons were ground down, some vomited blood, some were slit in the side, some heaped up with trees, some crushed with rocks, and some torn with teeth. Some demons were undone with broken banner, sword, and chariot. With palms hard as the thunderbolt, with fists, feet, teeth, and trees, the monkeys crushed them.

Seeing his army in flight, the best of demons, Dhumraksha, in anger, with a rain of arrows began to slay the war-eager monkeys. Some monkeys ran blood, struck by javelins; some fell under mallets; some were cleft by bludgeons and bhindipalas; some, mashed by spikes, gave up their lives. Fighting the demons, some monkeys died bathed in blood, and some were routed. That savage great battle was thick with weapons, close-packed with rocks and trees, and terrible. The sweet twang of the bowstring like a vina, the neighing of horses like a beat, and the trumpeting of elephants like a song made that war ring out like the music of the gandharvas.

The archer Dhumraksha, at the mouth of the war, laughing and laughing, with a rain of arrows scattered the monkeys to every quarter. Seeing his own army tormented by Dhumraksha, the enraged son of Maruta, Hanuman, took a huge rock and came at him. His eyes red with wrath and doubled in fury, valiant as his father, Hanuman dashed that rock down on Dhumraksha’s chariot. Seeing the rock come, Dhumraksha in alarm leapt down at speed from his chariot, mace in hand, and stood on the ground; and the rock crushed his chariot, with its wheels, axle, horses, banner, and bow, and rolled to the earth.

Having broken the chariot, the son of Maruta, Hanuman, set about killing the demons with trees, branches and boughs and all; heads split, drenched with blood and mashed by the trees, the demons fell to the ground. Having routed the demon army, Hanuman took up a mountain peak and rushed at Dhumraksha. Seeing Hanuman charge, the valiant Dhumraksha raised his mace and fell upon him with a roar, and in fury struck that thorny mace on Hanuman’s head. Careless of that grim blow, Hanuman, with the strength of the wind, dashed that mountain peak down on the middle of Dhumraksha’s head. Struck by the peak, every limb crushed, the demon fell suddenly to the earth like a broken mountain. Seeing Dhumraksha dead, the few surviving demons, beaten by the monkeys, ran in terror into Lanka. Having killed the enemy, having made rivers of blood run, weary with his labor, the great son of the Wind, Hanuman, was honored by the monkeys and rejoiced.

The gist: In a grim battle Dhumraksha torments the monkeys with a rain of arrows, but Hanuman first crushes his chariot with a rock, then, taking a mace-blow, dashes a mountain peak on his head and kills him. The surviving demons flee into Lanka.

Ravana sends Vajradamshtra, and the battle with Angada

Hearing that Dhumraksha was dead, the demon lord Ravana, filled with great wrath, hissed like a serpent. Drawing long, hot breaths, fouled with anger, he said to the cruel and mighty Vajradamshtra: hero, go, sally out ringed by demons, and kill Rama, son of Dasharatha, and Sugriva, with the monkeys. Saying “very good,” the illusionist demon lord Vajradamshtra came out at once, ringed by many armies. With elephants, horses, asses, and camels, watchful, painted with banner and pennon, adorned with many captains, wearing a wondrous coat of mail and bearing his bow, he came out at once.

Adorned with a wondrous bracelet and diadem, decked with pennons, having walked in reverence about his bright chariot wrought with molten gold, the general mounted it. Two-edged swords, wondrous iron rods, smooth mallets, slings, bows, spears, spikes, swords, discuses, maces, and sharp axes in hand, foot soldiers of every kind came out with weapons in their grasp. Wearing wondrous garments, the bright demon heroes shone; rut-mad elephants, like walking mountains, came out too. Mahouts with goad and javelin rode the elephants; other brave riders bestrode the mighty, well-marked horses that entered the field. That whole demon army shone like the roaring, lightning-lit clouds of the rains.

From the southern gate, where Angada, the monkey captain, stood, the army came out; and the moment it came out, ill omens rose: from a cloudless sky sharp meteors fell; jackal-bitches, vomiting flame, howled; grim beasts foretold the ruin of the demons; and the advancing warriors stumbled on the ground. Careless of these portents, the splendid Vajradamshtra, holding his courage, eager for war, came out. Seeing them come at speed, the monkeys, filled with the pride of victory, raised a great roar and made the quarters ring.

Then a tumultuous battle of grim and fearful form broke out between monkeys and demons, each longing for the other’s death. Running on in high ardor, they fell to the ground, bodies and necks cut, every limb drenched with blood. With arms like iron bars, brave men who would not turn their backs in war flung weapons of every kind at one another. The heart-piercing grim sound of trees, rocks, and weapons was heard on and on; the tumultuous din of chariot rims, bows, and conch and drum and mridanga rose. Some cast away their weapons and fell to fighting with bare arms; with palm, foot, fist, tree, and knee some demons were killed, and some crushed with rocks.

Vajradamshtra, terrifying the monkeys with his arrows, ranged the field like Antaka, the noose-bearer, at the ruin of the world. The furious demons, skilled in weapons and bearing many arms, began to kill the monkey armies. Seeing this, the bold Angada son of Vali, doubled in fury, set about the slaughter of all those demons like the fire of dissolution. His eyes red with wrath, Angada, taking up trees, fell to a grim battle with those demon bands as a lion with lesser beasts; struck by Angada, the demons of dreadful valor fell with cut heads like felled trees. The ground, covered with chariots, banners, horses, and the corpses of monkeys and demons and streams of blood, grew dreadful; strewn with necklace, bracelet, garment, and weapon, that field shone like an autumn night. Before Angada’s onset that vast demon army trembled like clouds shaken by the wind.

The gist: Enraged, Ravana sends Vajradamshtra with a great army to the southern gate, where Angada stands. Amid ill omens a grim battle breaks out; Angada, in fury, cuts down the demon host, and Vajradamshtra’s army trembles.

Vajradamshtra slain at Angada’s hands

Seeing the slaughter of his army and the strength of Angada, the mighty Vajradamshtra filled with wrath. Drawing his grim bow, bright as the thunderbolt of Indra, with a rain of arrows he covered the monkey armies. Other chief demons, seated in chariots and bearing many weapons, stood their ground and fought. The best of the monkeys, massed on every side, fought with rocks in hand. In that grim battle the demons rained thousands of weapons on the monkey chiefs, and the monkeys, like rutting elephants, rained hills, trees, and huge rocks on the demons.

A grim fight broke out between the brave monkeys, who would not turn their backs in war, and the demon bands. Some with heads split, some with hands and feet cut, their bodies cleft by weapons and bathed in blood, monkeys and demons lay on the ground; and herons, vultures, crows, and packs of jackals fell upon them. Headless trunks, terrifying the timid, sprang up; demons with arm, hand, and head cut and body cleft lay on the ground. Seeing the demons killed and terrified by the monkey army, the splendid Vajradamshtra, his eyes red with wrath, bow in hand, plunged into the monkey army and began to cleave the monkeys with heron-feathered, straight-flying arrows, piercing seven, eight, nine, and five at once. The frightened monkeys, their bodies cleft by arrows, ran to Angada for refuge as subjects to their king.

Seeing the monkey bands broken, Angada son of Vali looked in wrath toward Vajradamshtra. Both, in a great rage, fell upon each other like a lion and a rutting elephant. Then Vajradamshtra, with a hundred thousand flame-tongued arrows, pierced the mighty Angada to the vitals. Bathed in blood, Angada, with dreadful prowess, tore up a tree and hurled it at Vajradamshtra; but the unerring demon cut it to pieces. Then Angada tore up a huge rock and hurled it with a roar; seeing the rock come, the valiant demon leapt down from his chariot, mace in hand, and stood on the ground, and the rock crushed his chariot with its wheels, axle, and horses. Then Angada, tearing up another peak thick with trees, dashed it on Vajradamshtra’s head; vomiting blood, the demon swooned, and, clasping his mace to his chest, drew breath.

Coming to, in great wrath the demon struck his mace on the chest of Angada as he stood, and then, casting off their maces, the two fell to bare-armed combat and struck each other. Weary with blows, vomiting blood, the two shone red as the planets Mars and Mercury. Then Angada tore up a tree, and the demon took a great sword and a shield fitted with a hide of bull and rows of little bells. Wheeling and wheeling through strange, fair paths, longing for victory, roaring, the two struck each other, and with the blood that ran from their wounds they shone like kimshuka trees in flower. Weary, the two sat down on their knees on the ground; but in a mere instant the elephant among monkeys, Angada, rose up, like a serpent struck with a rod, his eyes ablaze, and with a bright, clean-washed sword cut off the great head of the blood-drenched Vajradamshtra. The fair head of that blood-soaked demon, with its rolling eyes, cut off by the sword, fell to the ground and split in two.

Seeing Vajradamshtra dead, the fear-struck demons, beaten by the monkeys, downcast of face, their heads a little bowed in shame, fled wretchedly toward Lanka. Having killed him, honored in the midst of the army, the mighty Angada son of Vali came to joy like the thousand-eyed Indra ringed by the gods.

The gist: The long duel of Angada and Vajradamshtra runs from arrows to rocks to mace to bare arms and at last to the sword; Angada cuts off the head of the blood-drenched Vajradamshtra. The demons flee to Lanka in terror, and Angada is honored like Indra.

Ravana sends Akampana, and the battle in the dark

Hearing that Vajradamshtra had fallen at Angada’s hands, Ravana said to the general who stood with folded hands: put Akampana, skilled in all weapons, at their head, and let dreadful, fierce demons go out at once. This one is a ruler, a protector, and a leader of armies, best in war, ever set on my good and glad in battle. He will conquer Rama, Lakshmana, and the mighty Sugriva, and kill the other grim monkeys too; of this there is no doubt.

At Ravana’s order the swift and mighty general sent out the army. Then the chief demons, bearing many weapons, of dreadful eyes and dreadful mien, went out at the general’s urging. On a huge chariot decked with molten gold, Akampana, cloud-hued, cloud-like, of a great voice like the thunder of clouds, came out ringed by grim demons; because in a great battle even the gods could not shake him, his name was Akampana, the unshakable. As he ran, eager for war, a sudden weakness came into the hearts of his chariot horses, his left eye throbbed, the color of his face went pale, and his voice grew choked; on a fair day it became foul, a harsh wind blew, and all beasts and birds cried in cruel and fearful voices.

Careless of these portents, Akampana, of lion shoulders and tiger prowess, came out toward the field. The moment he came out with his demons, a great roar rose as if it churned the sea, and the vast monkey army was afraid. A grim and furious battle of monkeys and demons broke out, fought with the striking of trees and rocks; ready to give up their bodies for Rama and for Ravana, those overpowering heroes were all like mountains. From the din of them roaring in wrath, longing each to kill the other, earth and sky rang, and the grim red dust risen between them wrapped all ten quarters. Wrapped in that dust white as silk, the creatures could not be seen in the field; neither banner, nor pennon, nor shield, nor horse, nor weapon, nor chariot could be seen. In the dark, monkeys struck monkeys and demons struck demons too; killing friend and foe alike, the monkeys and demons soaked the ground to a mire with blood, and the dust settled with blood, and the earth was covered with corpses.

With trees, javelins, maces, spears, rocks, iron bars, and spikes they began to crush one another. Fighting with arms like iron bars, the fearsome-deeded monkeys killed demons like mountains, and the furious demons, with javelins and spears, cleft the monkeys with grim weapons. The angry general Akampana kept heartening all those demons of dreadful valor. The monkeys too, with great trees and great rocks, and with the weapons they snatched away, cleft the demons. Just then the brave monkeys Kumuda, Nala, Mainda, and Dvivida, in wrath, with a fine ardor, began playfully to slay the demons of many weapons and ground them down with trees.

A key to understanding (the idea): The name “Akampana” means “one who cannot be shaken.” Valmiki gives such name-derivations again and again (Indrajit, conqueror of Indra; Akampana, the unshakable). Here the dust-wrapped battle in the dark is Valmiki’s realistic touch: dust so thick that friend and foe are one, and the warriors strike down their own.

The gist: Ravana makes Akampana his general and sends him out. Ill omens come at once. In the grim, dust-wrapped battle in the dark, friend and foe are no longer told apart; Kumuda, Nala, Mainda, and Dvivida make great slaughter of the demons.

Akampana slain at Hanuman’s hands

Seeing that great deed of the best of monkeys, Akampana felt a sharp wrath in the battle. As if senseless with rage, shaking his fine bow, seeing the enemy’s work, he said to his charioteer: charioteer, drive my chariot quickly to where these strong monkeys are killing many demons. These strong, grim-tempered monkeys, tree and rock in hand, stand before me. Praised in war, I wish to kill them; they have ground all the demon army to nothing.

Then Akampana, best of chariot-warriors, with his swift-horsed car, fell from afar upon the monkeys with a net of arrows. The monkeys could not stand, much less fight; broken by Akampana’s arrows, they all began to flee. Seeing his own kinsmen driven by arrows into the power of death, the mighty Hanuman came to Akampana. Seeing that great monkey, Kumuda, Nala, and the other best of monkeys massed again, and, finding the support of the mighty one, in joy ringed him about.

Akampana rained arrows on Hanuman, standing like a mountain, thick as the downpour of great Indra. But careless of the rain of arrows falling on his body, Hanuman set his mind on the killing of Akampana. The great-splendored son of Maruta, Hanuman, laughing, seeming to shake the earth, rushed at that demon; roaring, blazing with vigor, his form grew hard to face as fire. Knowing himself weaponless, in wrath Hanuman tore up a hill, lifted it in one hand, and, with a great roar, the valiant Hanuman whirled it and ran at Akampana as Indra ran at the slaying of Namuchi. But Akampana, from afar, cleft that mountain peak risen into the sky with great crescent-headed arrows. Seeing the peak, cut by the demon’s arrows, fall scattered in the sky, Hanuman swooned with rage.

Filled with the pride of wrath, Hanuman quickly tore up an ashvakarna tree tall as a great mountain, and, whirling it with great delight, ran at speed, splitting the earth with his feet and breaking the trees as he came. The wise Hanuman killed elephants with their riders, chariot-warriors with their chariots, and demons on foot. Seeing Hanuman, tree in hand, life-taking as Antaka, in wrath, the demons began to flee. Seeing Hanuman furious and charging, the hero Akampana, shaken, roared, and pierced the mighty Hanuman with fourteen sharp, body-tearing arrows. Pierced by darts and lances, the hero Hanuman looked like a mountain covered with trees; huge and mighty, Hanuman shone like an ashoka in flower and like smokeless fire.

Then, tearing up another tree, with a fine ardor Hanuman quickly struck it on the head of the demon lord Akampana; and by the tree-blow, full of wrath, of that great monkey lord, the demon Akampana fell and died. Seeing Akampana dead on the ground, all the demons were shaken like trees quaking in an earthquake. Casting away their weapons, the beaten demons, in terror, beaten by the monkeys, fled toward Lanka; hair loosed, distraught, their pride broken, drenched with the sweat of fear, they fled, looking back again and again. Crushing one another, in fear they crowded into the city.

When the demons had crowded into Lanka, all the mighty monkeys gathered and worshiped Hanuman; and the true-hearted Hanuman too, with friendly look, word, and feeling, honored each of them as was fitting. Filled with the pride of victory, the monkeys roared with all their strength and began to drag off the demons still living. As Vishnu at the front of the army won a hero’s glory by killing the mighty asuras, so, by killing the demons, the great monkey Hanuman won a hero’s glory. At that time the hosts of the gods, Rama himself, the mighty Lakshmana, the monkeys led by Sugriva, and the mighty Vibhishana honored Hanuman.

The gist: As Akampana routs the monkeys with a rain of arrows, Hanuman comes at him; after the use of a mountain peak and an ashvakarna tree, at last he strikes Akampana’s head with a tree and kills him. The demons flee to Lanka, and the gods, Rama, and the monkeys all honor Hanuman.

Ravana sends Prahasta, and the marching out of his army

Hearing of Akampana’s death, the demon lord Ravana, enraged and a little downcast of face, looked toward his ministers. After a moment’s thought, taking counsel with them, the demon king Ravana went about the city of Lanka in the forenoon to inspect all the posts. Seeing the city guarded by demon bands, ringed by many watch-posts, bright with banners and pennons, and seeing it besieged, Ravana said to Prahasta, his well-wisher, skilled in war: I see no deliverance for this city, suddenly besieged and hard-pressed, from the war of another. This burden must be borne by me, or by Kumbhakarna, or by you my general, or by Indrajit, or by Nikumbha. So take this army at once, bear the burden, and go out for victory to where all the monkeys are gathered. The moment you go out, hearing the roar of the roaring demon lords, the monkey army will flee. Fickle, unruly, unstable of mind, the monkeys will no more bear your roar than elephants the roar of a lion. When the army flees, Rama, left without support, will fall with Lakshmana into your hands. To die in doubtful danger is better than an easy death without a risk; whatever you think right for our good, be it pleasant or unpleasant, tell it.

At Ravana’s word the general Prahasta answered the demon lord like Ushanas, Shukra, speaking to Bali, lord of the asuras: king, this matter we have already weighed with the skilled ministers; seeing our different views, there was even a dispute among us. My firm view was that our good lay in returning Sita; failing that, war alone was before us, and war has come just so. You have ever honored me with gift, respect, and every kind of sweet word; then, when the time is come, why should I not do you good? I have no care for my life, nor for son, wife, or wealth; see, I am ready to offer my life in war for you.

So saying to his lord Ravana, Prahasta said to the generals standing before him: quickly muster me a great army of demons; today, from the speed of my arrows, let the flesh-eating birds be sated with the flesh of the monkeys killed in war. Hearing his word, the mighty generals mustered the army near Ravana’s palace. In a moment Lanka filled with demon heroes like elephants, bearing many dreadful weapons. Amid demons who satisfied the fire-god and bowed to the brahmins, a wind blew, fragrant with ghee. Ready for battle, the joyful demons put on garlands of many kinds charged with spells; bearing bow and mail, leaping up at speed, they ringed Prahasta at the sight of Ravana.

Taking leave of the king, having the dreadful kettledrums beaten, Prahasta mounted that fine chariot which roared like a great cloud, shone like sun and moon, was hard to face with its serpent-banner, and, decked with a fair guard-rail and a mesh of gold, seemed to smile with splendor. At Ravana’s order Prahasta, mounting that chariot, ringed by a great army, came out at once from Lanka. Then a drum-roll like thunder, the sound of instruments, and the blast of conches were heard as if filling the earth. Grim-formed, huge demons went ahead, uttering grim cries; Narantaka, Kumbhahanu, Mahanada, and Samunnata, these four ministers of Prahasta, came out ringing him. Ringed by that great army like a herd of elephants, he came out by the eastern gate; ringed by that boundless, sea-vast army, the furious Prahasta came out like Yama at the end of time.

As he came out, at the roar of the demons all the creatures of Lanka shrieked in distorted voices; flesh-and-blood-eating birds wheeled in the sky and traced their circles leftward about the chariot. Ill omens came: jackal-bitches howled, vomiting fire; a meteor fell from the sky; a harsh wind blew; the planets clashed and looked dim; clouds braying like asses rained blood on Prahasta’s chariot and the demons before him; a south-facing vulture perched on the banner-top; the whip fell again and again from the driver’s hand; his rare setting-out splendor was quenched in a moment, and on level ground the horses stumbled. Seeing that renowned Prahasta of famed valor come out, the monkey army of many weapons pressed forward to meet him. Tearing up trees, taking up heavy rocks, the monkeys raised a most tumultuous roar. As demons and monkeys roared, both armies grew glad. Then the ill-fated Prahasta, for victory’s sake, began to plunge into that swelling monkey army like a moth into fire.

A key to understanding (the idea): Prahasta is Ravana’s chief general and old counselor; he himself admits he had advised returning Sita, but now, out of loyalty, he is ready to give his life. The likeness to Ushanas (Shukra) and Bali shows Prahasta as a minister who is like a guru to Ravana. It is a picture of duty and loyalty even on the demons’ side.

The gist: Ravana sends his chief general Prahasta out with a great army. Prahasta, who had earlier advised returning Sita, is now ready out of loyalty to give his life, and comes out by the eastern gate with his four ministers Narantaka and the rest; amid dire omens he plunges into the monkey army.

Prahasta slain at Nila’s hands

Seeing Prahasta come out ready for war, the foe-taming Rama smiled and asked Vibhishana: who is this huge one, ringed by a great army, coming on at great speed? What is his form, his strength, his manhood? Great-armed one, tell me of this valiant night-ranger. Hearing Raghava’s word, Vibhishana answered: this is the demon named Prahasta, Ravana’s general; gathering a third of the demon lord’s army in Lanka, he has advanced. He is valiant, skilled in weapons, brave, and of well-known prowess.

Then the mighty monkey army saw Prahasta come out, of dread prowess, roaring, huge, ringed by demons; a stir ran through them, and they roared before Prahasta. Sword, spear, lance, spike, arrow, mallet, mace, iron bar, javelin, and axes of many kinds in hand, the wondrous bows of the victory-eager demons shone as they sprang at the monkeys. Eager for war, the monkeys took up flowering trees, mountain peaks, and huge, long rocks. Coming face to face, a great battle of monkeys and demons broke out; the two rained stone and arrow on each other.

In the fight many demons killed many monkey chiefs, and many monkeys killed many demons. Some monkeys were ground with spikes, some with the best of weapons, some struck with iron bars, some cut with axes. Some, their breath gone, fell to the ground; some, pierced at the joining of arrows, were cleft in the heart; some, cut in two by swords, fell twitching; some brave ones were slit in the side by the demons. The furious monkeys crushed the demon bands to the ground on every side with trees and peaks; struck by palms and fists hard as the thunderbolt, the demons, teeth and eyes broken, vomited blood from their mouths. Monkeys and demons went on with cries of pain and lion-roars, and a grim tumult rose. Following the way of heroes, the twisted-faced, cruel monkeys and demons did fearless deeds.

Narantaka, Kumbhahanu, Mahanada, and Samunnata, these four ministers of Prahasta, set about killing the monkeys. Of these, Dvivida felled Narantaka, who ran and killed at speed, with a single mountain peak. The monkey Durmukha, rising with a huge tree, crushed the quick-handed Samunnata. The splendid Jambavan, in great wrath, took up a great rock and dashed it on the chest of Mahanada. The valiant Kumbhahanu closed with Tara, and Tara took his life with a great tree.

Unable to bear that deed, the chariot-mounted archer Prahasta made grim slaughter of the monkeys. Furious, drunk with war, the demon began to torment the monkeys with a great stream of arrows. The ground, heaped with the corpses of monkeys and demons, looked as if covered with grim mountains; drenched with streams of blood, it shone like palasha trees in flower in the month of Vaishakha.

A sub-tale: Valmiki tells that battlefield through the figure of a river: the heaps of slain heroes are its banks, the broken weapons the great trees at its edge, the stream of blood its water, the livers and spleens its deep mire, the scattered entrails its moss, the cut trunks and heads its fish, the bits of limbs the grass of the bank, the vultures its swans, the herons its cranes, the fat its foam, and the groaning of the wounded its murmur. It was a river flowing toward the sea of Yama, hard to cross for cowards. The demons and the best of the monkeys crossed that hard river as a lord of the elephant herd crosses a river grown easy at the end of the rains, thronged with swan and crane.

Then Nila saw Prahasta seated in his chariot, loosing streams of arrows, destroying the monkeys, and set about tearing his army, driving it into the sky like a mass of cloud. Seeing him charge, the general Prahasta ran straight at Nila from his sun-bright chariot. Best of archers, Prahasta drew his bow and loosed arrows at Nila; piercing Nila, those arrows sank into the earth like furious serpents. Pierced by arrows, the mighty Nila tore up a tree and struck the charging, hard-to-face Prahasta. Wounded by Nila, the enraged Prahasta rained arrows. As a bull endures the autumn rain with closed eyes, so Nila, unable to check the volleys of that wicked one, bore those unbearable arrows with closed eyes; and with a great sal tree Nila killed Prahasta’s horses.

In fury Nila broke that wicked one’s bow and roared again and again. Left without his bow, Prahasta leapt down from the chariot and, taking a grim mace, ran at Nila. Foes of old birth, full of speed, the two generals stood blood-bathed like rutting elephants, tearing each other with sharp teeth like lion and elephant and behaving like lion and elephant. Valiant, unwilling to turn their backs in war, the two heroes longed for fame like Vritra and Indra. Then Prahasta struck his mace on Nila’s brow, and blood flowed; but the blood-drenched Nila, in wrath, took up a great tree and dashed it on Prahasta’s chest.

Careless of that blow, the strong Prahasta, mace in hand, ran at Nila. Seeing him come, the swift Nila took up a great rock and quickly dashed it on the head of the mace-fighting Prahasta. That grim great rock, hurled by Nila, broke Prahasta’s head into many pieces; his life, splendor, vigor, and senses gone, he fell suddenly to the ground like a tree cut at the root. From his split head and body blood flowed like a mountain spring. At the killing of Prahasta by Nila’s hands, that unshakable, mighty demon army, unhappy, went back to Lanka. With their general dead, they could no more hold, like the water of a broken dam, and, sunk in a keen sea of grief, they grew all but senseless. Spiritless, they went to Ravana’s palace and, in their distress, were struck dumb. The victorious, mighty Nila, meeting Rama and Lakshmana, and praised for his fine deed, rejoiced greatly.

The gist: Prahasta’s four ministers fall at the hands of Dvivida, Durmukha, Jambavan, and Tara. Then Nila fights a grim duel with the arrow-raining Prahasta; first he kills his horses and breaks his bow, then, taking a mace-blow, splits Prahasta’s head with a great rock. With their general dead the demon army breaks and flees to Lanka.

Ravana himself comes to the field, and his first defeat by Rama

When the general Prahasta fell at the hands of the best of monkeys, Nila, Ravana’s army, dread-weaponed and swift as the sea, broke and fled. The surviving demons went to Ravana and told him that the general Prahasta had been killed by Nila, son of Fire. Hearing their word, the demon lord fell into the power of wrath. Grieved by Prahasta’s death and burning with anger, Ravana said to his demon captains, like Indra speaking to the leaders of the gods: the enemy who has killed my general, who ground the army of Indra, with his followers and elephants, must not be slighted. So, for the ruin of the foe and for victory, I will go myself, without further thought, to that wondrous front of war. Today I will burn Rama with the monkey army and Lakshmana with a stream of arrows as a forest is burned with blazing fires; today I will sate the earth with the blood of the monkeys.

So saying, Ravana, foe of Indra, mounted a chariot yoked with fine horses, bright with a frame of gold, blazing like fire. Honored with the sound of conch, kettledrum, and panava, with clapping, war-cries, lion-roars, and holy hymns of praise, the demon king came out. Of a form like a hill of cloud, his eyes bright as fire, ringed by flesh-eating demons, the demon king shone like Rudra ringed by his hosts. Coming out suddenly from Lanka, the great-splendored Ravana reached the fierce monkey army, rock and tree in hand, roaring like the sea and shaking like a cloud.

Seeing that most furious demon army, Rama, of arms like the lord of serpents, followed by the army and rich in splendor, asked Vibhishana, best of the bearers of weapons: whose is this unshakable army, bright with many banners, pennons, and parasols, arrayed with javelin, sword, spike, and weapon, with fearless soldiers and elephants like great Indra’s? Vibhishana named each chief: that hero on the elephant, copper-faced like the new sun, is Akampana. That one shaking a bow like a rainbow, lion-bannered, on a chariot fanged and fierce like an elephant, lord of boons, is Indrajit. That huge one, like the Vindhya, the sunset mountain, and Mahendra, drawing a matchless bow, seated in a chariot, is Atikaya. That one on an elephant, copper-eyed like the new sun, trumpeting with the din of bells, is Mahodara. That one on a gold-decked horse, like the cloud and hill of evening, javelin raised, swift as the thunderbolt, is Pishacha. That yeoman on a bull-lord bright as the moon, sharp trident in hand, is the glorious Trishira. That one of cloud-form, broad-chested, Vasuki-bannered, drawing a bow, is Kumbha. That one, ensign of the demon army, bearing a blazing, smoking iron bar wrought with gold and jewels, of wondrous, grim deeds, is Nikumbha. That one on a chariot bright as fire, bearing bow, sword, and arrow, banner-decked, a fighter from mountain peaks, is Narantaka. And that one ringed by goblins of tiger, camel, elephant, deer, and horse faces and distorted eyes, under a parasol white as the moon, breaker of the pride of the gods, is the demon king himself. Wearing a diadem and swinging earrings, huge as Himalaya and Vindhya, breaker of the pride of Mahendra and Yama, bright as the sun, that is the demon lord Ravana.

Then the foe-taming Rama said to Vibhishana: ah, the blazing, great-splendored demon lord Ravana! Hard to look on as the sun, Ravana glows with his rays; his form, veiled in splendor, I cannot see clearly. Not the body of gods or of danava heroes shines as this demon lord’s body shines. His warriors are all like mountains, mountain-fighters, bearing blazing weapons. Ringed by his goblins, this Ravana of grim form looks like Antaka ringed by grim goblins. By good fortune this sinner has today come into the path of my sight; today I will loose the wrath born of the taking of Sita. So saying, the valiant Rama took his bow and fine arrows and stood, with Lakshmana following him.

Then the mighty Ravana said to the demons near him: stand at ease and untroubled at the chief gates, the houses, and the gate-towers; lest, finding the city empty by my coming here, and seizing this opening, the monkeys should gather, storm, and suddenly wreck this all but impregnable city. Sending off his ministers and demons to their several posts, Ravana, like a great fish cleaving the great ocean, began to cleave the sea of monkeys. Seeing the demon lord come suddenly to the field with blazing bow and arrows, the monkey king Sugriva tore up a great mountain peak and ran at him; but Ravana cut that peak in half in mid-air with gold-feathered arrows. Then Ravana set on his bow a grim arrow like a great serpent, like Antaka, and loosed it swift as the thunderbolt at Sugriva. Loosed from Ravana’s arm, that arrow reached Sugriva and pierced him as the fierce lance of Kartikeya pierced the Krauncha mountain. Struck by the arrow, the swooning Sugriva fell to the ground with a cry, and, seeing him fallen senseless, the glad demons roared.

Then Gavaksha, Gavaya, Sushena, Rishabha, Jyotirmukha, and Nala, these huge monkeys, tore up hills and ran at the demon lord; but with sharp arrows Ravana turned back their blows and pierced those monkey lords with gold-painted-feathered arrows. Pierced by arrows, the huge, brave monkeys fell to the ground, and Ravana covered that grim monkey army with a net of arrows. Tormented by arrows, falling, those heroes, pierced by the barb of fear, ran to Rama their refuge. Then the noble Rama took his bow and moved forward at speed; but Lakshmana, folding his hands, made his plea: noble one, I am able to kill this wicked one; lord, give me leave, and I alone will kill him.

Rama said: Lakshmana, go, and fight with full effort. Ravana is of great valor and wondrous prowess in war; when angered, he is hard to bear even for the three worlds. Seek out his openings and guard your own; with eye and bow keep watch and keep yourself safe. Hearing Raghava’s counsel, and embracing, honoring, and saluting him, Lakshmana, son of Sumitra, went to war.

Seeing Ravana, of arms like elephants’ trunks, his grim, bright bow raised, cleaving the monkeys’ bodies with a rain of arrows, the great-splendored son of Maruta, Hanuman, checked the net of arrows and ran at Ravana. Coming near his chariot, raising his right arm, terrifying Ravana, the wise Hanuman said: from gods, danavas, gandharvas, yakshas, and demons you have won the boon of not being killed, but from the monkeys you have cause for fear. This right hand of mine, raised with its five branches of fingers, will drive out the being that has dwelt so long in your body.

Hearing Hanuman’s word, the fierce Ravana, his eyes red, said: strike at once without fear and win a lasting fame; then, knowing your prowess, I will destroy you. Hanuman said: remember, I have already killed your son Aksha. Hearing this, the great-splendored Ravana struck the chest of the son of the Wind with his palm; struck, Hanuman reeled again and again, but in a moment, holding his courage, the wise and splendid Hanuman grew steady, and in wrath struck that foe of the gods with his palm in turn. At the slap of the noble monkey the ten-necked Ravana was shaken like a mountain quaking in an earthquake. Seeing Ravana struck by the slap, the sages, the monkeys, the siddhas, the gods, and the asuras raised a shout of joy. Recovering his breath, the spirited Ravana said: monkey, well done! You are a foe worthy of praise for your valor. Hanuman answered: shame on my valor, Ravana, that you still live; strike once more, base-minded one, and why do you boast? Then my fist will send you to the world of Yama.

At Hanuman’s word Ravana’s wrath blazed up; his eyes red, Ravana clenched his right fist with care and struck it hard on Hanuman’s chest. Struck on his broad chest, Hanuman reeled again and again. Seeing Hanuman shaken, the great chariot-warrior Ravana moved toward Nila. The monkey general Nila, wounded by streams of arrows, took up a mountain peak in one hand and hurled it at the demon lord; but the great-splendored Ravana crushed that peak to nothing with seven sharp arrows. Then Hanuman, rested, eager for war, said in wrath: Ravana, while you fight with Nila, it is not right that you spring on another. Seeing his peak crushed, the foe-hero-slayer Nila blazed up with wrath like the fire of dissolution.

Nila began to hurl ashvakarna, sal, flowering mango, and trees of many kinds; but Ravana cut them and covered Nila, son of Fire, with a grim rain of arrows. Like a great mountain wrapped in cloud, Nila made his body small and leapt onto the tip of Ravana’s banner. Seeing Nila perched on his banner-top, Ravana blazed with wrath, and Nila was seen leaping and roaring on the banner-top, the bow-top, the crown-top; and Lakshmana, Hanuman, and Rama were struck with wonder at his nimble play. Amazed at the monkey’s lightness, Ravana called up a bright, wondrous fire-weapon, the Agneya. Seeing Ravana troubled by Nila’s nimbleness, the monkeys, their aim won, shrieked in joy. Seeing Nila on the banner-head, Ravana took an arrow charged with the fire-weapon and said: monkey, you have fine illusion and nimbleness; if you can, save your life. Whatever forms you make of yourself, still the arrow I loose, charged with the weapon, will part you from your life. So saying, Ravana struck Nila with the weapon-charged arrow; struck in the chest by the fire-arrow, the burning Nila fell suddenly to the ground, but by the greatness of his father Fire and his own splendor he fell only to his knees, and was not parted from his life.

Seeing Nila senseless, the ten-necked Ravana, eager for war, drove from his cloud-thundering chariot toward Lakshmana. Blazing, standing firm, he twanged his bow. Seeing him challenge, the unamazed Lakshmana said: night-ranger lord, fight with me today; war with monkeys is not worthy of you. Hearing Lakshmana’s full-voiced challenge and the fierce twang of his string, Ravana in wrath said: Raghava, by good fortune you have come into my sight; now, tormented by my net of arrows, this very moment you will go to the world of Yama. Lakshmana answered: vilest one, the great in power do not roar; you boast in vain. Demon lord, I know your strength, your might, and your prowess; bow and arrow in hand, I stand, come; what use is empty boasting?

In wrath Ravana loosed seven fair-feathered arrows, but Lakshmana cut them with gold-feathered sharp arrows. Seeing the arrows cut like severed serpents, the furious Ravana loosed more sharp arrows; and Lakshmana, unafraid, cut them too with razor, crescent, fine kanri, and bhalla arrows. Seeing his net of arrows fruitless, Ravana, amazed at Lakshmana’s nimbleness, loosed more sharp arrows; and Lakshmana, a match for Indra, set on his bow arrows swift as blazing lightning and loosed them for Ravana’s death. Him whose bow was cut, the demon lord, Lakshmana struck with three arrows; wounded by the arrows, Ravana swooned and came to himself with difficulty.

Then, in wrath, Ravana struck at Lakshmana’s chest the shakti given by the self-born Brahma, bright as the flame of the fire of dissolution. Struck in the chest by that shakti of Brahma, Lakshmana, son of Sumitra, remembered himself as an unfathomable portion of Vishnu. Then the god-thorn Ravana, though he pressed the danava-pride-slayer Lakshmana in his arms, could not lift him; with those arms, by which Himalaya, Mandara, Meru, or the three worlds with the gods could be lifted, Ravana could not lift the younger brother of Bharata.

Then the wrathful son of the Wind, Hanuman, ran at Ravana and struck his chest with a fist like the thunderbolt; at that blow the demon lord Ravana fell to his knees on the ground, reeled, and swooned. Much blood ran from his mouth, eyes, and ears; spinning and still, he sat down in the back of his chariot, senseless in his swoon, and could not find his place. Seeing the terrible-prowessed Ravana senseless in the field, the sages, the monkeys, and the gods and asuras raised a shout of joy. Then the splendid Hanuman, taking the shakti-struck Lakshmana in his arms, brought him to Raghava; and by the great love and devotion of the son of the Wind, Lakshmana, unbudging to his foes, grew light for him. Just then that shakti left Lakshmana, beaten in war, and returned to its place in Ravana’s chariot. Coming to, the great-splendored Ravana too took up sharp arrows and a great bow; and Lakshmana, remembering himself as the unfathomable portion of Vishnu, grew easy and whole, the barb gone from him.

Seeing the great monkey army struck down and the great heroes fallen, Rama moved toward Ravana. Hanuman came near and said: lord, as Vishnu, mounting Garuda, chastised the foe of the gods, so, mounting my back, rule this demon. Hearing this, Rama at once mounted the back of the great monkey Hanuman and saw Ravana in his chariot in the field. Seeing him, the great-splendored Rama, like the wrathful Vishnu, discus raised, running at the son of Bali, ran at Ravana. With a string-twang harsh and keen as the grinding of the thunderbolt, in a deep voice Rama said to the demon lord: stop, stop! Having done me such wrong, tiger among demons, going whither will you find release? Though you take refuge with Indra, Yama, and the Sun, with Brahma, Fire, and Shiva, or flee to the ten quarters, still today you will not escape me. That Lakshmana whom today you wounded and swooned with your shakti will, coming to me, become the death of you, with your sons and grandsons. This same enemy, I, killed at Janasthana fourteen thousand demons of fine weapons and wondrous form.

Hearing Raghava’s words, the mighty Ravana struck the very swift son of the Wind, Hanuman, who bore Rama on his back in the field, with arrows bright as the flame of the fire of dissolution. But though struck by Ravana’s arrows, Hanuman, splendid by nature, grew the more in splendor. Seeing Hanuman wounded by Ravana, the great-splendored Rama fell into the power of wrath, and, coming near Ravana, shattered his chariot, wheel, horses, banner, parasol, great pennon, driver, and thunderbolt-spike-sword and all with the sharp points of his arrows. Then, with an arrow bright as thunderbolt and lightning, he struck the broad, fair chest of the foe of Indra, Ravana, as Indra strikes Meru with the thunderbolt. Ravana, who would not reel or grow troubled even at the stroke of Indra’s thunderbolt or lightning, struck by Rama’s arrow, in great distress reeled and let fall his bow. Seeing him unmanned, the noble Rama took up a bright crescent-headed arrow and suddenly cut off Ravana’s sun-colored diadem.

Then Rama said to the demon lord, now like a serpent without venom, like the sun without luster, shorn of splendor, his crown cut off: demon, you have done a great and dreadful deed and killed my brave soldiers; knowing you weary from that, I do not today make you subject to death with my arrows. Lord of night-rangers, worn by the war, go back now to Lanka; rest, and, taking chariot and bow, come out again, and then, seated in your chariot, you will see my strength. Given such comfort, that king, his pride and joy broken, his bow cut, his horses and driver slain, his great crown broken, and himself pierced with arrows, returned suddenly to Lanka. When that foe of Indra, foe of gods and danavas, the mighty Ravana, had gone back, Rama with Lakshmana drew the arrows from the bodies of the monkeys at the mouth of the great war. At the defeat of that foe of the king of the gods, the gods, the guardians of the quarters, the sea, the sages, the great nagas, and the creatures of earth and water all rejoiced.

A key to understanding (the idea): In this canto Rama does not kill Ravana; he cuts off the crown, shames him, and sends him back. This is Valmiki’s deliberate restraint: Ravana is weary, and a hero does not kill a weary foe. To say “rest and come again” is an act of the code of war (kshatra maryada, the warrior’s honor). Lakshmana’s and Rama’s remembering themselves as “an unfathomable portion of Vishnu” is only a brief hint here; Valmiki does not draw it out.

The gist: Enraged by Prahasta’s death, Ravana comes to the field himself, wounds Sugriva, Nila, and many monkeys, and swoons Lakshmana with Brahma’s shakti. Mounting Hanuman’s back, Rama shatters Ravana’s chariot, bow, horses, driver, and crown; but, sparing the weary Ravana, he shames him back with “rest and come again.” At Ravana’s first defeat all the worlds rejoice.

Source: Srimad Valmiki Ramayana, Yuddhakanda, Cantos 23-59 (Gita Press, Gorakhpur).