On this page
When Ravana had fallen and Rama held his kingdom again, the great seers of every direction came to Ayodhya to bless the son of Raghu. From the east came Kaushika, Yavakrita, Gargya, Galava, and Kanva the son of Medhatithi; from the south, Svastyatreya, the lord Namuchi, Pramuchi, Agastya, Atri, Sumukha, and Vimukha; from the west, Nrishangu, Kavasha, Dhaumya, and the great seer Kausheya with their disciples; and from the north the seven eternal seers, the Saptarshi, Vasishtha, Kashyapa, Atri, Vishvamitra, Gautama, Jamadagni, and Bharadvaja. Radiant as fire, masters of the Vedas and the Vedangas, skilled in many sciences, these great souls reached the house of Raghava and waited at the door. The righteous Agastya told the gatekeeper to inform Rama that the company of seers had come. Wise, well-mannered, quick, and steady, the gatekeeper went at once to the presence of the son of Raghu.
The Seers’ Blessing and Rama’s Question
Seeing Rama shining like the full moon, the gatekeeper announced the arrival of Agastya and the other seers. When Rama heard that these sages, bright as the young sun, had come, he asked that they be brought in with honor. He rose the moment he saw those foremost of seers, joined his palms, bowed to them, offered water for their feet and hands, gave a cow, and had seats made ready. On fine seats woven of kusha grass, inlaid with gold and spread with deerskin, they sat as befitted each. Rama asked after their welfare and that of their disciples and elders. Then the seers, knowers of the Vedas, replied that all was well with them, mighty-armed delight of the Raghus.
It is our great fortune, they said, that you appear whole and blessed after destroying your enemies. King, you have slain Ravana, the terror of the worlds, and that is the highest of blessings. Rama, for one who could conquer all three worlds with his bow without a doubt, Ravana and his sons and grandsons were no burden at all. We see you victorious, with Sita and your brother Lakshmana, with your mothers and your brothers. Prahasta, Vikata, Virupaksha, Mahodara, and the unassailable Akampana, all those night-rangers, were killed. Kumbhakarna, whose vast measure no measure on earth exceeded, fell on the battlefield by your hand. Trishira, Atikaya, Devantaka, and Narantaka were slain as well. And Kumbha and Nikumbha, the fearsome sons of Kumbhakarna, died in the fight.
They went on. Yajnakopa, drunk with battle and strong as Death himself, and the raksasa named Dhumraksha, both masters of weapon and missile, dealt terrible slaughter with arrows like Yama’s own before they fell by your hand. You won the single combat against the lord of raksasas, whom even the gods could not kill. That Ravana was overthrown is no wonder, but the death of his son, Indrajit, who met you in single combat, is a matter for deep satisfaction. Mighty-armed one, it is our great fortune that you freed yourself from the serpent-noose of that enemy of the gods and fell upon him like Time and took the victory.
We come to bless you, the seers said, for the killing of Indrajit. That he could be slain, one whom no creature could kill, who wove great illusion in battle, filled us with wonder and joy when we heard it. Kakutstha, increaser of Raghu’s line, you cut down these and many other raksasas who could take any shape at will, and you gave us the gift of safety, and that is our great fortune. Hearing this from those seers who knew the truth of the self, Rama was struck with wonder and answered them with joined palms.
Rama asked: leaving aside the fierce Mahodara, Prahasta, Virupaksha, Matta and Unmatta, Devantaka and Narantaka, Atikaya, Trishira, and Dhumraksha, why do you praise the son of Ravana above them all? What was his power, what his strength and valor, and why is he held greater even than his father? How did he win his boons, and how did he conquer Indra? If this is no hidden secret and fit for me to hear, holy sage, tell me. I do not command you, but I am eager to know.
The gist: After Rama’s coronation the great seers come to bless him. They single out for praise the killing of Indrajit, Ravana’s son. Rama asks after the lineage, the strength, and the history of Ravana and Indrajit. From this question begins the ancient tale of Ravana’s line, which Agastya now tells.
Pulastya’s Austerity and the Birth of Vishrava
Hearing Raghava’s words, the resplendent Agastya, born of a pitcher, spoke. Rama, he said, hear of the great fire and strength of that son by which he destroyed his enemies and stayed unkillable by them. And along the way I will also tell you the lineage of Ravana, his birth, and the boon that was given to him.
Rama, in the ancient Krita age, the first of the ages, there was a famous and powerful brahmarshi named Pulastya, a son of the Lord of Creatures, the very likeness of the Grandsire. His virtue and character were beyond describing; it is enough to say that he was a son of Brahma. Being that Prajapati’s son, he was dear to the gods and, by his own bright qualities, dear to all the worlds. Devoted to dharma, that foremost of sages went to live at the hermitage of Trinabindu, on a flank of the great mountain Meru.
There the righteous one performed his austerity, his senses fixed on the study of the sacred word. The place was thick with trees, lovely in every season and rich in every pleasure, and so the daughters of seers, nagas, and royal sages, and the apsaras too, came there every day to sing and play and make music and dance, and without meaning any harm they disturbed the ascetic’s meditation. Angered, the great sage declared that whoever came within his sight would conceive a child. Hearing the words of that great soul, and fearing the curse of a knower of Brahman, the young women stopped coming to that place.
But the daughter of the royal sage Trinabindu had not heard this, and she wandered the hermitage without fear. She found none of her friends there. At that very moment the radiant son of Prajapati, deep in his austerity, was reciting the sacred word. As she heard the sound of the Veda and looked upon that treasury of penance, her body suddenly turned pale and the signs of pregnancy appeared on her. Seeing the change, she was shaken, and wondered what it could be. Then she went and stood in her father’s hermitage.
Seeing her in that state, Trinabindu asked why her body seemed no longer her own. Humbly, with joined palms, the girl answered: father, I do not know the cause of this change. I went alone into the divine hermitage of the sage Pulastya to look for my friends. I found none of them there, but I saw this transformation come over my form, and in fear I have come here.
Bright with his own penance, the royal sage Trinabindu entered meditation and knew that this was the work of the sage. Understanding the great one’s curse, he took his daughter and went to Pulastya and said: holy one, great seer, my daughter, adorned with her own virtues, has come to you of her own accord; accept this offering. Worn as you are by your austerities, she will forever tend your wearied senses, of that there is no doubt. Hearing such words from the righteous royal sage, the brahmin Pulastya, willing to receive the girl, said, “So be it.”
Having given his daughter, the king went back to his own hermitage. The girl stayed there and won her husband’s heart with her qualities. Pleased by her character and conduct, that foremost of sages told her: fair-hipped goddess, I am greatly pleased with the wealth of your virtues, and so today I will give you a son equal to myself. He will carry on both lines and be famous by the name Paulastya. And because you listened to me as I recited the Veda, hearing it fully, he will surely be known as Vishrava, the one who was heard.
Hearing this the lady rejoiced in her heart, and before long she gave birth to a son named Vishrava, rich in dharma and in fame, renowned through the three worlds. Learned in scripture, even-eyed toward all, devoted to his vows, the sage Vishrava kept to his austerities like his father before him.
The gist: By the curse of Pulastya, son of Brahma, the daughter of Trinabindu conceived. Trinabindu gave her to Pulastya, and from Pulastya she bore the son Vishrava, who would go on to father the line of Ravana.
The Birth of Vaishravana (Kubera) and His Dwelling in Lanka
Vishrava, the son of Pulastya and foremost of sages, soon took up his father’s kind of penance. He was truthful, upright, self-controlled, devoted to sacred study, pure, unattached to every pleasure, and forever fixed in dharma. Knowing his conduct, the great sage Bharadvaja gave him in marriage his own beautiful, goddess-like daughter, Devavarnini. Having received the daughter of Bharadvaja by proper rite, Vishrava longed for a son, for the sake of the people and of his own good.
In Devavarnini, Vishrava begot a wholly wondrous son, full of vigor and endowed with all the qualities of a brahmin. At his birth the grandsire Vishrava was well pleased; and seeing that the child would bring good to the world and be the lord of wealth, he joined with the divine seers and gave him a name. Since he is the offspring of Vishrava and like his father in form, they said, he shall be known as Vaishravana.
Then the resplendent Vaishravana went into a penance-grove and grew like a fire fed with oblations. Living in the hermitage, it came to that great soul that he should practice the highest dharma, for dharma is the supreme goal. In the vast forest he restrained his senses by harsh rules for a thousand years and performed the most fierce austerity. When a thousand years were done, he took up whatever discipline the moment allowed; first he lived on water, then on air, then on nothing at all. So thousands of years passed like a single year.
Then the resplendent Brahma, well pleased, came to his hermitage with Indra and the hosts of gods and said: child, you of good vows, may it be well with you; I am pleased with this labor of yours. Knower of dharma, ask quickly for the boon you desire, that your toil not go for nothing. Then Vaishravana, his voice choked with joy, bowed his head and said: holy one, I wish for the office and the guardianship of a world-quarter. Glad at heart, Brahma said, So be it; I was about to create the fourth guardian of the worlds. You shall become the fourth world-guardian, the equal of Indra, Varuna, and Yama; and take this Pushpaka, the aerial car bright as the sun, for your vehicle, and become like the gods. May it be well with you; having given two boons we return as we came. So saying, Brahma went back to his own place with the gods.
When Brahma and the gods had returned to the sky, the lord of wealth, his spirit humble, said to his father with joined palms: holy one, from the Grandsire I have won the boon I desired, but that Prajapati did not fix a place for me to dwell; lord, tell me of some good abode where no living being will be harmed. At his son’s asking, that foremost of sages, Vishrava, said: knower of dharma, best of the good, listen.
On the shore of the southern sea, he said, there is a mountain named Trikuta. On its summit stands a lovely city named Lanka, vast as the city of the great Indra, built by Vishvakarma, made for the raksasas to dwell in just as Amaravati was made for Indra. Its rampart and its moat are of gold; it is fitted with engines and weapons, and its gateways are of gold and cat’s-eye gem. Long ago the raksasas, tormented by their fear of Vishnu, abandoned it; they all went down to the netherworld, and Lanka now stands empty, without a master. Son, dwell there in Lanka, of that have no doubt; your stay there will be blameless and will trouble no one.
Hearing his father’s most righteous words, that righteous one went to live in Lanka, set upon the mountain’s peak. Under his rule the city soon filled with joyful, delighted throngs of raksasas in their thousands. With the sea for its moat, Vaishravana, the righteous bull of the raksasas, lived there in gladness. From time to time the humble-spirited lord of wealth would go in the Pushpaka to see his mother and father. Hosts of gods and gandharvas sang his praises, apsaras adorned his palace with their dancing, and shining like the sun with his own beams the famed lord of wealth would go to his father’s side.
The gist: From Vishrava and Devavarnini, the daughter of Bharadvaja, was born Vaishravana, that is Kubera. Pleased with his austerity, Brahma made him the fourth guardian of the worlds and gave him the Pushpaka car. On Vishrava’s advice he settled in the empty city of Lanka.
The Rise of the Raksasa Line: Heti, Vidyutkesha, and Sukesha
Hearing Agastya’s words, Rama fell into wonder and said: sinless one, then tell me how raksasas lived in Lanka even before Kubera. Shaking his head and gazing again and again at Agastya, who shone with the light of the three sacred fires, Rama sighed and said: holy one, your saying that Lanka belonged to flesh-eaters even before this fills me with great wonder. We have heard that the raksasas arose from the line of Pulastya, yet now you tell of their birth from elsewhere. Were they stronger than Ravana, Kumbhakarna, Prahasta, Vikata, and the sons of Ravana? Brahmin, who was their forefather, who was that overweening one, and for what offense did Vishnu drive them out, and how? Tell me all of this in full, and like the sun scatter this darkness of my curiosity.
Hearing Raghava’s well-formed and gracious words, Agastya, marveling, spoke. In ancient days, he said, the Lord of Creatures, born of the waters, made the waters and then made beings to guard them. Pressed by the fear of hunger and thirst, those beings came humbly to the maker of all and asked what they should do. Half laughing, Prajapati said, Guard these waters with care. Some of them said, “We will guard,” and some said, “We will worship.” Then Brahma said: those who said “we will guard,” rakshama, let them be raksasas, and those who said “we will worship,” yakshama, let them be yaksas.
A sub-tale: This derivation of the names “raksasa” and “yaksa” turns on a play of words: rakshama, to guard, gives raksasa, and yakshama, to worship, gives yaksa. Valmiki hints here that these beings were of one origin, set to keep watch over the waters; the difference in their natures came from their own choosing.
Among those raksasas were two brothers, Heti and Praheti, lords of the raksasas and destroyers of foes, like Madhu and Kaitabha of old. The righteous Praheti went off to a penance-grove, while Heti set himself to marry. The wise Heti took as his wife a maiden named Bhaya, the sister of Kala, that is Death, a woman of vast terror. On her that foremost of raksasas begot a son named Vidyutkesha, and so was called best among the fathers of sons. Heti’s son Vidyutkesha, radiant as the blazing sun, grew like a lotus in the midst of the waters.
When that night-ranger reached the fullness of his youth, his father set about his marriage. The foremost raksasa Heti had Vidyutkesha married to the daughter of a gandharva named Gramani, who shone with the splendor of Vishvavasu; for Sandhya, the twilight, thinking that a daughter must one day be given to another, gave her own daughter Salakatankata, bright as the twilight, to Vidyutkesha. Winning her, Vidyutkesha sported with her as Indra with Shachi, daughter of Puloma.
After a time, Rama, Salakatankata conceived a child by Vidyutkesha, as a bank of clouds draws water from the sea. That raksasa woman went to Mount Mandara and there bore a son bright as a rain-heavy cloud, as Ganga bore the child conceived by fire, the child of Shiva. Longing to sport again with Vidyutkesha, she left her son and went off with her husband. Abandoned by his mother, the infant cried out like thunder. Bright as the autumn sun, he put his fist to his mouth and wailed softly.
Then Shiva, riding his bull with Parvati beside him, passing along the way of the wind, heard that crying and halted. Moved by Uma’s compassion, Shiva, the destroyer of the three cities, looked upon that weeping raksasa child. The imperishable, unchanging Mahadeva made the raksasa’s son the very age his mother had been, grown at once to youth, and made him deathless too. Uma likewise gave the raksasa women this boon: that they conceive in an instant, deliver in an instant, and that the child in an instant reach the age of its mother. Shiva also gave him a city that moved through the sky. Then, proud with his boon, that wise Sukesha, having gained wealth and glory from Shiva, mounted his sky-going city like Indra himself and ranged everywhere.
The gist: The raksasas were made at the dawn of creation as guardians of the waters. From Heti, then Vidyutkesha, then Sukesha, this line of descent began. Abandoned by his mother, Sukesha was granted by Shiva and Parvati the gift of deathlessness and a city that moves through the sky.
The Sons of Sukesha: Malyavan, Sumali, and Mali
Seeing the righteous, boon-blessed raksasa Sukesha, a gandharva named Gramani, bright as Vishvavasu, gave him his own daughter Devavati, a second Shri, renowned through the three worlds, rich in beauty and youth. Winning her boon-granted, glorious, beloved husband, Devavati was as glad as a poor man who has found wealth. Joined with her, that ranger of the night shone like a great elephant come out of black collyrium.
In time, Raghava, Sukesha begot on her three sons blazing like the three fires: Malyavan, Sumali, and Mali, best among the strong. Like three three-eyed gods, unshaken as the three worlds, fierce as the three fires, terrible with the three powers of a king, the power of majesty, of energy, and of counsel, and dire as the three bodily humors, wind, bile, and phlegm, they grew like neglected diseases.
Knowing that their father had won lordship and boons by the strength of penance, the three brothers resolved and went to Meru to perform austerity. Taking up harsh vows, best of kings, those raksasas performed a penance so fierce it terrified all beings. Endowed with truth, sincerity, and calm, by a penance rare upon the earth they scorched the three worlds, gods, asuras, and men alike. Then four-faced Brahma came to the sons of Sukesha on his finest car and said, I am the giver of boons. Knowing him to be the boon-giver, surrounded by Indra and the hosts of gods, they trembled like trees and said with joined palms: god, if pleased by our penance you grant a boon, then let us be unconquerable, slayers of foes, long-lived, mighty, and devoted to one another.
Saying “So it shall be,” Brahma, the lover of brahmins, went back to Brahma’s world. Having won the boon and grown fearless by it, the three raksasas began to torment gods and asuras. The gods, seers, and charanas they harried found no protector, like men fallen into hell.
In their gladness the raksasas came to the imperishable Vishvakarma, best of craftsmen, and said: great one, it is you who build for the gods their houses full of splendor, fire, and strength; this time build a great house for us too, like the mansion of Mahesha on Himavan, Meru, or Mandara. Then the mighty-armed Vishvakarma told them of a dwelling like Amaravati. On the shore of the southern sea, he said, stands a mountain named Trikuta, and near it another mountain named Suvela. On the middle peak, cloud-high, whose four sides are cut sheer as if by a chisel and are hard even for the birds to reach, by the command of Indra I built a city named Lanka, thirty yojanas broad and a hundred yojanas long, with ramparts of gold and gateways of gold. Foremost of raksasas, dwell in that unassailable city as the gods with Indra dwell in Amaravati. Surrounded by many raksasas, holding the fortress of Lanka, you will be unassailable to your enemies and destroyers of your foes.
A key to reading this (place): This first description sets Lanka on the middle peak of Mount Trikuta on the shore of the southern sea, thirty yojanas broad (roughly 380 to 400 kilometers) and a hundred yojanas long (roughly 1280 to 1300 kilometers). The vastness is poetic, meant to show the Amaravati-like grandeur of the raksasa city, not a measured fact of geography.
Hearing Vishvakarma’s words, those best of raksasas went with their thousands of followers and settled in the city. Winning Lanka with its strong rampart and moat and its hundreds of golden mansions, the night-rangers dwelt there in gladness.
In that same age, delight of Raghu, there was a gandharva woman named Narmada, who had three daughters bright as Modesty, Fortune, and Fame. That woman, no raksasi herself, gave her three gandharva daughters, their faces like the full moon, to the three raksasa lords in order of age. Under the star Uttara-Phalguni, whose deity is Bhaga, the mother gave those blessed maidens. Married, the sons of Sukesha sported with their wives as gods with apsaras.
Malyavan’s wife was a lovely woman named Sundari. By her Malyavan had these sons: Vajramushti, Virupaksha, the raksasa Durmukha, Suptaghna, Yajnakopa, Matta, and Unmatta; and a fair daughter, Anala. Sumali’s wife was Ketumati, her face like the full moon, dearer to him than life. By her Sumali had these sons: Prahasta, Akampana, Vikata, Kalikamukha, Dhumraksha, Danda, the mighty Suparshva, Sanhradi, Praghasa, and the raksasa Bhasakarna; and daughters of pure smiles, Raka, Pushpotkata, Kaikasi, and Kumbhinasi.
Mali’s wife was a beautiful gandharva woman named Vasuda, whose eyes were like lotus petals and who was foremost among the yakshis. By her Mali had these sons: Anala, Anila, Hara, and Sampati. These sons of Mali would one day become the ministers of Vibhishana. Surrounded by hundreds of sons and by night-rangers, proud of their surpassing valor, the three foremost raksasas tormented the gods with Indra, the seers, the nagas, and the yaksas. Ranging the world like the wind, blazing like Death in battle, made arrogant by their boon, they forever wrecked the rites of sacrifice.
The gist: Sukesha’s three valiant sons, Malyavan, Sumali, and Mali, won Brahma’s boon by penance and settled in the Lanka built by Vishvakarma. Marrying the daughters of Narmada, they had many sons, among them Prahasta, Dhumraksha, and Virupaksha, figures of the tale to come. The three brothers tormented the gods and the seers.
The Gods’ Plea and the Coming of Vishnu
Slain by the raksasas Mali, Sumali, and Malyavan and their vanguards, the gods and the seers rich in penance fled in terror to Mahesha, the god of gods, maker and ender of the world, the unborn, the unmanifest, the support of all the worlds, worthy of worship, the highest guru. Coming to the three-eyed foe of Kama and of the three cities, the gods spoke with joined palms in voices choked with fear.
Holy one, lord of creatures, they said, all the people are tormented by the sons of Sukesha, made insolent by the Grandsire’s boon. Our sheltering hermitages have been made places of no shelter. Casting the gods out of heaven, they sport there like gods themselves. Insolent in battle, they torment us, crying, “I am Vishnu, I am Rudra, I am Brahma, I am the king of the gods, I am Yama, I am Varuna, I am the moon and the sun.” God, give safety to us in our fear; put on a terrible form and slay these thorns of the gods.
When all the gods had spoken, Shiva, wearer of matted locks, dark-and-red of throat, who had a certain regard for Sukesha, replied to the hosts of gods. I will not kill them, he said, for those asuras cannot be killed by me; but I will tell you the counsel that will kill them. Seers, with this aim before you, seek the shelter of Vishnu; that lord will slay them. Then, hailing Mahesha with cries of victory, the gods, terrified of the night-rangers, went to Vishnu.
Bowing to the god who bears the conch and the discus, and honoring him, they spoke in agitated voices of the sons of Sukesha. God, they said, by the grace of a boon those three sons of Sukesha, blazing like the three fires, have fallen on our places and seized them. On the peak of Trikuta stands a city hard to reach, named Lanka; from there the night-rangers torment us all. Madhusudana, slay them for our good; we have come to your shelter, lord of the gods, be our refuge. God, cut off with your discus the lotus-faces of these insolent raksasas and give them to Yama, and dissolve our fear as the sun melts the frost.
At their words the god of gods, Janardana, gave the gods the gift of safety that struck fear into their foes, and said: I know the raksasa Sukesha, made insolent by Ishana’s boon, and I know his sons, of whom Malyavan is the eldest. These vilest of raksasas who trample every bound I will slay in my wrath; be free of your fever, gods. Reassured by the mighty Vishnu, the gods rejoiced, praised Janardana, and went to their own places.
Hearing of the gods’ endeavor, the night-ranger Malyavan spoke to his two brave brothers. The gods and seers, he said, went to Shankara wishing our death and said that the fierce sons of Sukesha, made insolent by a boon, torment us at every step; we are overwhelmed by the raksasas, lord of creatures, and cannot stay in our own houses for fear of those wicked ones; three-eyed god, slay them for our good. Shankara answered that the sons of Sukesha could not be killed by him in battle, but that he would tell the means to kill them. And Hari, said Malyavan, has vowed to the frightened gods to slay us; so consider now what is fitting to do.
Malyavan reminded them that this same Narayana had killed Hiranyakashipu and other enemies of the gods; Namuchi, Kalanemi, the hero Sanhrada, the crafty Radheya, the righteous world-guardians, the twin, Arjuna, Hardikya, Shumbha and Nishumbha, and other mighty asuras and danavas never beaten in battle, all slain by Narayana in their hundreds and thousands. Knowing this, he said, we must do what is fitting for the good of us all; Narayana is hard to conquer, and it is he who now means to kill us.
Hearing Malyavan’s words, Sumali and Mali answered their eldest brother as the Ashvins answer Indra. We have read the Vedas, they said, given gifts and made offerings, kept our lordship, won long and healthy lives, and set good order upon the road. Peerless enemies have been conquered; we have no fear of death. Narayana, Rudra, Indra, and Yama all dread ever to stand before us. Lord of raksasas, there is no cause for Vishnu’s enmity; it is only the fault of the gods that has moved his mind. So this very day let us stand as one, guarding one another, and kill the very gods from whom this feud arose.
Having taken counsel so, those mighty foremost raksasas, ringed by their whole army, proclaimed their campaign and went out to battle, furious as Jambha and Vritra. Vast and mighty, the raksasas went out with chariots and elephants and elephant-like horses; and with them came mules, bulls, camels, dolphins, serpents, crocodiles, tortoises, fishes, Garuda-like birds, lions, tigers, boars, and the deer called srimara and chamara. Seeing the doom of Lanka, the other creatures grew heavy-hearted. In their hundreds of thousands the raksasas set out on splendid chariots toward the world of the gods; and the gods came out by that same road to meet them.
Then by the command of Time fearful portents of earth and sky rose up for the destruction of the raksasa lords. Clouds rained bones and hot blood; the seas overran their bounds and the mountains shook. Dread beings and jackals of terrible aspect, laughing and howling like thunderclouds, raised a fearful din. The elements seemed to dissolve in order, and a great wheel of vultures, vomiting flame from their mouths, wheeled over the raksasa host like Death. Red-footed doves and mynahs flew off in haste. Crows cried harshly, and cats and elephants and the rest set up a shrieking.
Scorning those portents, the raksasas, proud of their strength, went on and did not turn back, as if bound in the noose of Death. Blazing like fire, Malyavan, Sumali, and the mighty Mali went before the raksasas. The raksasas took shelter in Malyavan as the gods in Brahma. Under Mali’s lead the raksasa host, roaring like great clouds, marched to conquer the world of the gods. Hearing from his messenger of the raksasas’ endeavor, the lord Narayana set his mind on battle.
Putting on his divine armor, bright as a thousand suns, binding on two spotless quivers full of arrows, girding on his belt and his flawless sword, armed with the conch, the discus, the mace, the Sharnga bow, and the sword, and every finest weapon, the lotus-eyed lord mounted Garuda, vast as a mountain, and set out swiftly for the destruction of the raksasas. On Garuda’s back the dark, yellow-robed Hari shone like a cloud lit with lightning on the peak of Meru. Praised in song by siddhas, gods, seers, great serpents, gandharvas, and yaksas, the enemy of the asura host, bearing discus, sword, Sharnga, and conch, came to that place in due order.
By the wind of Garuda’s wings one part of the raksasa king’s army was blown away, their banners spun about and their weapons slipped from their hands; the raksasa host slid like a blue mountain peak, as if its very rocks were sliding loose. Thousands of raksasas ringed Madhava and struck at him with their finest weapons, smeared with blood and flesh, fierce as the fire at the end of an age.
The gist: Tormented by the raksasas, the gods sought first Shiva and then, on Shiva’s word, Vishnu. Vishnu vowed to destroy them. Malyavan, Sumali, and Mali resolved on war, ignored the portents, and marched toward the world of the gods. Mounted on Garuda, Vishnu came to the field of battle.
Vishnu’s Slaughter of the Raksasas
As clouds pierce a mountain with their rain, the roaring raksasa cloud harried Narayana, who stood mountain-like, with a rain of missiles. Dark-and-fair, robed in yellow, Vishnu was ringed by those blue raksasas as a collyrium-dark peak by raining clouds. As locusts enter a rice field, moths a fire, bees a jar of nectar, crocodiles the sea, and at the dissolution the worlds enter Vishnu, so the arrows of the raksasas, swift as the thunderbolt, the wind, and the mind, entered into Hari.
The raksasa lords, vast as mountains, mounted on chariots, elephants, and horses, and the foot soldiers standing in the sky, so pressed Vishnu with arrow, spear, lance, and javelin that they left him breathless, as breath-control and exercise leave a brahmin without air for a moment. Beaten by the raksasas like a great ocean churned by its fish, the unassailable Vishnu drew the Sharnga and loosed his arrows upon them. Loosed at full draw, keen as the thunderbolt and swift as the mind, his arrows cut down raksasas in their hundreds of thousands.
Having scattered the raksasas with his rain of arrows, as the wind scatters the rain-clouds, the Supreme Person blew his great conch, the Panchajanya. Blown with his full breath, that king of conches gave a fearful blast that shook the three worlds. Its terrible sound so terrified the raksasas as the roar of a lion in the forest terrifies rutting elephants. At the conch-blast the horses could not stand, the rut ran out of the elephants, and the heroes fell from their chariots.
The thunderbolt-like arrows loosed from the Sharnga pierced the raksasas, cut through their bodies, and entered the earth. Struck by the arrows loosed from Narayana’s hand, the raksasas fell to the ground like mountains split by the thunderbolt. From the wounds made by Vishnu’s discus, the bodies of his enemies streamed blood as mountains stream veins of gold. The sound of the king of conches, the twang of the Sharnga, and the roar of Vishnu swallowed up the roar of the raksasas. With his arrows Hari cut away their swaying necks, their arrows, banners, bows, chariots, standards, and quivers.
As fierce rays come from the sun, waves from the sea, great serpents from a mountain, and streams from a cloud, so the arrows loosed from Narayana’s Sharnga sped in their hundreds of thousands into every quarter. As the lion flees from the sharabha, the elephant from the lion, the tiger from the elephant, the leopard from the tiger, the dog from the leopard, the cat from the dog, the serpent from the cat, and the mouse from the serpent, so all the raksasas fled from the mighty Vishnu; some lay dead upon the ground.
Having killed the raksasas in their thousands, Madhusudana filled his conch again with sound, as Indra the king of the gods fills a cloud with water. Terrified by Narayana’s arrows and unmanned by the conch-blast, the broken raksasa army fled toward Lanka. When the raksasa host, struck by Narayana’s arrows, took to flight, Sumali held Hari in check with a rain of arrows. He covered Narayana as frost covers the sun; and the raksasas, taking heart, steadied themselves once more.
Then that raksasa, proud of his strength, fell upon Hari with a great roar, breathing fresh life, as it were, into the raksasas. Lifting an arm long as an elephant’s trunk and heavy with ornaments, he thundered like a lightning-laden cloud. As Sumali roared, Hari cut off the head of his charioteer with its blazing earring; and the raksasa’s horses ran wild in confusion. Dragged this way and that by his maddened horses, the raksasa lord Sumali lurched about like a man of no firmness dragged by the restless horses of his senses.
Then, as the mighty-armed Vishnu fell upon the field of battle and Sumali was hauled about in his chariot by his horses, Mali took up his arrow-fitted bow and rushed at Vishnu’s car. The gold-adorned arrows loosed from Mali’s bow entered Hari’s body like birds into the Krauncha mountain. Pierced by Mali’s thousands of arrows, Vishnu was no more shaken in the fight than a master of his senses by the sorrows of the mind. Then, sounding his bowstring, the lord who sustains all beings loosed a mass of arrows upon Mali. Bright as the thunderbolt and lightning, those arrows reached Mali’s body and drank his blood as serpents drink nectar.
Having turned Mali back, Hari, bearer of conch, discus, and mace, struck down Mali’s crown, his banner, his bow, and his horses. His chariot lost, Mali, best of night-rangers, took up his mace and leaped like a lion from a mountain peak. He brought the mace down on Garuda’s forehead as Death upon Ishana, or Indra with his thunderbolt upon a mountain. Struck hard by Mali’s mace, Garuda, sick with the pain, carried the god away from the field.
As the god was borne from the field by Mali and Garuda, a great shout rose from the roaring raksasas. Hearing their din, the younger brother of Indra, that is Vishnu, grew angry, and though seated crosswise on the king of birds and still turned away, he loosed his discus in his wish to kill Mali. Bright as the disk of the sun, lighting the sky with its own splendor, that discus like the wheel of Time struck off Mali’s head. Cut by the discus, the fearsome head of the raksasa lord fell to the ground vomiting blood, like the ancient severed head of Rahu.
Then the delighted gods raised with their full breath a shout like a lion’s roar, crying, “Well done, god.” Seeing Mali dead, Sumali and Malyavan, scorched with grief, fled toward Lanka with the rest of the army. Reassured, the enraged Garuda turned back and, as before, drove off the raksasas with the wind of his wings. Those whose lotus-faces were cut by the discus, whose chests were crushed by the mace, whose necks were severed by the plow-weapon, whose skulls were broken by the pestle, who were cleft by the sword and beaten by arrows, those raksasas began to fall swiftly from the sky into the waters of the sea.
Though held back by their net of arrows, Narayana with his own net of keen arrows tore apart the wild-haired raksasas as a great cloud lit with lightning tears mountains. That army, its parasols torn, its weapons falling, its garments shredded by arrows, its entrails hanging out, its eyes rolling in fear, was driven half mad. The din and rush of that raksasa host, harried like elephants set upon by a lion, was like elephants trampled by the ancient man-lion. Their heads cut by the discus, their limbs crushed by the mace, their bodies split in two by the sword, the raksasa lords fell like mountains struck by the thunderbolt. With those dark-cloud raksasas struck down, jewel-necklaces and earrings dangling, the earth seemed covered as if blue mountains had been thrown down upon it.
The gist: Vishnu shattered the raksasa army with the arrows of the Sharnga and the blast of the Panchajanya conch. Sumali fled, and Mali fought hard and even wounded Garuda, but in the end Vishnu’s discus struck off Mali’s head. With Mali’s death the raksasa army was defeated.
Malyavan’s Last Battle and the Raksasas’ Flight to the Netherworld
As Vishnu, the lotus-naveled, struck the fleeing army from behind, Malyavan turned back to the fight like a sea returning after it has touched the shore. Red-eyed, his crown trembling with rage, that night-ranger spoke to the lotus-naveled Supreme Person. Narayana, he said, you do not know the ancient law of warriors; you strike us down from some hidden place, we who have no mind for battle and are in flight. Lord of the gods, one who commits the sin of killing a man who has turned his back does not reach the heaven of the meritorious. Bearer of conch, discus, and mace, if you have any faith in fair battle, here I stand; show me the strength that I may see it.
Seeing Malyavan standing unmoved as the mountain Malyavan, the mighty Vishnu, Indra’s younger brother, said to that raksasa lord: I am but keeping the word I gave to the frightened gods, the promise of safety and the uprooting of the raksasas. The gods’ good is mine to do though it cost my life; so even should you go down to the netherworld, I will kill you all. As the lotus-red-eyed god of gods said this, the enraged raksasa lord pierced his chest with a spear. Loosed from Malyavan’s arm, ringing like a bell, that spear flashed on Hari’s chest like lightning in a cloud.
Then Hari, the lotus-eyed, dear to Skanda the spear-bearer, drew out that same spear and hurled it at Malyavan. Loosed from Govinda’s hand like a spear cast by Skanda, it sped toward the collyrium-dark raksasa like a great meteor seeking him out. It fell upon the broad chest of the raksasa lord, adorned with necklaces, like a thunderbolt upon a mountain crag. His body-armor split, and Malyavan sank into a vast darkness of swoon; then, recovering, he stood firm as a mountain.
Then he took an iron pike set with many spikes and drove it hard between the god’s two breasts. Then, drenched in the blood of battle, that night-ranger struck Indra’s younger brother with his fist and drew back the length of a bow. A great cry of “Well done, well done” rose in the sky. Having struck Vishnu, the raksasa beat Garuda too. Then the enraged Garuda blew that raksasa away with the wind of his wings, as a strong wind blows a heap of dry leaves.
Seeing his forefather Malyavan blown off by the wind of the king of birds, Sumali fled toward Lanka with his army. Blown away by the force of those wings, the raksasa Malyavan too, covered in shame, joined his army and went to Lanka. So, lotus-eyed Rama, those raksasas were broken again and again by Hari in battle and their foremost leaders slain. Pressed by the strength of Vishnu and unable to fight him further, they abandoned Lanka and went with their wives to dwell in the netherworld.
Best of the Raghus, sheltering under Sumali, born in the line of Salakatankata, those warriors famed for their valor lived there in the netherworld. Sumali, Malyavan, Mali, and their vanguards, all those great ones, were stronger than Ravana; and the raksasas you killed were of the line of Pulastya. None but the god Narayana, bearer of conch, discus, and mace, could slay these god-enemy raksasas. You yourself are the eternal, four-armed god Narayana; unconquerable, imperishable lord, you have arisen only for the destruction of raksasas. Loving to those who take your shelter, maker of creation, you appear from time to time, when the order of dharma is destroyed, for the killing of the wicked.
Agastya said: lord of men, today I have told you the whole origin of the raksasas as it truly was. Best of the Raghus, now hear the tale of the birth of Ravana and his son, and of their matchless power. Pressed by the fear of Vishnu, the mighty raksasa Sumali ranged the netherworld for a long time with his sons and grandsons; and during that time Vaishravana, that is Kubera, dwelt in Lanka.
The gist: Malyavan alone fought Vishnu hard, but in the end he was blown off by the wind of Garuda’s wings. Defeated, all the raksasas abandoned Lanka and settled in the netherworld. The raksasas Rama killed were of the line of Pulastya, while this line of Malyavan, Sumali, and Mali was a different and stronger one. Now the story of Ravana’s birth begins.
The Birth of Ravana and the Resolve to Practice Austerity at Gokarna
After a time the raksasa Sumali came up from the netherworld into the world of mortals and ranged the whole earth. Dark as a blue cloud, wearing earrings of burnished gold, he led his daughter by the hand, a Lakshmi without her lotus. Ranging the earth, that raksasa lord one day saw the lord of wealth, Kubera, going in the Pushpaka to see his father, the mighty Vishrava, son of Pulastya. Watching him pass like an immortal, like fire itself, Sumali went back from the mortal world into the netherworld in wonder and began to think: what must we do to prosper, how can we rise again?
Then that raksasa spoke to his daughter, whose name was Kaikasi. Daughter, he said, your youth is passing, and this is the time you should be given; for fear of refusal, suitors do not ask for you. Little daughter, for your sake we have all striven with righteous minds; you are the very Lakshmi, endowed with every virtue. To be the father of a daughter is a grief to those who care for honor, for it is not known who will take her. A daughter forever keeps three families in suspense, her mother’s, her father’s, and the family to which she is given. So, daughter, choose for your husband, of your own will, the foremost sage born in Prajapati’s line, Paulastya, that is Vishrava. Daughter, you will have sons like that lord of wealth, blazing like the sun; of that there is no doubt.
Hearing her father’s words, out of regard for him the girl went and stood where Vishrava was performing his austerity. At that very moment, Rama, the twice-born Vishrava, son of Pulastya, was making the fire-offering with the fourth fire. Out of regard for her father, giving no thought to that dread and inauspicious hour, she went before him, her face lowered, her eyes fixed on his feet, scratching at the ground again and again with her toe. Seeing that fair-hipped woman, her face like the full moon and bright with her own splendor, the most generous sage said: gentle one, whose daughter are you, from where have you come, what is your purpose, tell me the truth, lovely one.
So asked, the girl answered with joined palms: sage, by your own power you can know my mind. Brahmarshi, know only this, that I have come at my father’s command; my name is Kaikasi; the rest you may know yourself. Then the sage entered meditation and said: gentle one, I have understood the cause in your mind. Woman who walks like a rutting elephant, you wish offspring of me; but because you have come to me in this dread hour, hear what kind of offspring you will bear, dread, dread of form, dear to a dread line. Fair-hipped one, you will bear raksasas of cruel deeds.
Hearing this she bowed and said: holy one, from you, a knower of Brahman, I do not wish such ill-conducted sons; be gracious. At her words Vishrava, radiant as the full moon, spoke again to Kaikasi, who was like Rohini: fair-faced one, your last-born son will be gentle-hearted and righteous, worthy of my line; of that there is no doubt.
So spoken to, Rama, after a time the girl bore a most dread and monstrous raksasa form with ten heads, great tusks, dark as a heap of blue collyrium, copper-lipped, with twenty arms, a vast mouth, and blazing hair. At his birth flame-vomiting jackals and flesh-eating beasts wheeled counter-sunwise; the clouds rained blood and rumbled harshly, the sun did not shine, and great meteors fell to earth. The earth shook, dread winds blew, and the unshakable sea grew troubled. Then his father, like the Grandsire himself, gave him his name: because he is born of ten necks, he said, he shall be Dashagriva.
After him was born the mighty Kumbhakarna, whose vast measure no measure on earth exceeded. Then was born Shurpanakha of the misshapen face. And Kaikasi’s last son was the righteous Vibhishana. At the birth of that great-souled one flowers rained down, the kettledrums of the gods sounded in the sky, and a voice cried “Well done, well done” in the air.
In that great forest the mighty Kumbhakarna and Dashagriva, terrors of the world, grew up. The reckless Kumbhakarna ranged the three worlds, forever unsatisfied, devouring the great seers who loved dharma. But the righteous Vibhishana lived ever fixed in dharma, of measured diet, devoted to sacred study, master of his senses.
Now after a time the god Vaishravana, the lord of wealth, came in the Pushpaka to see his father. Seeing him bright with splendor, the raksasi Kaikasi came to Dashagriva and said: son, look at your brother Vaishravana in his splendor; and look at yourself, so poor a thing though you are his equal in brotherhood. Dashagriva of boundless valor, strive so that you too may become like my son Vaishravana.
Hearing his mother’s words, the mighty Dashagriva was filled with matchless envy and made a vow. I promise you truly, he said, that I will become the equal of my brother or more; put aside the grief in your heart. Then, in that same anger, Dashagriva, wishing to do a hard thing, set his mind on penance with his younger brothers, resolving, “By penance I will win what I desire,” and came for his own perfection to the holy hermitage of Gokarna. Fierce in his might, that raksasa performed matchless austerity there with his brothers and began to please the mighty Grandsire, and pleased, Brahma granted them victory-giving boons.
The gist: Sumali’s daughter Kaikasi went to Vishrava. Because their union came in an inauspicious hour, her sons Dashagriva (Ravana), Kumbhakarna, and Shurpanakha turned out cruel, while the last-born, Vibhishana, was righteous. Envious of the splendor of his half-brother Kubera, Ravana resolved with his younger brothers to perform austerity at Gokarna.
The Austerities and the Boons
Rama asked the sage: brahmin, what kind of penance did those mighty brothers perform in the forest? Agastya, well pleased, told Rama that each brother took up the discipline that suited him.
Ever fixed on the path of dharma, Kumbhakarna in summer stood amid five fires with the sun above; in the rains he kept the hero’s posture, drenched by the water of the clouds; and in the cold he stayed always in the midst of the water. So, striving in dharma and holding to the good road, ten thousand years of his passed. Pure and forever devoted to dharma, the righteous Vibhishana stood on one foot for five thousand years; and the self-controlled Vibhishana passed ten thousand years as if he had lived in the garden of Nandana. Dashanana took no food for ten thousand years, and at the completion of each thousand years he offered one of his heads into the fire.
In this way nine thousand years passed and nine of his heads went into the fire. In the tenth thousand of years, when Dashagriva was about to cut off his tenth head, the Grandsire Brahma appeared there. Well pleased, standing with the gods, Brahma said: Dashagriva, I am pleased with you; knower of dharma, ask quickly for the boon you desire, that your toil not go for nothing. Then Dashagriva, his soul thrilled, bowed to the god and said in a voice choked with joy: holy one, for living beings there is no fear but the fear of death; there is no enemy like death; I ask for deathlessness.
Then Brahma said: full deathlessness is not possible for you; ask some other boon. Dashagriva said with joined palms: lord of creatures, eternal one, I wish to be unkillable by Garuda, nagas, yaksas, daityas, danavas, raksasas, and gods; but for men and other creatures I have no care, immortal-honored one, they are as straw to me. So spoken to, Brahma said: foremost of raksasas, so it shall be; and hear further, in my pleasure I give you another good boon. The heads you offered into the fire, raksasa, shall be restored as before; and, gentle one, I give you one more rare boon, that you may take any form you wish. As he spoke, the heads Dashagriva had offered into the fire rose up again.
A sub-tale: A deep irony hides in Ravana’s boon. He asked to be unkillable by gods, gandharvas, yaksas, raksasas, and the rest, but he held men in contempt and left them out. That one omission opens the door to his death at the hands of Rama, Vishnu in human form. In every clause of the boon, his own pride sows the seed of his fall.
Having spoken so to Dashagriva, the Grandsire of the worlds said to Vibhishana: child Vibhishana, righteous one whose mind holds fast to dharma, I am well pleased with you; you of good vows, ask a boon. Vibhishana, endowed with every virtue as the moon with its beams, said with joined palms: holy one, I am fulfilled that the very teacher of the worlds is pleased with me. You of good vows, if in your pleasure you grant a boon, hear it: let my mind stay in dharma even in the utmost calamity; let the Brahmastra spring up in me untaught; and in whatever station of life whatever thought arises in me, let it be righteous, and let me keep that dharma; most generous one, this I count the single highest boon.
Brahma said: for those devoted to dharma nothing in the world is hard to win; child, righteous as you are, so it shall be. Destroyer of foes, because even born in a raksasa womb your mind does not turn to unrighteousness, I grant you deathlessness.
Having so spoken to Vibhishana, as Brahma made ready to give a boon to Kumbhakarna, all the gods said with joined palms: do not give Kumbhakarna a boon; you know that this ill-minded one is a terror to the three worlds. Brahmin, he has devoured seven apsaras of the garden of Nandana, ten attendants of the great Indra, and seers and men. Without a boon he has wrought such havoc; with a boon he will eat up the three worlds. Immeasurably bright one, under the pretext of a boon lay a delusion upon him; so the worlds will be spared and his honor kept.
At the gods’ words, the lotus-born Brahma called to mind his wife, Sarasvati. At his call the goddess Sarasvati came and stood beside him and said with joined palms: god, I have come, what shall I do? Brahma said: goddess of speech, become in the mouth of the raksasa lord the words the gods desire. Saying “So be it,” she entered into Kumbhakarna’s mouth. Then Brahma said: mighty-armed Kumbhakarna, ask the boon you desire. At this, moved by Sarasvati, Kumbhakarna said: god of gods, my wish is to sleep for many years. Saying “So it shall be,” Brahma went off with the gods, and Sarasvati too left the raksasa.
When Brahma and the gods had gone to the sky and Sarasvati had left him, the wicked-souled Kumbhakarna came to himself and grieved, wondering how such a word could have left his mouth; I understand, he thought, that the gods who came then laid a delusion upon me. So those brothers of blazing splendor, having won their boons, went to the Shleshmataka forest and lived there in ease.
The gist: By his penance Ravana offered nine of his heads into the fire; Brahma appeared and granted him invulnerability to gods, gandharvas, yaksas, and the rest, the return of his heads, and the power to take any form (men he held in contempt and left out). Vibhishana asked for steadfast dharma and deathlessness. Sarasvati sat upon Kumbhakarna’s tongue, and he asked for many years of sleep.
Kubera Abandons Lanka and Ravana Is Crowned
Knowing now that the night-rangers had won their boons, Sumali cast off his fear and came up with his followers from the netherworld. Maricha, Prahasta, Virupaksha, and Mahodara, that raksasa’s ministers, rose too with great eagerness. Ringed by his ministers and by foremost raksasas, Sumali came to Dashagriva, embraced him, and said: child, it is our good fortune that you have won the desire you longed for; you have won the finest boon from Brahma, best of the three worlds. Mighty-armed one, the great fear that Vishnu had set upon us, for which we left Lanka and went down to the netherworld, is gone now. Broken again and again by that fear, we abandoned our home and all of us with our followers went down into the netherworld.
Sumali said: that same city of Lanka, which we raksasas built, your wise brother the lord of wealth now holds. Sinless, mighty-armed one, if it can be won back by conciliation, gift, or force, then our purpose is accomplished. Mighty-armed one, without doubt you shall be the lord of Lanka; you have lifted up the sunken line of the raksasas; great in strength, you shall be lord over us all. Then Dashagriva said to his mother’s father who stood before him: lord of wealth, it is not fitting to speak so of our elder, my brother Kubera.
So refused by conciliation, the raksasa said nothing more to the venerable raksasa lord, for he understood Dashagriva’s intent. Some time later, as they lived there, the raksasa Prahasta spoke reasoned and humble words to Ravana, who had spoken so. Mighty-armed Dashagriva, he said, it is not fitting for you to speak thus; there is no brotherhood among heroes, hear this word of mine. The sisters Aditi and Diti, mutually loving, were the wives of Prajapati Kashyapa. Aditi bore the gods, lords of the three worlds, and Diti bore the daityas begotten by Kashyapa. King, knower of dharma, this earth with its forests, seas, and mountains was once the daityas’, for they were mighty. The mighty Vishnu killed them in battle and brought this imperishable threefold world under the sway of the gods.
Prahasta said: you will not be the only one to act against a brother; even gods and asuras did this before, so heed my word. Reflecting a moment, Dashagriva, his soul thrilled, said, So be it. In that same gladness the valiant Dashagriva went that very day to the forest with those raksasas. Standing on Trikuta, Dashagriva made the eloquent Prahasta his envoy and said: Prahasta, go quickly and say to the foremost raksasa, the lord of wealth, in my name, and by conciliation, these words.
Going to Lanka, into that well-guarded city, Prahasta said to the most generous lord of wealth: you of good vows, mighty-armed one, best of all who bear arms, your brother Dashagriva has sent me to you. Great and wise one, learned in all the sciences, lord of wealth, hear what Dashanana says. This lovely city was once enjoyed by the raksasas led by the fierce Sumali. Son of Vishrava, it is now the share they ask back; father, they ask it by conciliation, so return it to them.
Hearing this from Prahasta, the god Vaishravana, best of the eloquent, replied. This Lanka, he said, was given to me by my father when it stood empty of night-rangers; I settled it by gift, honor, and other virtues. Go and tell Dashagriva that my city and my kingdom are his; mighty-armed one, enjoy an unchallenged realm here; my kingdom and all my wealth are undivided with him. So saying, the lord of wealth went to his father.
Bowing to his father, he told him Ravana’s wish: father, Dashagriva has sent an envoy to me, that the city of Lanka, once built by the raksasas, be returned to me; you of good vows, tell me what I should do. So asked, the foremost sage, the brahmarshi Vishrava, said to the lord of wealth with joined palms: son, hear my word.
Dashagriva said this to me too, he said, and I rebuked that most ill-minded one and reasoned with him at length; in anger I told him again and again that he would come to ruin. Son, now hear my counsel, wholesome and in keeping with dharma. Deluded by his boon, that most ill-minded one no longer weighs what is honorable and what is not; by my curse too he has come to a dread nature. So, mighty-armed one, leave Lanka with your followers and go to dwell on the mountain-bearing Kailasa. There among the rivers is the fair and lovely Mandakini, its water covered with sun-golden lotuses, night-lilies, water-lilies, and other fragrant flowers. There gods, gandharvas, apsaras, nagas, and kinnaras roam and forever take their pleasure. Lord of wealth, enmity with that raksasa is not for your good, for you know that he has won the single highest boon.
So spoken to, out of regard for his father Kubera obeyed and left Lanka with his wife and sons, his ministers, his vehicles, and his wealth. Then that enemy of the gods, Dashagriva, climbed into the Lanka of broad royal avenues, abandoned by the lord of wealth, as Indra the lord of gods climbs into heaven. Anointed by the night-rangers, Dashanana settled the city, and it filled at his pleasure with dark-cloud night-rangers. And out of regard for his father’s word the lord of wealth built on the moon-bright Kailasa mountain a city adorned with fine and splendid mansions, as Indra built Amaravati in heaven.
The gist: Sumali and Prahasta urged the boon-blessed Ravana to take Lanka back. On the message of Ravana’s envoy Prahasta, the generous Kubera offered to give him Lanka and the kingdom; but on Vishrava’s counsel Kubera himself left Lanka and founded a new city on Kailasa. Ravana became king of Lanka.
The Marriages and the Birth of Meghanada
Crowned with his brothers, the raksasa lord Ravana thought of his sister’s marriage. He gave his sister, the raksasi Shurpanakha, in marriage to the danava lord Vidyujjihva, son of Kalaka. Having given her, the raksasa went out to hunt; and there, Rama, he saw Maya, son of Diti, who was with his own daughter.
Seeing him with his daughter, the night-ranger Dashagriva asked: who are you, and why do you stand in this forest, empty of men and beasts, with this doe-eyed girl? Then Maya said: hear, I will tell you all as it happened. Father, there was an apsara named Hema, if you have heard of her. As Shachi, daughter of Puloma, was given to Indra, so the gods gave Hema to me; and I lived with my heart set on her for a thousand years. Then she went away for fourteen years on the gods’ business. For that same Hema I made by my magic a wholly golden city, inlaid with diamond and cat’s-eye; without her I lived there wretched and full of sorrow.
Maya said: I have come to the forest from that city with my daughter. King, this daughter of mine was borne in Hema’s womb; I have come to find a husband for her, for to be the father of a daughter is a grief to those who care for honor. A daughter forever keeps two families in suspense. By that wife I had two sons also, first Mayavi and after him Dundubhi. Father, on your asking I have told you all as it truly is; now how am I to know who you are?
So asked, the raksasa said humbly: I am the grandson of Pulastya and the son of the sage Vishrava, who was third from Brahma; my name is Dashagriva. Hearing this, the danava Maya was glad to know him for the son of a great sage and there and then wished to give him his daughter. Placing her hand in his, the danava lord Maya said, smiling, to the raksasa lord: king, accept as your wife this daughter of mine, Mandodari, reared by the apsara Hema. Rama, Dashagriva said, So be it.
Then, kindling a fire there, he took her hand in marriage. Rama, though Maya rich in penance knew the curse of Vishrava, still, knowing Ravana’s line from Brahma, he gave his daughter. Maya also gave him an unfailing, most wondrous spear won by his great penance, with which Ravana would one day strike down Lakshmana. So the lord of Lanka, having taken a wife, went to his own city and brought wives for his two brothers as well. Ravana made Vajrajvala, granddaughter of Bali son of Virochana, the wife of Kumbhakarna. And Sarama, the righteous daughter of the great gandharva king Shailusha, born on the shore of Lake Manasa, became the wife of Vibhishana.
A sub-tale: The naming of Sarama is bound to Lake Manasa. In the rains the lake was swelling; then the girl’s mother, in her love, cried out, “Sarah ma vardhaya,” O lake, do not grow. From that “sarah-ma” the girl took the name Sarama.
Now in the season of the rains Lake Manasa was swelling; the girl’s mother, in her love, cried out, O lake, do not grow; and from this she was called Sarama. Having married so, the raksasas sported there with their wives like gandharvas in the garden of Nandana. Then Mandodari bore a son named Meghanada.
This is that same Meghanada whom you all call Indrajit. At his very birth Ravana’s son gave a great cry like thunder, at which, Raghava, Lanka stood stunned. From this his father himself named him Meghanada, roar of the cloud. Rama, in Ravana’s fair inner apartments, guarded by the finest women, delighting his mother and father, he grew like fire hidden in wood.
The gist: Ravana married Shurpanakha to Vidyujjihva. Mandodari, daughter of the danava Maya, became Ravana’s wife (Maya also gave him an unfailing spear). Kumbhakarna won Vajrajvala and Vibhishana won Sarama. Mandodari bore Meghanada (Indrajit), whose roar left Lanka stunned.
Kumbhakarna’s Sleep, Ravana’s Outrages, and Kubera’s Envoy
Now after a time the deep sleep sent by Brahma, lord of the worlds, began to overcome Kumbhakarna in Lanka in the form of yawning and the rest. Then Kumbhakarna said to his brother, seated near: king, sleep is tormenting me; have a dwelling built for me. Then the king set craftsmen like Vishvakarma to the work. For Kumbhakarna they built a house one yojana broad and twice that long, smooth, fair to see, unhindered, adorned everywhere with strange pillars of crystal and gold. Its stairways were of cat’s-eye gem, its lattices set with nets of little bells, its doors of ivory, and its platforms of diamond and crystal. Ravana had it made lovely, filled with every comfort, pleasant in every season, like a holy cave of Meru. There, sunk in sleep, the mighty Kumbhakarna slept for many thousands of years and did not wake.
While Kumbhakarna was overcome by sleep, Dashanana, with nothing to check him, made havoc of gods, seers, yaksas, and gandharvas. In great fury Dashanana went into the strange gardens like Nandana and wrecked them. Sporting in the rivers like an elephant, uprooting trees like the wind, shattering mountains like Indra’s thunderbolt, that raksasa ranged about.
Knowing Dashagriva’s ways, the righteous Vaishravana, remembering the conduct that befit his line, sent an envoy to Lanka to show brotherly feeling and for Dashagriva’s own good. That envoy went to Lanka and came to Vibhishana, who honored him according to dharma and asked the reason for his coming. After asking the welfare of the king and his kinsmen, Vibhishana brought him before Dashanana, seated in council. Seeing the king bright with his own splendor, the envoy honored him with a cry of “Victory” and stood in silence. Then to Dashagriva, seated on a fine couch spread with rich coverings, the envoy spoke.
King, said the envoy, I tell you all that your brother has said; hero, this counsel befits both your conduct and your line. He says: what you have done until now is enough; if you can, take your place well within the order of dharma. I have seen the garden of Nandana wrecked by you, I have heard of the seers you have slain, and, king, I have heard of the gods’ endeavor against you. Lord of raksasas, again and again you have slighted me; yet a man must protect his kinsmen even when they offend, even when they are as children.
The envoy went on, in Kubera’s words: for the worship of dharma I went to the back of Himavan, taking up a fearsome vow, self-controlled and restrained. There I saw the lord god with Uma; by chance my left eye fell there upon the goddess. Great king, in her matchless form the consort of Rudra stood there; I looked only to know who she was, for no other reason. By the divine power of the goddess my left eye was burned, and the other, like a dust-dimmed light, turned tawny.
The envoy said: then I went to another broad flank of that same mountain and, keeping silence, took up a great vow of eight hundred years. When that vow was complete, the god Mahesha appeared there and said, well pleased: knower of dharma, you of good vows, I am pleased with this penance of yours; lord of wealth, this vow I once kept, and now you have kept it; no third man can perform such a vow, for this most difficult vow I myself brought forth in the past. Gentle lord of wealth, so make friendship with me; sinless one, won over by your penance, I have become your friend.
Shiva said: because by the goddess’s power your left eye was burned and by looking on the goddess’s form the other turned tawny, you shall forever be known by the name Ekakshipingala, the one with a single tawny eye. The envoy said: having so won friendship and leave from Shankara, on my way back I heard of your resolve to sin. So turn away from this unrighteousness that stains your line. The gods with their hosts of seers are devising the means of your death.
So spoken to, Dashagriva, his eyes red with rage, wringing his hands and grinding his teeth, said: envoy, I have understood the words you speak; neither you shall live, nor that brother who sent you. What this guardian of wealth says is not for my good. The fool boasts of his friendship with Mahesha; what you have said I cannot forgive. Envoy, I have borne with him this long only because he thinks that, being the elder brother, I will not kill him. But now, hearing this word of his, I have made up my mind that by the strength of my arms I will conquer even the three worlds. This very hour, for that one alone, I will send all four guardians of the worlds to the abode of Yama.
So saying, the lord of Lanka killed the envoy with his sword and gave his corpse to the wicked raksasas to eat. Then, longing to conquer the three worlds, Ravana had the brahmins perform the rites of blessing, mounted his chariot, and set out for the place where the lord of wealth dwelt.
The gist: A vast mansion was built for Kumbhakarna, in which he slept for thousands of years. Ravana began to torment the gods and the seers. Kubera’s well-meaning envoy warned him and told the story of Kubera’s friendship with Shiva and of the name Ekakshipingala. Enraged, Ravana killed the envoy and resolved to march against Kubera.
The Assault on the Yaksas and Ravana’s Victory
Then Ravana, forever insolent with strength, went out ringed by his six ministers, Mahodara, Prahasta, Maricha, Shuka, Sarana, and the ever battle-hungry hero Dhumraksha, seeming to scorch the worlds with his wrath. Crossing cities, rivers, mountains, forests, and groves, the glorious Ravana reached Mount Kailasa in a single moment.
Hearing that the wicked raksasa lord had come, eager for battle with his ministers and seated on that mountain, the yaksas could not stand before him and went, knowing him the king’s brother, to where the lord of wealth was. They told him all their brother’s intent; and with the leave of the lord of wealth they went out gladly to battle. Then the tumult of the raksasa king’s forces swelled like the sea, as if shaking the mountain. The yaksas could not stand before that raksasa; then a fierce battle of yaksa and raksasa broke out, and the raksasa’s ministers were hard-pressed.
Seeing his army in such straits, the night-ranger Dashagriva, roaring in joy, rushed forward in fury. Each of the raksasa lord’s fierce ministers fought a thousand yaksas apiece. Struck by mace, pestle, sword, spear, and lance, Dashagriva plunged into the enemy host. Pierced by the yaksas’ arrows like a mountain by streams of cloud-water, he could hardly breathe; yet, wounded, drenched as a mountain by a hundred streams, he was not shaken. Then, raising a mace like the rod of Death, the great Dashagriva plunged into the host, sending the yaksas to the abode of Yama.
With that mace, like a fire driven by the wind through wide thickets and scattered dry fuel, he burned the yaksa army. Under those great ministers, Mahodara, Shuka, and the rest, the yaksas were scattered like clouds before the wind, and few were left. Some, wounded and broken, fell in the fight; some in their fury bit their own lips with sharpened teeth. Exhausted, throwing down their weapons, embracing one another, the yaksas sank like banks cut away by water. With the hosts of seers who watched, some dying and going to heaven, some fighting, some fleeing, there was no room left in the sky.
Seeing those mighty yaksa lords broken, the mighty-armed lord of wealth sent more yaksas. Meanwhile, Rama, a yaksa named Sanyodhakantaka, of vast force and vehicles, was sent by the lord of wealth. In the fight he struck Maricha with a discus like Vishnu’s; Maricha fell from the mountain to the ground like a planet whose merit is spent. Struck by a gateway-pillar hurled from the mountain peak, he was broken and fled. Then in a moment, recovering and resting, he fought that yaksa; and that yaksa too was broken and fled.
Then Ravana crossed the gold-figured gateway, inlaid with cat’s-eye and silver, the last bound guarded by the doorkeepers. There a doorkeeper named Suryabhanu stopped the night-ranger Dashagriva as he entered. Though the yaksa barred him, the raksasa kept forcing his way in; Rama, when the raksasa would not halt though barred, the yaksa tore a pillar from the gate and struck him with it. Streaming blood, Dashagriva shone like a mountain streaming its veins of ore. But by the boon of the Self-Born the hero took no lasting hurt. Then, struck by that same gateway, the yaksa was burned to ash and seen no more.
Seeing the raksasa’s valor, all began to flee; racked with fear, exhausted, their faces pale, throwing down their weapons, they went and hid in the rivers and the caves.
The gist: Ravana with his six ministers attacked Kubera’s yaksas on Kailasa. The yaksas fought hard, and Maricha and even Ravana were wounded, but by Brahma’s boon Ravana took no lasting hurt. In the end the yaksas fled and hid in the rivers and caves.
The Defeat of Manibhadra and Kubera, and the Seizure of the Pushpaka
Seeing his yaksa lords terrified in their thousands, the lord of wealth said to the great yaksa Manibhadra: lord of yaksas, kill this ill-conducted, wicked-minded Ravana; be the refuge of the battling yaksa heroes. So spoken to, the hard-to-conquer, mighty-armed Manibhadra fought on, ringed by four thousand yaksas. Then the yaksas fell upon the raksasas, striking with mace, pestle, javelin, spear, lance, and club, fighting a tumultuous battle at the speed of hawks, crying, “Strike hard,” “No, seize him, take him.” The gods, gandharvas, and seers who knew Brahman watched that tumultuous battle in great wonder.
In that fight Prahasta killed a thousand yaksas, Mahodara killed a thousand faultless heroes; and, king, the enraged and eager Maricha killed two thousand more in the blink of an eye. Tiger among men, how could the plain, straight fighting of the yaksas match the trickery and magic of the raksasas; and so the raksasas held the upper hand in the battle.
In that great fight Manibhadra closed with Dhumraksha, and though struck in the chest by a pestle in his fury he did not flinch. Then Manibhadra whirled his mace and struck the raksasa Dhumraksha on the head, and he fell senseless. Seeing Dhumraksha struck down, drenched in blood, Dashanana rushed at Manibhadra in the fight. As Dashanana charged in fury, the foremost yaksa Manibhadra struck him with three spears. Struck, Dashanana in turn struck Manibhadra on the crown; by that blow his crown was knocked to one side. From then on that yaksa was called Parshvamauli, the one whose crown is turned aside. When the great Manibhadra was turned back, king, the raksasas’ great shout swelled upon that mountain.
Then from afar the mace-bearing lord of wealth was seen, ringed by his two ministers Shukra and Praushthapada and by the presiding deities of his two treasures, Padma and Shankha. Seeing his brother, robbed of honor by a curse, in the fight, that wise one spoke words worthy of a line of Brahman.
Kubera said: fool, though I stopped you, you do not understand; but you will understand later, when the fruit of your evil deeds sends you to hell. He who in his folly drinks poison and does not know it for poison knows the fruit of that deed only in its consequence. Your mind is such that not even a rite of dharma pleases the gods, and, moved by that displeasure, you have set yourself to this violence, and you do not see it. He who dishonors mother, father, brahmin, and teacher goes into the power of Yama and there sees the fruit of it.
Kubera went on: he who does not gather penance in this impermanent body, that fool goes to his own fate at death and later repents. From dharma come kingdom, wealth, and happiness; from unrighteousness comes only sorrow; so for happiness practice dharma and abandon sin. The fruit of sin is sorrow, which one must suffer alone; so the fool sins only for his own ruin. Wisdom does not spring up of itself in the ill-minded; as one acts, so is the fruit one gets. Prosperity, beauty, strength, sons, wealth, and heroism men win in this world only by meritorious deeds. So you are bound for hell, because your mind is such; I will speak no more with you, for this is the verdict upon the wicked.
So saying, Kubera struck; then his ministers, Maricha and the rest, turned and fled. Then that great yaksa lord struck Dashagriva on the head with his mace, but he did not stir from his place. Then, Rama, in that great battle yaksa and raksasa struck at each other, and neither faltered nor tired.
Then the lord of wealth loosed the fire-weapon at Ravana; the raksasa lord checked it with the water-weapon. Then the lord of raksasas entered into raksasa magic and took on a hundred thousand shapes to destroy the yaksas. Dashanana showed himself as tiger, boar, cloud, mountain, sea, tree, yaksa, and daitya. Having made all these shapes, he vanished from sight.
Then, Rama, Dashanana took up a great weapon, a huge mace, whirled it, and struck the lord of wealth on the head. Struck by it, faint and drenched in blood, the lord of wealth fell to the ground like an ashoka tree cut at the root. Then, ringed by Padma and the other treasure-deities, Kubera, revived and brought to his senses, was carried to the garden of Nandana. Having conquered the lord of wealth, the raksasa lord, his heart glad, took his aerial car, the Pushpaka, as a trophy of victory.
A sub-tale: The Pushpaka car was made by Vishvakarma: set with golden pillars, its doors of cat’s-eye gem, hung with nets of pearl, planted with trees that bear fruit in every season; swift as the mind, moving at will and taking any shape at will; with stairways of jewel and gold and altars of burnished gold; imperishable, forever pleasing to eye and mind, neither too cold nor too warm, pleasant in every season. This same car returns again and again through the tale, down to Rama’s own journey to Ayodhya.
The Pushpaka had golden pillars, doors of cat’s-eye gem, nets of pearl, and trees that bore fruit in every season; it was swift as the mind, going where its owner willed and taking any shape at will, with stairways of jewel and gold and altars of burnished gold; imperishable, pleasing to eye and mind, full of many wonders and strange, delicate craft, made by Vishvakarma, fulfilling every desire, lovely, unmatched, neither cold nor hot, a fair car pleasant in every season. Climbing into that car, which moves at will and was won by valor, the ill-minded king in the arrogance of his pride began to think he had conquered the three worlds. Having conquered the god Vaishravana, he came down from Kailasa.
Having won that vast victory by his own valor, seated on that finest car, wearing a spotless crown and necklace, the glorious night-ranger shone like fire set in the hall of sacrifice.
The gist: Having beaten Manibhadra, Ravana faced Kubera. Kubera gave him a teaching on dharma, but Ravana wove his magic, struck Kubera senseless with a great mace, and seized his Pushpaka car. Flush with the pride of victory, he came down from Kailasa.
Nandishvara’s Curse and the Sword from Shiva
Rama, having conquered his brother Kubera, the lord of raksasas came to that great reed-forest where Mahasena, that is Kartikeya, was born. There Dashagriva saw the golden reed-forest, ringed with light, like a second sun. Climbing a mountain with a lovely grove upon it, he found that the Pushpaka had halted there. Ringed by his ministers, the raksasa lord wondered: why has this car that goes at will halted, why does it not move; surely this is the work of someone who dwells on this mountain.
Then the wise Maricha said: king, the Pushpaka does not halt without a cause; or else this Pushpaka bears no one but the lord of wealth, and so, parted from him, it has become still. As he spoke, an attendant of Shiva named Nandishvara, dwarfish, dark-tawny, gaunt, misshapen, shaven-headed, short-armed, strong, and forever glad, came near and spoke to the fearless raksasa lord.
Nandi said: Dashagriva, turn back; Shankara is at play on this mountain, and for that reason it has been made impassable to Garuda, nagas, yaksas, gods, gandharvas, raksasas, and all beings. Hearing Nandi’s words, Ravana, his earrings trembling with anger and his eyes turned copper-red with rage, got down from the Pushpaka and came to the foot of the mountain, saying, “Who is this Shankara?” There, near the god, he saw Nandi standing like a second Shankara, leaning on his blazing pike.
Seeing his ape-like face, the raksasa scorned him and there began to laugh loud as a water-laden cloud. Then the enraged lord Nandi, who was but another form of Shankara, said to Dashanana who stood near. Night-ranger, he said, I could kill you here and now if I wished; but I do not kill you, for you are already slain by your own deeds.
Nandi went on: Dashanana, because you scorned my ape-like form and loosed a laugh like a thunderbolt, apes shall be born for the destruction of your line, filled with my energy, blazing with a form like mine. Their nails and their teeth shall be their weapons, their speed like the mind; cruel, drunk with battle, swollen with strength, they shall look like moving mountains. Joining as one they shall strip away your fierce pride and your arrogance of strength, along with your ministers and your sons. Night-ranger, I could kill you now, but I do not kill you, for you are already slain by your own deeds. As that great god said this, the kettledrums of the gods sounded and flowers rained from the sky.
Scorning Nandi’s words, the mighty raksasa went up to the mountain and said: it was because of this mountain that my Pushpaka halted as I passed; so, lord of the bull, I will uproot it. By what power does this Shiva forever sport here like a king; he does not know, though he is fit to know, that a present danger has come upon him. So saying, he thrust his arms beneath the mountain and lifted it swiftly, and the mountain shook violently.
As the mountain moved, the god’s attendants trembled, and Parvati, held in Mahesha’s embrace, was shaken. Then, Rama, Mahadeva, foremost of gods, pressed the mountain down with the toe of his foot, as if in play. His mountain-pillar arms were pinned, and the raksasa’s ministers standing there were astonished. As his arms were crushed, the raksasa in his pain loosed such a cry that the three worlds shook. His ministers thought it the crash of the thunderbolt at the end of an age; then Indra and the other gods stumbled on their paths. The seas grew troubled, the mountains shook; yaksas, vidyadharas, and siddhas cried, “What is this?”
His ministers said to him: Dashanana, propitiate the blue-throated Mahadeva, lord of Uma; we see no other refuge here than he. Bow to him with hymns and take his shelter; the merciful Shankara, well pleased, will show you his grace. At their words Dashanana praised the bull-bannered god with the many hymns of the Sama Veda and bowed to him. So a thousand years passed for the weeping raksasa.
Then the lord Mahadeva, seated on the mountain peak, was pleased, and, Rama, freeing his arms from the press, said to Dashanana. Brave Dashanana, he said, I am pleased with your manliness and valor and your praise. Because, pressed beneath the mountain, you loosed a cry so dread that the three worlds cried out in fear, for this reason, king, you shall be famed by the name Ravana, the one who makes the worlds cry out. Gods, men, yaksas, and the other creatures of earth shall call you Ravana, terror of the worlds. Paulastya, now go untroubled by whatever road you wish; lord of raksasas, you have my leave, go.
At Shambhu’s words the lord of Lanka himself said: Mahadeva, if you are pleased, grant your suppliant a boon. I have already won invulnerability from gods, gandharvas, danavas, raksasas, guhyakas, nagas, and other mighty beings; god, I do not count men, they are the least to me. Ender of the three cities, I have won long life from Brahma; grant me what I ask of the remainder of my life, and give me a weapon too. So spoken to, Shankara gave him a great blazing sword named Chandrahasa, and the lord of beings on that occasion granted him the remainder of his life.
As he gave it, Shambhu said: do not treat this sword with contempt; if you dishonor it, without doubt it will return to me. So named by Mahesha himself, Ravana bowed to Mahadeva and climbed again into the Pushpaka. Then, Rama, Ravana ranged the earth and tormented mighty warrior kings here and there. Some brilliant, war-drunk warrior kings who would not obey him perished with their families. Others, wise and accounted prudent, who knew the raksasa unconquerable, said to the strength-proud raksasa that they were beaten.
The gist: When the Pushpaka halted on Kailasa, Nandi stopped Ravana; scorned, Nandi cursed him that apes would destroy his line. When Ravana lifted the mountain, Shiva pressed it down with his toe; from Ravana’s cry came his very name, Ravana. Pleased by his praise, Shiva gave him the sword Chandrahasa.
The Curse of Vedavati
King, as the mighty-armed Ravana ranged the earth, he came to a forest of the Himalaya and wandered there. There he saw a maiden clad in black deerskin, her hair matted, bright with the discipline of the seers, like a goddess. Seeing that maiden of great vows, rich in beauty, Ravana, seized by the delusion of desire, asked her with a half-smile.
He asked: gentle one, what are you doing here? This is against your youth; such a way of life does not befit your beauty. Timid one, your matchless beauty stirs the madness of desire in men; it is not fitting for you to keep to penance, this is my mind’s verdict. Gentle one, whose are you, what is this, fair-faced one, who is your husband; the man who enjoys you is blessed upon the earth. Tell me all, why this hardship?
At Ravana’s words the glorious maiden, rich in penance, gave him due hospitality and said: my father’s name was Kushadhwaja, a brahmarshi of measureless splendor. He was the glorious son of Brihaspati, his equal in wisdom. From that great soul, forever studying the Veda, I was born, a daughter made of the sacred word, and so was called Vedavati. Then gods with the gandharvas, yaksas, raksasas, and nagas came to my father, wishing to wed me, but, lord of raksasas, my father gave me to none of them.
Vedavati said: mighty-armed one, I will tell you why, hear it. My father wished for Vishnu, the lord of the three worlds, as his son-in-law, and so he would not give me to any other. Hearing this, a strength-proud king of the daityas named Shambhu grew angry; and one night, as my father slept, that wicked one killed him. Then my wretched, blessed mother embraced my father’s body and entered the fire.
Vedavati went on: then, to make true my father’s wish concerning Narayana, I held him in my heart, resolving, “I will win him alone.” Holding to that vow I practice great penance. Foremost of raksasas, I have told you all. Narayana is my husband, that Supreme Person and no other; wishing to win Narayana, I keep this fierce discipline. King, by my penance I know all that is in the three worlds; I have known you too; go, son of Pulastya.
Then Ravana, pierced by the arrows of desire, got down from the front of the car and spoke again to that maiden of great vows: fair-hipped one, one whose mind is such is full of pride; fawn-eyed one, gathering merit by penance suits old women. Woman rich in every virtue, it is not fitting for you to speak so; timid one, you are the most beautiful in the three worlds and your youth is passing. Gentle one, I am Dashagriva, the lord of Lanka; be my wife and enjoy pleasures at your ease. This Vishnu of whom you speak, who is he; the one you desire, slender woman, is not my equal in vigor, penance, pleasure, or strength.
At his words Vedavati said: do not speak so, do not speak so; who but you, thinking himself wise, would so insult Vishnu, lord of the three worlds, whom all the worlds revere? At these words the raksasa seized her by the hair. Enraged, Vedavati made her hand a sword and cut off her own hair. As if burning with rage and scorching the raksasa, she kindled a fire and, quick to embrace death, said: base one, dishonored by you, I do not wish to live.
Vedavati said: raksasa, therefore before your eyes I will enter the fire. Because in this forest you, a sinful soul, dishonored me, I will be born again for your killing; for a woman cannot slay a man of settled sin. If I curse you my penance will waste away; so if I have done, given, or offered anything of merit, let me be born unborn of any womb, the pure daughter of a righteous man. So saying, she entered the blazing fire. Then a rain of divine flowers fell from the sky on every side.
A key to reading this (concept): To be “unborn of any womb” means to be born not from a mother’s womb. Vedavati’s vow bears fruit in Sita, who arose from the furrow of a plow (Sita), not from a womb. Here Valmiki ties the secret thread between the birth of Sita and the death of Ravana.
She was born again as a maiden bright as the heart of a lotus. Her too the raksasa found as before; taking up that lotus-radiant maiden, he carried her home. Holding Vedavati by the hand, Ravana showed her to his minister. Reading her marks, the minister skilled in signs said to Ravana: if this fair-hipped woman stays in your house, she will be the cause of your death. Rama, hearing this, Ravana threw her into the sea.
Reaching the earth from the sea, she came into the midst of a sacrificial ground; drawn out by the plow-tip of King Janaka, that pure one was born again. Lord, that same Vedavati was born as the daughter of King Janaka and is your wife; mighty-armed one, you are the eternal Vishnu himself. The enemy she once burned in her wrath she has now had killed in this birth, taking refuge in your more-than-human valor.
So this blessed lady will be born again and again in the world of mortals, springing up in the plowed field drawn by the plow-tip like a tongue of fire on an altar. She who was known before, in the Krita age, by the name Vedavati, was born, when the Treta age came, for the killing of that raksasa, as the daughter of the great Janaka in the line of the kings of Mithila. Because she came from the furrow, Sita, men call her Sita.
The gist: In the Himalaya, Ravana violated the ascetic Vedavati. As she entered the fire she cursed him, vowing to be born again for his killing. That same Vedavati was later born as Sita, daughter of Janaka; this was the seed of Ravana’s end.
Marutta’s Sacrifice and the Boons to the Birds
When Vedavati had entered the fire, Ravana climbed into the Pushpaka and ranged the earth once more. Reaching Ushirabija, Ravana saw King Marutta performing a sacrifice in the company of the gods. A brahmarshi named Samvarta, brother of Brihaspati and a knower of dharma, was conducting the sacrifice, ringed by all the hosts of gods.
Seeing that raksasa, hard to conquer by grace of his boon, the gods, in fear of his attack, took on the forms of birds and beasts. Indra became a peacock, Yama the king of dharma became a crow, the lord of wealth a lizard, and Varuna a swan. When the other gods too had changed their shapes, destroyer of foes, Ravana entered the sacrifice like an unclean dog. The raksasa lord Ravana went to King Marutta and said: give me battle, or say, “I am beaten.”
Then King Marutta asked: who are you? Casting off his scornful laugh, Ravana said: king, I am pleased with your fearlessness, that you do not know me, Ravana, the younger brother of the lord of wealth. Who else in the three worlds does not know my strength, who conquered his brother and seized this car?
Then King Marutta said to Ravana: you are blessed to have conquered your elder brother in battle. In the three worlds there is none so praiseworthy as you; what matchless dharma did you practice before that you won your boons? I have never before heard such a thing as you tell of yourself; ill-minded one, halt now, you will not return alive. Today with keen arrows I send you to the abode of Yama. So saying, the king rose in fury with bow and arrow to fight, but Samvarta barred his way.
That great seer said with affection to Marutta: if my word is worth hearing, battle is not for you; this sacrifice to Mahesha, if left unfinished, will burn up your line. What has one consecrated for sacrifice to do with battle, what with anger; victory is forever in doubt, and this raksasa is very hard to conquer. Turned back by his teacher’s word, King Marutta laid down his arrow-fitted bow and, composing himself, turned again to the sacrifice.
Taking him for beaten, Shuka announced in joy at the top of his voice, “Ravana conquers.” Then Ravana devoured the great seers who had come to the sacrifice and stood there, and, sated with their blood, ranged the earth once more.
When Ravana had gone, the gods with Indra took back their own forms and spoke to those birds and beasts. In gladness Indra said to the blue-feathered peacock: knower of dharma, I am pleased with you; you shall have no fear of serpents. These thousand-eyed marks shall be upon your feathers; and when I rain, you shall know joy in the form of the sign of love. So did Indra, the lord of gods, grant a boon to the peacock. Lord of men, before this the peacock’s feathers were only blue; winning the king of gods’ boon, all peacocks gained those marks over their whole bodies.
Rama, Yama the king of dharma said to the crow that sat before him upon the eastern hall of the sacrificial ground: bird, I am pleased with you; hear the word of one who is pleased; as other creatures are tormented by various diseases from me, those diseases shall have no power over you, of that there is no doubt. Bird of the sky, by my boon you have no fear of death; you shall live until men kill you. And those men in my realm who are tormented by hunger shall be sated, with their kin, when you take your food.
Varuna said to the swan that moved on the water of the Ganga: lord of the winged, hear a word of love; your color shall be lovely to the mind, gentle, pure as the disk of the moon, bright as white foam. Coming into contact with my body, the water, you shall forever be beautiful and win matchless love; this shall be the sign of my love. Rama, before this the swans’ color was not wholly white; their feathers were blue at the tips and their breasts dark as the tips of young grass.
Then Vaishravana, the lord of wealth, said to the lizard sitting on the rock: lizard, I too am pleased with you and give you a golden hue. Your head shall forever be imperishable like fine gold; by my love your color shall become like gold. Having granted these boons to those creatures, the gods, at the close of the sacrifice, returned with their king Indra to their own dwellings.
The gist: At Marutta’s sacrifice in Ushirabija Ravana came; the frightened gods became peacock, crow, lizard, and swan. On the counsel of his teacher Samvarta, Marutta held off from battle. Ravana devoured the seers and went. Then the gods granted boons to those birds and beasts whose forms they had taken, and so came the peacock’s eyed feathers, the crow’s fearlessness, the swan’s white color, and the lizard’s golden head.
Anaranya’s Curse: The Ikshvaku Line Speaks Its Seed
Having beaten Marutta, the battle-thirsty Dashanana, lord of raksasas, now moved toward the cities of the kings. Coming to kings mighty as Mahendra and Varuna, he would say the same: give me battle, or say that you are beaten. This is my resolve. For whoever will not do so, there is no escape.
Taking counsel among themselves, those kings, though fearless, wise, very strong, and firm in dharma, recognized the boon-born strength of their enemy and accepted defeat. Dushyanta, Suratha, Gadhi, Gaya, and King Pururavas, Rama, all these said, “We are beaten.” Then, reaching Ayodhya, which Anaranya guarded as Indra guards Amaravati, Ravana went to that best of men and said: give me battle, or say, “I am beaten.”
Hearing the words of that sinful one, Anaranya, lord of Ayodhya, filled with anger and said: raksasa king, we grant you single combat, two warriors face to face. Wait a little, make ready; we too are making ready. Anaranya had had word beforehand, and so had gathered a great army. Ten thousand elephants, a hundred thousand horses, thousands of chariots and foot soldiers went forth covering the earth. Then a fierce battle broke out between Anaranya and Ravana. Striking against Ravana’s army, fighting for a long time, the king’s whole host was consumed like an oblation cast into fire, like moths in a flame.
Seeing his mighty army destroyed, as if a hundred rivers had reached the sea and vanished, King Anaranya himself, nearly fainting with rage, came upon Ravana twanging his bow like the rainbow. Maricha, Shuka, Sarana, and Prahasta, beaten by him, fled like deer. Then Anaranya rained eight hundred arrows on the raksasa king’s head, but those arrows did no more harm than streams of water falling on a mountain peak. Then the enraged Ravana struck him on the head with his palm so that he fell from his chariot, like a sal tree burned by the thunderbolt falling in the forest.
Ravana said with a laugh: king of the Ikshvaku line, what have you gained by clashing with me? In the three worlds there is none who can fight me. Lost in your pleasures, you must not have heard talk of my strength. The dying king answered: I am not beaten by you, self-praising raksasa; I am destroyed by Time itself, and you are only its instrument. As my life goes, what can I do? I did not turn from battle; I am killed fighting.
You have insulted the line of Ikshvaku, said Anaranya, and so we curse you. If we have given gifts, made offerings, practiced penance, and guarded our people well, then let our word come true. In this same line of Ikshvaku a great soul named Rama, the son of Dasharatha, shall be born; he shall take your life. As this curse was spoken the kettledrums of the gods thundered and flowers rained from the sky. King Anaranya went to heaven, and the raksasa moved on from there.
A key to reading this (name): Anaranya is an ancestor of Rama, a king of the Ikshvaku line. This curse is the seed of the Uttarakanda that foretells Ravana’s death at the hands of Rama himself. Again and again Valmiki shows that Ravana’s end at the hands of a man was the very limit written into his boon.
The gist: After Marutta, Ravana ranged the earth challenging its kings. Anaranya, king of Ayodhya, fought alone and fell as a hero, and with his dying breath he cursed Ravana that Dasharatha’s son Rama would take his life, which became a seed of Ravana’s end.
Narada’s Warning and the March Toward Yama
Tormenting the men of the mortal world, Ravana one day met the divine seer Narada among the clouds in the sky. Dashagriva bowed to him, asked his welfare, and wished to know the reason for his coming. To Ravana seated in the Pushpaka, Narada, riding a cloud with measureless splendor, said: son of Vishrava, gentle one, wait. We are pleased with your exploits. As Vishnu destroyed the daityas, so you have overthrown the gandharvas and the nagas, and at this we are well satisfied.
But, father, we will say one thing, hear it. Why do you, whom even the gods cannot kill, ravage this world of mortals? This world is already fallen under the power of death, as good as dead. That world of men, whom gods, danavas, daityas, yaksas, gandharvas, and raksasas cannot kill, is not even worthy of you. What will you gain by killing creatures gripped by a hundred diseases and old age, deluded by joy and sorrow? You have conquered this world already, of that there is no doubt.
All creatures must go at last to the abode of Yama. So, descendant of Pulastya, conqueror of enemy cities, conquer Yama himself. Conquer him, and you have conquered all, of that there is no doubt. Hearing this, the lord of Lanka laughed, bowed to Narada, and said: great seer who love the sport of gods and gandharvas and the joy of battle, we were bound for the netherworld to conquer it, then to conquer the three worlds, subdue the nagas and the gods, and churn the sea for nectar.
Narada asked: then why do you go by this other road? This hard road leads to the city of Yama. Laughing with a roar like an autumn cloud, Ravana said: take it as done. Brahmin, I have resolved to make an end of Yama, and so I go to the south, where the son of the sun, Yama, dwells. In my anger I have vowed to conquer all four world-guardians. I have set out for the city of the king of the fathers; the maker of creatures’ sorrow I will join to death. So saying, bowing to the sage, Ravana went south with his ministers.
Narada, sunk a while in thought, blazing like a smokeless fire, wondered: how will Ravana conquer Time, before which the whole moving and unmoving three worlds, and even Indra, tremble as their allotted life runs out by dharma? He who is a second fire, who knows the gifts and deeds of all, by whose splendor all creatures gain consciousness and motion, how will Ravana himself lay hold of him? And if he does bring Yama under his power, what new order will he then make? Filled with curiosity, Narada resolved to go himself to the abode of Yama, to see the battle of Yama and the raksasa.
A key to reading this (concept): Narada here is more than a bearer of tales; he is a force that drives events. By sending Ravana toward Yama he raises an impossible question: can any creature conquer Time itself? That question is the axis of the cantos to come.
The gist: Narada told Ravana that the world of mortals was already in the grip of Time, so he should conquer Yama himself. Ravana, in his anger, set out to the south, toward the abode of Yama, and out of curiosity Narada too went there to watch the battle with Yama.
The Vision of Hell in Yama’s Realm and the Destruction of Yama’s Host
Narada went swiftly to the abode of Yama, so that he could tell all as it happened. There he saw Yama, the all-witnessing fire set before him, giving to each creature its judgment according to its deeds. Seeing Narada come, Yama gave him the water of welcome by dharma, seated him at his ease, and asked his welfare. Narada said: Yama, honored by the divine seers, is all well? Is dharma not perishing? What is the reason for your coming? Hear, I tell you my purpose, and you take counsel. A night-ranger named Dashagriva is coming by his valor to bring you under his power. For this I have come in haste; now what will you do, you who have made your rod your weapon?
Just then he saw from afar Ravana’s Pushpaka shining like the rising sun as it came. Scattering the darkness of that quarter with the car’s brightness, the mighty Ravana drew near. Then Dashagriva looked about him: creatures were suffering their merit and their sin. The dread, terrible attendants of Yama were beating and striking the creatures, and they shrieked aloud.
Along the way Ravana saw hundreds of thousands of beings: some devoured by worms and dreadful dogs, some driven again and again across the blood-flowing river Vaitarani, some walking on burning sand, some cut in the sword-leaf forest by leaves like blades, some driven across salt water and over the edge of razors, some crying for water in thirst and hunger, and some, feeble as corpses, filthy, their hair loose, running to and fro. He saw the meritorious as well, who by the fruit of their good deeds rejoiced in fine mansions amid song and music: givers of cows drinking milk, givers of food eating food, givers of houses dwelling in houses, and the righteous adorned with gold, gems, and pearls, shining in the company of young women.
Then the mighty Ravana, by his valor, forcibly freed all those creatures who were tormented for their sins. The freed ghosts knew for a moment an unlooked-for joy. Seeing this, Yama’s keepers of the dead fell in fury upon the raksasa king; a great uproar rose on every side. Bearing javelin, iron club, pike, pestle, spear, and lance, warriors in their hundreds of thousands shattered the seats, mansions, platforms, and gateways of the Pushpaka like swarming bees, but by Brahma’s power the god-made car remained unbroken.
Ravana’s ministers, drenched in blood over every limb, fought a fierce fight. Leaving the ministers, Yama’s warriors fell with a rain of pikes upon Ravana himself; racked with wounds, red with blood, Ravana looked like an ashoka in bloom in the Pushpaka. Then by the force of his weapons he rained pestle, rock, tree, spear, lance, and arrow upon Yama’s host that stood on the ground; but they cut all his weapons apart and took away his missiles too, and, a host against one, struck at that lone raksasa, and choked him with slings and pikes. As his armor was cut and he bathed in streams of blood, Ravana left the Pushpaka and stood on the ground. Recovering after a while, taking up bow and arrow, furious as Time, he set the Pashupata weapon to the string and, crying “Halt, halt,” loosed it as Shankara loosed it upon the three cities. Ringed with smoke and flame, that arrow ran across the field like a summer wildfire; Yama’s army was burned and fell like the banners of Indra. Then the terrible Ravana with his ministers roared so that the earth seemed to shake.
A key to reading this (place): The Vaitarani is the blood-red river of hell, and the sword-leaf forest is that place of imagining where the very leaves cut like blades. This description of hell in Valmiki is the original of the later Puranic hells; note that the same realm of Yama is also full of mansions of joy for the meritorious, so that it is deeds alone that fix one’s fate.
The gist: In Yama’s realm Ravana saw both the torments of hell and the joys of heaven, and forcibly freed the sinners. A fierce battle broke out with Yama’s keepers of the dead; drenched in blood, Ravana burned Yama’s army with the Pashupata weapon.
The Duel of Yama and Ravana: Brahma Stays the Rod of Time
Hearing Ravana’s great roar, Yama, son of the sun, understood that the enemy had won and his army was destroyed. His eyes red with rage, he told his charioteer to bring his car. The charioteer brought the divine great chariot; the resplendent Yama mounted it. Bearing pike and iron club in her hands, Death stood before him, she by whom these imperishable three worlds are drawn to their end. At Yama’s side stood the embodied Rod of Time, blazing like fire, ringed by the noose of Time without a gap and by a club like the touch of fire, all in bodily form.
Seeing Time, the terror of all the worlds, enraged, the three worlds trembled and the gods shook. The charioteer drove horses swift as Indra’s own, and with a fearful noise the chariot reached the place of battle. Seeing that dread car with Death upon it, Ravana’s ministers suddenly took to flight; losing their senses in fear, crying “We cannot fight here,” they scattered to the four quarters. But Dashagriva, even seeing such a chariot, was neither shaken nor touched by fear.
Coming near, Yama cast spear and lance and pierced Ravana’s vitals; but Ravana, recovering, rained arrows on Yama’s chariot like a cloud pouring rain. Hundreds of great spears fell upon his chest, and, racked with their barbs, for a time he could not move his hand. So with many weapons the battle went on unbroken for seven nights, and at last Yama left his enemy senseless and turned him back. Both warriors, longing for victory and unwilling to leave the field, fought a fierce fight. Then, setting Prajapati before them, gods, gandharvas, siddhas, and great seers came to that field.
From the mouth of the enraged Yama came a fire of wrath with smoke and flame. Seeing this wonder before gods and danavas, Death and Time grew glad and eager for the fight. Then, greatly enraged, Death said to Yama: let me go, until I make an end of this sinful raksasa. Today this raksasa will not live; this is nature’s law. Hiranyakashipu, Namuchi, Shambara, Nisandi, Dhumaketu, Bali, Shambhu, Vritra, Bana, royal seers, gandharvas, nagas, seers, daityas, yaksas, apsaras, even this earth with its seas, mountains, rivers, and trees, great king, at the end of an age I have destroyed. These and many hard-to-conquer heroes perished under my very eyes; what then is this night-ranger? Let me go, knower of dharma; whomever I look upon does not live even a moment.
Yama said: wait, we ourselves will kill him. His eyes red with rage, Yama took up in his hand that unfailing Rod of Time, at the mere sight of which the life leaves all creatures, let alone at its touch or its blow. Ringed with flames, that great weapon flashed as if to burn the raksasa to ash; the frightened raksasas fled, and even the gods were shaken to see Yama raise the rod.
As Yama was about to strike Ravana with the rod, the Grandsire Brahma himself appeared and said: mighty-armed Vaivasvata, son of the sun of measureless valor, do not kill this night-ranger with the rod. We have given him a boon; let our word not be false. God or man, whoever proves us false-spoken, by him the three worlds are made false. Loosed in anger, this dread weapon will destroy all creatures without telling dear from hateful. This Rod of Time is unfailing for all beings; we made it in ancient days together with Death. If it falls on Ravana’s head and he does not die, or if he dies, in either case our boon is made false. So draw it back from the head of the lord of Lanka, and if you wish the good of the worlds, make us true.
Hearing this, the righteous Yama said: I draw the rod back, for you are our master. When your boon has kept him safe, what use is it for us to stay on the field? We vanish from before this raksasa. So saying, Yama with his chariot and horses vanished on the spot. Having conquered Yama, Dashagriva proclaimed his name, mounted the Pushpaka again, and set out from the abode of Yama. Setting Brahma before them, the gods and the great sage Narada returned in gladness with Yama to heaven.
A sub-tale: Note that Ravana does not conquer Yama; he prevails by the strength of Brahma’s boon. Yama’s drawing back of his rod is not Ravana’s heroism but the guarding of Brahma’s word. Valmiki shows with a light hand that every “victory” of Ravana stands in the shadow of some boon or some order, not in his own strength.
The gist: Yama himself came to the field with the Rod of Time and Death beside him, and in seven days of battle left Ravana senseless. When Yama moved to kill him, Brahma stayed the rod to save his own boon, and Yama vanished; Ravana counted it his victory and turned back.
Friendship with the Nivatakavachas in the Netherworld and Victory over Varuna’s Sons
Having conquered Yama, the battle-loving Ravana looked at his companions. Seeing Ravana drenched in blood and racked with wounds, the raksasas were amazed. Maricha and the other ministers blessed him on his victory, and, comforted, all mounted the Pushpaka. Then, to reach the netherworld, the raksasa entered that treasure-house of the sea, full of daityas and nagas and guarded by Varuna. In the city of Bhogavati, ruled by Vasuki, he brought the nagas under his sway and went in gladness to the jewel-city.
There lived the daityas called Nivatakavachas, who had won boons from Brahma. Ravana challenged them to battle. Those mighty daityas, drunk with war, joined battle in gladness. With pike, trident, thunderbolt-weapon, battle-axe, sword, and axe, raksasa and danava pierced one another. The battle lasted more than a year, and neither side won or lost. Then the imperishable god Brahma, who moves through the three worlds, came swiftly on his finest car. Stopping the battle of the Nivatakavachas, the aged Grandsire said plainly: gods and asuras together cannot conquer this Ravana in battle, and none, gods and danavas together, can make an end of you. So your friendship with this raksasa pleases us; among friends all goods are held in common.
Then Ravana, with fire for witness, made friendship with the Nivatakavachas and was glad. Honored as was fitting, he stayed there a year and enjoyed himself as in his own city. There he learned a hundred arts of magic, then, searching for Varuna’s city, ranged the netherworld. Reaching the stone-city where the strength-drunk Kalakeyas lived, Ravana killed them, and with his sword he struck down his own brother-in-law, Vidyujjihva, the husband of Shurpanakha, who had come at him to lick him with his tongue in the fight; conquering them, he destroyed four hundred daityas in a moment.
Then he saw the divine dwelling of Varuna, white as a cloud, shining like Kailasa. There he saw the milk-flowing cow Surabhi, mother of the finest of bulls, from whose stream of milk is made the ocean of milk, from which the cool-rayed moon arose, on whom the great seers who drink the foam depend, from whom the nectar of the gods and the offering to the fathers arise, whom the world knows by the name Surabhi. Circling her, Ravana entered the dread field of Varuna, guarded by many armies.
Killing Varuna’s generals, Ravana said to the warriors: tell your lord at once, the battle-seeking Ravana stands at the door; give him battle, or say with joined palms, “I am beaten.” Meanwhile the sons and grandsons of the great Varuna, and his two generals Go and Pushkara, came out in fury. Moving at will, mounted on chariots like rising suns, virtuous, they came with their armies to the field. Then a hair-raising battle broke out between the sons of Varuna and the wise Ravana. Dashagriva’s mighty ministers laid Varuna’s whole army low in a moment. Racked by the net of arrows, Varuna’s sons drew back from the field, but seeing Ravana seated in the Pushpaka they mounted their chariots again and rose swiftly into the sky; then a tumultuous sky-battle like that of gods and danavas ensued.
With fiery arrows they turned Ravana back and shouted for joy. Then the enraged Mahodara, seeing his king hard-pressed, cast off the fear of death and sought battle; with his mace he brought the wind-swift horses of Varuna’s sons to the ground, killed their warriors, and, seeing them stripped of their chariots, gave a great roar. By their courage Varuna’s sons held their place in the sky, strung their bows again, pierced Mahodara, and all together ringed Ravana; in their fury they rained galling arrows on him like clouds. Then Ravana, blazing like the fire of doom, poured a fierce rain of arrows on their vitals; all turned away and fell to the earth, and were quickly carried to their homes by their men.
Ravana said: let our presence be told to Varuna. Then Varuna’s minister Prahasa said: the great king Varuna has gone to Brahma’s world to hear the song of the gandharvas. Hero, when the king is away, why do you labor in vain? The brave sons who were here have already been beaten by you. Hearing this, the raksasa king proclaimed his name, and, shouting for joy, went out from the realm of Varuna. By the same road he had come he turned back and set out through the sky toward Lanka.
A key to reading this (name): Surabhi is here the form of Kamadhenu, the wish-granting cow; by saying that from her milk came the ocean of milk and then the moon, Valmiki hints at an ancient tradition of creation. Vidyujjihva is the husband of Shurpanakha, and his killing at Ravana’s own hand becomes the cause of the grief in the next canto.
The gist: In the netherworld Ravana made a fire-witnessed friendship with the Nivatakavachas at Brahma’s urging and learned a hundred magics. He killed the Kalakeyas and his own brother-in-law Vidyujjihva, then overcame the sons of Varuna and, Varuna himself being away, turned back to Lanka.
The Curse of the Abducted Women and the Consoling of Shurpanakha
On his glad return the wicked Ravana carried off along the way the maidens of kings, seers, gods, and danavas. Whatever fair maiden or woman he saw, he killed her kinsmen and shut her up in his car. So he loaded into the Pushpaka the daughters of nagas, raksasas, asuras, men, yaksas, and danavas. In grief and fear they all wept together, their tears burning like sparks of fire.
Those lovely women, long-tressed, their faces like the full moon, their bodies fair, golden of hue, were wild with grief and fear; the Pushpaka, with their sighs, looked like a fire fed with oblations. Fallen into Ravana’s power, they were like does caught in a lion’s claws. One thought, “Will he eat me?”; another, “Will he kill me?” Remembering mother, father, husband, and brothers, they lamented together: how will my son live without me? My mother and my brother are sunk in a sea of grief; without that husband what shall I do? Death, we entreat you, take us away. What evil deed did we do in a former life that all of us have sunk into this sea of grief? Now we see no end to our sorrow.
Shame on this world of men; there is none more wretched than we. As the rising sun destroys the stars, so this mighty Ravana has destroyed our feeble husbands. This over-strong raksasa takes joy in his ways of killing. Living in his evil ways, he feels no loathing for himself; the valor of this wicked one is wholly of a piece with him. To touch the wives of others is beneath even him. Because this vilest of raksasas dallies with the wives of others, this ill-minded one shall meet his death through a woman. When those chaste and noble women uttered this curse, kettledrums sounded in the sky and flowers rained down; at the curse of those true and virtuous wives Ravana seemed to lose his splendor and grow downcast. Hearing their lament, honored by the night-rangers, Ravana went deep into Lanka.
Just then a fearsome raksasi, able to take any form, Ravana’s sister, came suddenly and fell to the ground. Lifting her, Ravana consoled her and said: gentle one, what is this? Say quickly what you have to say. Her eyes red with tears and rage, she said: king, in your strength you have forcibly made me a widow. You have killed in battle by your valor fourteen thousand Kalakeya daityas; among them my mighty husband, dearer to me than life, you have killed too, father, that very enemy who was your kinsman by marriage. By a kinsman like you I am undone.
King, said she, I will suffer the widowhood you have given me. Even in battle, was your son-in-law not worthy of your protection? You killed him yourself, and you are not even ashamed. Consoling his weeping, wailing sister, Ravana said gently: enough, child, do not weep; you need fear no one. With gift, with honor, and with kindness I will strive to content you. Drunk with battle, longing for victory, I could not tell my own from another’s; battle-mad, I did not know my son-in-law, and so your husband was killed. But now I will do what is for your good.
Stay with Khara, said he, who has your brother’s fortune. This brother of yours will be able to send and maintain fourteen thousand raksasas; Khara, your aunt’s son, will always obey you. Let this hero go quickly to guard the Dandaka forest. The mighty Dushana shall be his general; living there, Khara will always heed your word. He shall be lord of the raksasas who take any form. So saying, Dashagriva ordered fourteen thousand brave raksasas to be Khara’s army. Ringed by those dread raksasas, the fearless Khara went quickly to the Dandaka forest and ruled there without a rival. And Shurpanakha too went to live in that same Dandaka forest.
A key to reading this (concept): The curse of the abducted chaste women, “death through a woman,” is itself a foretelling of the abduction of Sita and the killing of Ravana. And the placing of Khara and Dushana in the Dandaka forest sets the stage for the Aranyakanda; that is, these tales of the Uttarakanda open the roots of the story of Rama.
The gist: On his return Ravana carried off many maidens; the abducted chaste women cursed him that he would be killed through a woman. Consoling his sister Shurpanakha, whom he had widowed by his own hand, Ravana sent Khara with fourteen thousand raksasas to the Dandaka forest.
Meghanada’s Attainment, Vibhishana’s Warning, and the Pact with Madhu
Having handed Khara his army and consoled his sister, Ravana grew calm and glad. Then with his followers he entered the fine grove of Lanka, Nikumbhila. There he saw a place of sacrifice ringed with hundreds of sacrificial posts, adorned with a gentle altar, blazing as with splendor; and he saw his son Meghanada, of fearsome form, clad in black deerskin, bearing the tuft-banner and the water pot. Embracing him, Ravana asked: child, what are you doing? Tell me the truth.
Then, to keep the sacrifice from failing (lest the vow of silence be broken), the great ascetic Ushanas, best of the twice-born, spoke: king, I tell you all. Your son has performed seven great sacrifices: the Agnishtoma, the Ashvamedha, the Bahusuvarnaka, the Rajasuya, the Gomedha, and the Vaishnava. At the beginning of the Maheshvara sacrifice, rare for men, your son won boons here from Pashupati Shiva in person: a divine car that goes at will through the sky, and a magic named Tamasi by which darkness falls on the enemy host and whose path even gods and asuras cannot find. Along with these, two quivers of arrows that never fail, a bow hard to conquer, and a mighty weapon that shatters enemies. Having won all these boons, your son, at the close of his sacrifice, longs to see you, and so do I.
Then Dashagriva said: this is not well; my enemies, Indra and the rest, have been worshipped with these offerings. But what is done is done, and for the good; now come, gentle one, let us go home. Then Ravana with his son and Vibhishana took down from the Pushpaka, weeping and broken-voiced, all those women, jewels among the women of gods, danavas, and raksasas. Knowing Ravana’s intent toward them, the righteous Vibhishana said: by such ways, which destroy fame and line, you knowingly wrong living beings. But, king, the raksasa Madhu, passing over you, has carried off our sister Kumbhinasi.
Ravana asked: how so? Who is this Madhu? Vibhishana said: he is an aged, wise night-ranger, the elder brother of our maternal grandfather Sumali, the elder uncle of our mother Kaikasi. Kumbhinasi, the daughter of his daughter, the child of our aunt Anala, is by dharma the sister of us brothers. When your son was busy at his sacrifice, and I was in penance in the water, and Kumbhakarna lay in sleep, the mighty raksasa Madhu killed our honored ministers and carried her off. Though guarded in your own inner apartments, she was seized and carried away by force. Hearing of it, we bore with it and did not kill him, for a maiden is one day to be given by her brothers to a husband. This is the fruit, come in this very life, of your own sinful deeds and ill counsel.
Hearing Vibhishana’s words, Ravana, his eyes red with rage, troubled as a sea churned by hot water, said: let my chariot be quickly made ready; let our heroes prepare; let my brother Kumbhakarna and the chief night-rangers mount their vehicles. Today in battle I will kill Madhu, who feels no fear even of Ravana, and then with my friends, wishing for war, I will go to the world of the gods. Four thousand foremost raksasas, an akshauhini, set out; Indrajit went before the army, Ravana in the midst, Kumbhakarna behind; the righteous Vibhishana stayed in Lanka, keeping to dharma. The rest of those great ones, mounted on wild asses, horses, dolphins, and great serpents, went toward the city of Madhu, and the god-hating daityas followed by the hundred.
Reaching the city of Madhu, Ravana saw his sister but did not find Madhu. Frightened, Kumbhinasi fell with joined palms and touched his feet with her head. Saying “Do not fear,” Ravana raised her: what shall I do for you? She said: mighty-armed one, if you are pleased, do not kill my husband today, giver of honor. For a wife of good family there is no fear like the death of a husband. Of all fears widowhood is the greatest sorrow. Be true to your word, lord of kings; look with grace on me who beg of you.
Glad, Ravana said: you have heard “Do not fear” from my own mouth. It is fitting to plan the aim of one who is dear and who serves us. Tell me, where is your husband? With him I will go to win the world of the gods. Then, waking the sleeping night-ranger, the glad Kumbhinasi said: this is my mighty brother Dashagriva come; he wishes your help to conquer the world of the gods. So go with your kinsmen to aid him. Madhu said, “So be it,” rose, and honored Ravana as was due. Honored in return, Ravana stayed one night, then made ready to set out. Then, reaching the abode of Vishrava’s son Kubera on Kailasa, Ravana, mighty as Mahendra, made his army’s camp there.
A sub-tale: The name “Indrajit” that Meghanada will win later has its root in this very Nikumbhila sacrifice; and Nikumbhila is the same place where, in the Yuddhakanda, Lakshmana kills him. The go-at-will car won from the Maheshvara sacrifice is the shield within which he is unkillable. Here Valmiki lays the foundation of the condition of his immortality.
The gist: Meghanada won from seven sacrifices and the Maheshvara rite Shiva’s divine car, the Tamasi magic, and weapons. Vibhishana told of the evil of carrying off others’ wives and of the seizing of their sister Kumbhinasi by Madhu; at Kumbhinasi’s plea Ravana spared Madhu, made him an ally, and came to Kailasa.
The Violation of Rambha and Nalakubara’s Deadly Curse
When the sun set, the mighty Dashagriva chose that place to camp with his army. When the clear, broad moon rose, the army with its many weapons slept. Seated on the mountain peak, the mighty Ravana gazed on the beauty of the mountain, lit by the moon and the trees. The woodland glowed with karnikara, kadamba, bakula, champaka, ashoka, punnaga, mandara, mango, patala, lodhra, priyangu, arjuna, ketaka, tagara, coconut, priyala, and jackfruit trees; kinnaras, love-struck and sweet-voiced, sang songs that swelled the delight of the mind. Vidyadharas, drunk with joy, sported with their companions; from the mansion of Kubera the song of the throngs of apsaras rang like the peal of bells. The trees, fragrant with spring, rained flowers and perfumed the mountain, and a soft wind blew that fanned Ravana’s desire.
With the music, the wealth of flowers, the coolness of the wind, the beauty of the mountain, and the rising of the moon, as the night began the mighty Ravana fell into the power of desire; sighing again and again, he gazed at the moon. Just then Rambha appeared there, adorned with divine ornaments, foremost of all the apsaras, her face like the full moon, anointed with divine sandal, her tresses dressed with mandara flowers, going toward a divine festival, with mind-stealing eyes and a girdle on her full hips, adorned with the moist ornaments and radiance of the flowers of the six seasons, a second Shri, wrapped in a garment dark as a rain cloud. Seeing her pass through the midst of his army, Ravana rose, took her by the hand, and smiling at her as she blushed said: fair one, where are you going? Whose purpose do you go to serve? Whose is the hour of good fortune, that he will enjoy you? Who will taste today the nectar of your lips? Whose chest will your golden-pitcher breasts touch, timid one? Who will enjoy your golden-circled hips? What man is greater than I today, be he Indra, Vishnu, or the Ashvins? It is not fitting for you to pass me by.
Rest on this fair rock, broad-hipped one; there is no lord of the three worlds but I. This Dashanana, lord and sustainer of the lords of the three worlds, begs of you with joined palms, humbly; so accept me. Trembling, Rambha said with joined palms: be gracious; you are not fit to speak so, for you are my elder. By dharma I am your daughter-in-law; this I say truly. So I am one whom you yourself should protect from others, if any should force me. Ravana asked: how, if you are my son’s wife, are you my daughter-in-law? Rambha replied: yes, foremost of raksasas, by dharma I am your son’s wife; he is the son of your brother Vaishravana, dear to him as life, famed through the three worlds as Nalakubara, a brahmin by dharma and a warrior by valor, fire in anger and the earth in patience. To that son of a world-guardian I am betrothed. All this adornment is for him; as his mind is on me and no other, so is my mind on him alone. On the strength of that truth, king, let me go. That righteous one waits for me in eagerness. Do not hinder his purpose; let me go. Walk the road of the good, foremost of raksasas. You are to be honored by me, and I to be protected by you.
Hearing this, Dashagriva, feigning courtesy, said: what you say, that you are my daughter-in-law, holds only for those who have a single husband. Apsaras have no husband, nor are gods bound to one woman; this is held the eternal way of the world of the gods. So saying, throwing her on the rock, the raksasa in his lust for pleasure forced himself upon her. In his embrace her flower-ornaments fell; Rambha, distressed like a river troubled by a rutting elephant, was left disheveled. Her tresses loosened, her tender hands trembling, she was like a flowering creeper shaken by the wind. Trembling, ashamed, afraid, with joined palms she fell at the feet of Nalakubara.
Seeing her in that state, the great Nalakubara asked: gentle one, what is this? Why have you fallen at my feet? Sighing, trembling, with joined palms, she told all as it had happened: god, Dashagriva, going to heaven, camped here with his army and stayed the night. As I was coming to you he saw me, seized me, and asked whose I was; I told him all the truth. But overcome by the delusion of desire he would not hear me; though I said “I am your daughter-in-law,” he forced himself upon me. You of good vows, forgive this fault; the strength of a woman and of a man are not equal.
Hearing this, the son of Vaishravana grew angry; entering a trance he searched out the truth, and knowing Ravana’s deed, his eyes turned copper-red with rage, he took water in his left hand; performing the sipping-rite as was due, he laid a dread curse on Ravana: gentle one, because he violated you by force, unwilling as you were, he shall never again be able to force sexual union on any unwilling woman. If, stricken with lust, he forces himself on an unwilling woman, that very moment his head shall split into seven pieces. As the curse was uttered the kettledrums of the gods sounded, flowers rained from the sky, and all the gods led by Brahma rejoiced. Knowing the fate of the worlds and the death of the raksasa, seers and the fathers were filled with the highest joy. Hearing this hair-raising curse, Ravana gave up all inclination to force himself on unwilling women, and all the chaste women he had carried off rejoiced to hear the curse that gladdened their hearts.
A key to reading this (concept): This curse of Nalakubara is a silent guardian of the story of Rama: because of it Ravana cannot force himself on Sita in the Ashoka grove. For Valmiki this is not merely a tale of a crime; it is the very reason the purity of Sita stays untouched. The point lies not in any imagined intimacy but in the consequence of the curse.
The gist: On Kailasa Ravana violated the apsara Rambha, who was betrothed to his own son Nalakubara. Nalakubara cursed him that the moment he forced himself on an unwilling woman his head would split into seven pieces, which became the unseen shield of Sita’s safety.
The Invasion of Indra’s Realm and the Death of Sumali
Crossing Kailasa with his army, his forces, and his vehicles, the resplendent Dashanana reached the realm of Indra. The sound of the raksasa army swelling from every side rang in the world of the gods like a churned sea. Hearing that Ravana had come, Indra rose from his seat and said to the assembled gods, the Adityas, the Vasus, the Rudras, the Sadhyas, and the hosts of Maruts: make ready for battle with the wicked Ravana. The gods, mighty as Indra, put on their armor and filled with a longing for war. But Indra, afraid and downcast, went to Vishnu and said: Vishnu, how am I to deal with this raksasa? This over-strong raksasa stands at the door for battle. He is strong only by his boon and by nothing else; and Brahma’s word must be made true. God of gods, Madhusudana, in the whole moving and unmoving three worlds there is no refuge but you. You are the eternal, glorious Narayana, the lotus-naveled; you set these worlds and me, Indra, in their places. At the end of an age all enter into you. So tell me yourself how the victory can be won, or will you take sword and discus and fight Ravana?
Narayana said: do not fear; hear my word. This wicked soul is unconquerable by gods and asuras, and being hard to conquer by his boon, he cannot even be killed when met face to face. This strength-drunk raksasa with his son will surely do great deeds; I have seen it in the nature of things. As for your saying “Fight,” I will not fight this Ravana now; but Vishnu does not turn back without killing his enemy, and victory over the boon-guarded Ravana is hard today. Lord of gods, before you I vow that when the time comes I myself will be the cause of this raksasa’s death; I myself will kill Ravana with his vanguards, and knowing the hour has come I will gladden the gods. Lord of Shachi, king of gods, I have told you the truth; be fearless and fight with the gods.
Then the Rudras, Adityas, Vasus, Maruts, and Ashvins, putting on their armor, came out of the city against the raksasas. At the end of night the din of Ravana’s raksasa army was heard on every side, whose way of war was finer than the gods’. Waking, the mighty raksasas advanced to battle in gladness. There was a stir in the army of the gods; seeing that vast, imperishable host in the van of battle, a great fear spread among the gods. Then a fierce, tumultuous battle of many weapons broke out between the gods and the raksasas.
Then Ravana’s fearsome, brave ministers came to the fight: Maricha, Prahasta, Mahaparshva, Mahodara, Akampana, Nikumbha, Shuka, Sarana, Sanhrada, Dhumaketu, Mahadanshtra, Ghatodara, Jambumali, Mahahrada, Virupaksha, Suptaghna, Yajnakopa, Durmukha, Dushana, Khara, Trishira, Karaviraksha, Suryashatru, Mahakaya, Atikaya, Devantaka, and Narantaka. Ringed by these mighty raksasas, the great Sumali, Ravana’s maternal grandfather, entered the battle. In fury he scattered the hosts of gods with keen weapons as the wind scatters the clouds. Beaten by the night-rangers, the army of the gods fled in all directions like deer driven by a lion.
Just then the eighth Vasu, the hero famed as Savitra, ringed by a glad host, came to the van of battle, striking terror into the enemy. Two mighty Adityas too, Tvashta and Pushan, came fearless with their armies into the fight. Then a battle broke out between the enraged raksasas, who would not leave the field, and the gods. The raksasas, a host against them, struck the gods with dread weapons, and the gods sent the fierce raksasas to the abode of Yama with their spotless weapons. The enraged Sumali fell upon the army of the gods with many weapons and scattered them all like a storm. Struck by his great rain of arrows, spears, and pikes, the gods could not hold together.
As Sumali drove the gods before him, the eighth Vasu, Savitra, stood firm against him. Ringed by his army, the resplendent Vasu checked by his valor that striking night-ranger. Then a hair-raising great battle broke out between Sumali and the Vasu. With his great arrows the Vasu shattered Sumali’s serpent-chariot in a moment. Having destroyed the chariot studded with a hundred arrows, the Vasu took up his mace to kill the raksasa. With a mace of blazing tip like the Rod of Time, Savitra struck Sumali on the head. Falling like a meteor, that mace roared like the great thunderbolt hurled upon Indra’s mountain; of the burned Sumali not a bone, not a head, not a shred of flesh was seen on the field. Seeing him killed, all the raksasas, calling to one another, fled in all directions, and driven by the Vasu they could not hold their ground.
A key to reading this (name): In this roster of battle, names like Maricha, Prahasta, Khara, Dushana, Trishira, Devantaka, Narantaka, and Atikaya will become the chief warriors of the Yuddhakanda. Sumali is Ravana’s maternal grandfather; his death shows that on the side of the gods too there are warriors who can burn to ash the raksasas who lack a boon in a moment.
The gist: Ravana marched on Indra’s realm; to the frightened Indra, Vishnu gave assurance and a vow to kill Ravana. In the fierce battle the eighth Vasu, Savitra, burned Ravana’s grandfather Sumali to ash with his mace, and the raksasa army broke and fled.
The Duel of Meghanada and Jayanta; the Battle of Indra and Ravana
Seeing Sumali burned by the Vasu and his army beaten and fleeing before the gods, the enraged son of Ravana, Meghanada, turned all the raksasas back and took a firm stand on the field. Mounted on his fire-colored go-at-will car, that great warrior fell upon the army of the gods as a blazing fire upon forests. At the mere sight of him the gods fled in all directions; none could stand before him. Then Indra rebuked the frightened gods: do not fear, do not flee; turn back, gods. This is my own unconquered son going to battle. Just then Jayanta, the famed son of Shachi, came to the fight on a wondrous chariot.
The gods ringed the son of Shachi and struck at the son of Ravana. The battle of gods and raksasas, of Indra’s son and Ravana’s son, was equal. The son of Ravana rained gold-adorned arrows on Gomukha, the son of Indra’s charioteer Matali; Jayanta pierced Meghanada’s charioteer, and in fury the son of Ravana pierced Jayanta on every side. Filled with rage, his eyes wide, the mighty son of Ravana covered the son of Shachi with a rain of arrows and poured thousands of keen weapons on the armies of the gods; he hurled the hundred-slayer weapon, pestles, spears, maces, swords, axes, and even great mountain peaks. As he destroyed the enemy army, the magic of Ravana’s son spread darkness on every side, and the worlds were terrified.
The arrow-racked army of the gods knew every kind of misery. A fierce battle of darkness broke out between Meghanada and the gods; none knew another, and raksasas and gods, all confused, ran to and fro, gods striking gods and raksasas raksasas. Just then a valiant daitya lord named Puloma, the father of Jayanta’s mother Shachi and so Jayanta’s maternal grandfather, took hold of his grandson and went off into the sea. Knowing that Jayanta had vanished, the gods grew downcast and fled. Then the enraged son of Ravana fell upon them with a great roar.
Seeing his son vanished and the gods in flight, Indra the lord of gods said to Matali: bring my chariot near. Driven by Matali, the divine, most fearsome, swift chariot came and stood near; before it wind-quick clouds roared with lightning. Gandharvas played many instruments and apsaras danced. Ringed by the Rudras, Vasus, Adityas, Maruts, and Ashvins, the lord of gods went forth. As he went, a harsh wind blew, the sun grew dim, and great meteors fell.
Just then, on a divine chariot made by Vishvakarma, wound about by great serpents and seeming to blaze in battle with the wind of their breath, the brave and glorious Dashagriva mounted. Ringed by daityas and night-rangers, that divine car turned to the fight and stood before Mahendra. Ravana held his son back and himself took a firm stand in battle, and the son of Ravana came out of the fight and sat calm in his chariot. Then the battle of the gods with the Maruts and the raksasa army broke out again amid a rain of weapons like clouds. The wicked Kumbhakarna, taking up many weapons, not knowing whom he fought, struck whomever he met with tooth, foot, arm, hand, spear, lance, and club. Pierced with weapons, streaming blood, Kumbhakarna shone like a cloud pouring rain amid lightning and thunder.
A sub-tale: Here we see the first use of Meghanada’s “Tamasi magic,” that same weapon of darkness that in the Yuddhakanda will fell Lakshmana senseless. Note that Jayanta is carried off to safety by his maternal grandfather Puloma; again and again Valmiki shows that on the side of the gods too one’s own are saved by the strength of kin.
The gist: Meghanada wove darkness with his Tamasi magic and terrified the army of the gods; Jayanta was carried into the sea by his grandfather Puloma. Indra himself came to the field on his chariot, and the fierce arrow-battle of Ravana and Indra began, with darkness spreading on every side.
Meghanada’s Capture of Indra and the Triumphant Return to Lanka
As the darkness fell, gods and raksasas, drunk with strength, fought and struck one another. Of the vast raksasa army only a tenth part was left on the field; the rest the gods had sent to the abode of Yama. In that battle of darkness none knew another; only Indra, Ravana, and the mighty Meghanada, these three alone, were not deluded. Seeing his whole army destroyed in a moment, Ravana, filled with fierce rage, raised a great roar, and the unassailable Ravana said to his charioteer standing in the chariot: in my anger, drive me through the midst of the enemy army to the other end where the far side lies. Today I myself will send all these gods to the abode of Yama with a great rain of many weapons. Killing Indra, Kubera, Varuna, and Yama, destroying the gods, I will set myself above them all. Do not despair; drive quickly. Twice I say it, take me to the far end of the army. Where we stand is the region of Indra’s Nandana grove; take me today to where the mountain of sunrise is.
Hearing Ravana’s command, the charioteer drove the mind-swift horses through the midst of the enemy host. Knowing Ravana’s resolve, Indra the lord of gods said to the gods on the field: gods, hear my word; it pleases me best that this Dashagriva be taken alive. He will cut through this sea of an army, swelling like the full-moon tide, with his wind-swift chariot. By his boon he is fearless today, and so he cannot be killed; therefore we will take the raksasa prisoner, and for that be watchful. As by binding Bali I enjoy the three worlds, so the binding of this wicked one pleases me.
Dashagriva entered the raksasa army from the north and Indra from the south. Cutting a hundred yojanas deep, the raksasa king covered the army of the gods with a rain of arrows. Seeing his own army destroyed, the steady Indra ringed Ravana and forced him to turn back. Seeing Ravana gripped by Indra, the danavas and raksasas cried, “Alas, we are killed.” Then, wild with rage, Meghanada mounted his chariot and plunged deep into the dread army of the gods; putting on the great magic he had won of old from Pashupati Shiva, in his fury he scattered the army of the gods.
Leaving all the gods aside, he fell on Indra alone, but the resplendent Indra could not see the son of his enemy. Though his armor fell and he was struck by the mighty gods, the son of Ravana felt no fear. Striking Matali as he came with fine arrows, he rained arrows on Mahendra. Made invisible by his magic, moving through the sky, Meghanada ringed Indra with his magic and rained arrows on him. Indra, leaving his chariot and charioteer, mounted Airavata and searched for the son of Ravana. Then, knowing Indra to be weary, Meghanada bound him by his magic and carried him off to his own army. Seeing him borne away by force from the great battle, all the gods wondered, “What will happen now?” and said: the crafty, ever-victorious Indrajit, who has carried off by magic even the learned Indra, cannot be seen at all.
Just then the enraged gods turned Ravana back and covered him with a rain of arrows; ringed by the Adityas and Vasus, hard-pressed by his enemies, Ravana could not fight. Seeing his father racked by their blows, the son of Ravana, standing unseen, said: come, father, let us go; the battle is ended. Know our victory won; be calm and free of care. Lord, you increase our line, for today with equal valor you have conquered the matchless Indra and the gods. Set Indra in your chariot and go to Lanka ringed by your army; I too, glad, will follow with my ministers. At his son’s dear words Ravana withdrew from the field. The mighty son of Ravana, taking Indra, reached his own dwelling with his army and vehicles and dismissed the raksasas who had fought.
A key to reading this (concept): It is by capturing Indra that Meghanada will win the name “Indrajit” (in the next canto). Note that Indra himself wishes not to kill but to capture Ravana, since by his boon he is unkillable; yet it is Indra himself who is bound by magic. Here Valmiki shows the turn of pride and trickery upon itself.
The gist: Ravana cut through the army of the gods and destroyed it, but Indra forced him to turn back. Then Meghanada, made invisible by Shiva’s magic, bound the wearied Indra and, victorious with his father, returned to Lanka.
Brahma’s Boon to Indrajit and the Release of Indra: The Episode of Ahalya
Seeing the mighty Mahendra conquered by the son of Ravana, the gods set Prajapati Brahma before them and came to Lanka. Standing in the sky, Prajapati said gently to Ravana, ringed by his sons and brothers: child Ravana, we are pleased with your son’s conduct in battle; ah, the greatness of his valor! It equals yours or even surpasses it. By your very splendor the three worlds are conquered and your vow fulfilled; I am pleased with you and with your son. Ravana, this mighty son shall now be famed in the world by the name Indrajit. The raksasa by whose help, king, you have subdued the gods will surely be strong and hard to conquer. So let Mahendra, the punisher of Paka, be released. In exchange for his release, what shall the gods give you?
Then the resplendent, ever-victorious Indrajit said: god, if he is to be released, I ask for deathlessness. Brahma said: no being on earth, be it bird or beast or any other however mighty, wins outright deathlessness. Then Indrajit said to Brahma who stood there: then hear the boon that pleases me in exchange for the release of Indra of a hundred sacrifices. Whenever, wishing the defeat of my enemies, I worship the fire with oblations by mantra and go out to battle, let a chariot yoked with horses arise from the fire before me; so long as I sit on it, let there be no death for me. This is my fixed boon. But if I fight before the sacrifice with fire is complete, in that very hour let my destruction come. Every man asks for deathlessness by penance, but I have won this deathlessness by valor. Brahma said, “So it shall be”; Indra was freed from Indrajit and the gods went to heaven.
Meanwhile, Rama, the wretched Indra, robbed of his immortal splendor, sank into anxiety and fell into a trance. Seeing him so, Brahma said: Indra of a hundred sacrifices, what great evil deed did you do in the past? Lord of immortals, I once made a creation with care, wholly of one color, one speech, and one form; in look or in mark there was no difference among them. Then with fixed mind I thought how to bring difference among them. From whatever limb of those creatures was most excellent I made a woman. In form and quality that woman became Ahalya: “hal” here is ugliness, and the blame born of it is “halya”; she in whom there is no halya became famed as “Ahalya,” and this name I gave her.
When that woman was made, lord of gods, I grew anxious whose she should be. Purandara, you thought in your mind, “By right of standing let her be my wife.” But I gave her in trust to the great Gautama; after many years he returned her. Knowing the great steadfastness and the perfected penance of Gautama, I gave her to him as his wife. That righteous great sage lived happily with her; and when she was given to Gautama the gods were downcast. Then, lord of gods, filled with lust, you went to the sage’s hermitage, and seeing that woman bright as a tongue of flame, stricken with desire and rage, you violated her. The most brilliant seer saw you in his hermitage, and in his anger cursed you so that you suffered a reversal of state.
He said: Vasava, because you have violated my wife without fear, Indra, you shall fall into the hand of your enemy in battle. Ill-minded one, the conduct you have set going here shall spread among the worlds of men too, of that there is no doubt. Half the sin of one who does such a deed shall fall on you; your seat shall not be secure. Whoever is Indra shall not be fixed. This is my curse. So he said to you then. And rebuking his own wife, the great ascetic said: ill-behaved one, dwell unseen near my hermitage. Because, endowed with beauty and youth, you proved unsteady, you shall no longer be the one beauty in the world; your beauty shall be shared among all creatures.
Then Ahalya, appeasing Gautama, said: brahmin, I was violated by the god who came in your form in my ignorance, not of my own will; brahmin-seer, be gracious. Gautama said: in the line of Ikshvaku a most brilliant great warrior named Rama shall be born; he shall go to the forest for the sake of a brahmin, Vishvamitra; he is Vishnu in human form. When you look upon him, gentle one, you shall be made pure; he alone can wipe away your ill deed. Giving him hospitality you shall return to me; only then, fair-hued one, shall you dwell with me. So saying, the brahmin-seer went back to his hermitage, and that wife of a knower of Brahman practiced great penance.
All this happened by that sage’s curse. Mighty-armed one, remember the evil deed you did; by that curse you fell into your enemy’s hand, and by no other cause. So compose yourself quickly and perform a Vaishnava sacrifice; purified by that sacrifice, from there you shall go to heaven. And, lord of gods, your son has not perished in the great battle; his maternal grandfather Puloma has taken him into the great sea and keeps him near. Hearing this, Mahendra performed the Vaishnava sacrifice and went again to heaven to rule as king of the gods.
Rama, this is the strength of Indrajit that I have described, said Agastya. So did the world-thorn Ravana arise, who with his son conquered the lord of gods, Indra, in battle. For one who conquered even Indra, what are other creatures? Hearing this, Rama, Lakshmana, and the assembled monkeys and raksasas cried, “A wonder!” Vibhishana, seated near Rama, said: lord, today I remember that ancient wonder I once witnessed. Rama said to Agastya: this is true; I too had heard it before.
A key to reading this (concept): This canto weaves two threads at once: the very boon of Indrajit, whose condition (death if he fights before the fire-sacrifice is complete) becomes the means of his killing by Lakshmana in the Yuddhakanda; and the episode of Ahalya, which seems unconnected yet gives the karmic root of Indra’s capture. This is the Valmiki form of the Ahalya story, somewhat different from the form in the Balakanda.
The gist: Brahma gave Meghanada the name “Indrajit” and a conditional invulnerability tied to a fire-sacrifice, and had Indra released. Tracing the root of Indra’s defeat to the curse for violating Ahalya, Brahma set him to a Vaishnava sacrifice, by which Indra returned to rule heaven.
The Search for Arjuna at Mahishmati: Ravana’s Worship on the Narmada
Filled with wonder, the brilliant Rama bowed his head again and said to Agastya, best of seers: holy one, from the time that cruel raksasa began to range the earth, were the worlds without any man of prowess, best of the twice-born? Was there in that age no king or ruler like a king, by whom the raksasa lord Ravana was not somewhere defeated? Or were the rulers of the earth without valor, or without fine weapons, that so many kings were beaten by him? Hearing this, the lord Agastya said to Rama with a smile, as Brahma to Shiva.
Ravana ranged the earth a while, tormenting kings so, lord of the earth. Then he reached the city of Mahishmati, splendid as Amaravati, where the fire-god was ever present. There the king Arjuna ruled, blazing like fire with the splendor of fire, in whose house the fire dwelt forever in a kusha-lined pit. That very day the mighty Arjuna, lord of the Haihayas, had gone with his women to sport in the Narmada. That same day Ravana came there too, and the raksasa lord said to Arjuna’s ministers: where is King Arjuna? Tell me quickly and truly. I, Ravana, best of men, have come wishing battle with Arjuna. Make my coming known to him first. Those wise ministers said that the king was away from the city.
Hearing from the citizens that Arjuna had gone out of the city, Ravana went toward the Vindhya mountain, high as the Himalaya, with a thousand peaks, its caverns the home of lions, seeming to laugh with the cool water falling from its cataracts, made like heaven by gods, danavas, gandharvas, apsaras, and kinnaras sporting with their women, and, with its rivers of crystal-clear water, looking like Shesha the serpent. Gazing at it, Ravana went to the Narmada, holy of stream, full of rolling stones and water, flowing toward the western sea.
Its pools were troubled by buffalo, srimara, lions, tigers, bears, and fine elephants distressed by heat and thirst; ruddy geese, teal, swans, water-fowl, and cranes called in it. With its crown of flowering trees, its breasts like a pair of ruddy geese, its hips like broad sandbanks, its girdle like a line of swans, its limbs smeared with the pollen of flowers, its garments spotless as the foam of the water, and its fair eyes like open lotuses, that river was like a lovely woman, into whom Dashanana plunged and then sat with his ministers on a fair sandbank, served by many sages.
Praising the Narmada, calling it “Ganga,” Ravana rejoiced in the sight of it. To his ministers and to Shuka and Sarana he said with pleasure: see how the sun, which turns the world to gold with its thousand rays and burns fiercely in mid-sky, has grown cool as the moon, knowing me seated here. This wind, cooled by the water of the Narmada, fragrant, dispelling weariness, blows softly, composed in fear of me. The excellent Narmada, bearing crocodiles, fish, and birds on her waves, stands like a fearful woman. Those whom kings mighty as Indra pierced with weapons in battle are dyed with blood as if bathed in the juice of red sandal.
So plunge into this gracious, blessed Narmada as the emperor of elephants and the rest plunge into the Ganga. Bathing in this great river you will be freed from sin. And I too today will slowly offer handfuls of flowers to Shiva on this sandbank bright as the autumn moon. At this command Prahasta, Shuka, Sarana, Mahodara, and Dhumraksha plunged into the Narmada. By those elephant-like raksasas the Narmada was troubled as the Ganga by the great elephants Vamana, Anjana, and Padma. Having bathed, they brought flowers for Ravana’s worship of Shiva and in a moment heaped on the fair, cloud-white sandbank a mountain of flowers.
When the flowers were gathered so, the raksasa king Ravana went down into the river as a great elephant into the Ganga. Bathing as was due and reciting the fine Gayatri, he came out of the water of the Narmada; casting off his wet garments, he put on white ones. As Ravana, with joined palms, went to make his offering of flowers, all the raksasas followed him, swaying with his gait like moving mountains. Wherever Ravana went, a Shiva-linga of Jambunada gold was carried after him. Setting the linga in the midst of an altar of sand, Ravana worshipped it with fragrant sandal and flowers scented like nectar. Having worshipped the supreme Shiva, remover of the sorrows of the good, giver of boons, adorned with the beams of the moon, the night-ranger sang, and, spreading his arms, danced before him in joy.
A key to reading this (name): This Arjuna is the same Kartavirya Arjuna, the thousand-armed, who was killed by Parashurama; Haihaya is his line and Mahishmati his capital. Here Ravana’s face as a devotee of Shiva is plain: the same Ravana who torments the gods carries a golden linga with him and dances before Shiva. Valmiki shows this complexity of his character without comment.
The gist: At Rama’s question Agastya began the tale of King Kartavirya Arjuna of Mahishmati. Not finding Arjuna in the city, Ravana came to the bank of the Narmada, bathed, recited the Gayatri, and set to worshipping a golden Shiva-linga on the sandbank, dancing before Shiva.
The Thousand-Armed Arjuna Takes Ravana Prisoner
Not far from where that dread raksasa king was offering his handfuls of flowers on the sandbank of the Narmada, the lord of Mahishmati, the ever-victorious Arjuna, was sporting in the water of the Narmada with his women. Among them King Arjuna shone like a bull-elephant among a thousand cow-elephants. Eager to test the great strength of his thousand arms, Arjuna dammed the flow of the Narmada with his many arms. Held back with its fish, crocodiles, sea-monsters, flowers, and kusha, the checked current of the Narmada looked like the season of the rains. Held by the arms of Kartavirya, that clear water drowned the banks and ran back in a reverse current, and swept away all of Ravana’s offering of flowers.
His worship half undone, Ravana looked at the Narmada as one might look at an angered beloved. Seeing the swell of water rising like an eruption of the sea from the west, running upstream and surging in like a tide, and the birds unstartled, he knew the river had returned to its natural state, and Ravana, without a word from his mouth, signed to Shuka and Sarana with a finger of his right hand to learn the cause. The two brothers went westward through the air. Half a yojana on, they saw a man tall as a great sal tree, sporting in the water with his women, his hair loose in the water, the corners of his eyes red with wine, his mind drunk, damming the river with a thousand arms as a mountain dams the earth with a thousand feet, ringed by a thousand fine women, a bull-elephant among a thousand cow-elephants.
Seeing that wondrous man, Shuka and Sarana returned and said to Ravana: lord of raksasas, some unknown man, tall as a great sal, has dammed the Narmada as with a wall and is giving his women their sport. Held by his thousand arms, the water bursts back again and again like an eruption of the sea. Hearing this, Ravana said, “It is Arjuna,” and set out in his hunger for battle. As Ravana turned toward Arjuna, a fierce wind blew with sound and dust, and the clouds thundered once with drops of blood. Ringed by Mahodara, Mahaparshva, Dhumraksha, Shuka, and Sarana, the raksasa lord came where Arjuna was. Dark as collyrium, Ravana saw Arjuna, a rutting elephant among his cow-elephants, ringed by his women.
His eyes red with rage, swollen with strength, Ravana said in a deep voice to Arjuna’s ministers: tell the Haihaya king at once that a warrior named Ravana has come for battle. Hearing this, the ministers rose in arms and said: blessed are you, Ravana; you know the fine moment for war, who are eager to fight a king drunk with wine amid his women, like a tiger a rutting elephant among cow-elephants. Forgive it today, Dashagriva; pass the night here; if you have a mind for battle, fight Arjuna tomorrow. And if your thirst for war makes you hasty, then you will reach Arjuna only after felling us first in the fight. Then Ravana’s ministers killed Arjuna’s ministers and, being hungry, ate them.
On the bank of the Narmada a great uproar rose between Arjuna’s followers and Ravana’s ministers. Arjuna’s ministers fell on Ravana’s band from every side with arrows, lances, spears, tridents, and thunderbolt-weapons that pierce the hide; their onset was dread as the roar of a sea full of crocodiles, fish, and monsters. Ravana’s ministers Prahasta, Shuka, and Sarana in fury began to destroy Arjuna’s army by their splendor. Frightened men told the sporting Arjuna. Saying “Do not fear,” Arjuna came out of the water of the Narmada like a collyrium-dark elephant from the Ganga. His eyes red with rage, he blazed like the fire at the end of an age. Wearing fine golden armlets, Arjuna took up his mace and fell upon the raksasas like the sun destroying the darkness, rushing with the speed of Garuda.
Barring his way, Prahasta stood unshaken as the Vindhya, holding his pestle, as the Vindhya barred the path of the sun. In his pride Prahasta hurled his dread iron-bound pestle at Arjuna and roared like Time; the tip of the pestle loosed from Prahasta’s hand shot out flames like ashoka flowers, as if to burn its mark to ash. Unshaken, Arjuna skillfully checked the swift-coming pestle with his mace. Then, mace in hand, the lord of the Haihayas, whirling the heavy mace lifted by five hundred arms, fell upon Prahasta; struck with great force, Prahasta fell to the ground like a mountain pierced by the thunderbolt. Seeing Prahasta fall, Maricha, Shuka, Sarana, Mahodara, and Dhumraksha slipped away from the field.
With his ministers fled and Prahasta fallen, Ravana rushed quickly upon the best of men, Arjuna. Between the thousand-armed and the twenty-armed a hair-raising, dread battle broke out. The two, like churning seas, like moving mountains, like two blazing suns, two kindled fires, two rutting elephants, two bulls fighting over a cow, two thundering clouds, two strength-drunk lions, like the enraged Rudra and Time, struck at each other fiercely with their maces. As mountains bear the stroke of the thunderbolt, so man and raksasa bore each other’s mace. At the clash of their maces, like echoes of thunder, all the quarters rang. Arjuna’s mace, falling on his enemy’s chest, turned the sky golden like lightning; likewise Ravana’s mace, falling on Arjuna’s chest, flashed like a meteor falling on a great mountain. Neither Arjuna nor the lord of raksasas tired; their battle was equal as that of Bali and Indra of old. They struck at each other as bulls with their horns and elephants with their tusks.
Then, enraged, Arjuna hurled that mace with all his strength between the breasts of Ravana’s broad chest. But on Ravana’s boon-guarded chest the mace, grown weak, broke into two pieces with the force of the blow and fell to the ground. Struck by that mace-blow of Arjuna, Ravana drew back the length of a bow and sat down groaning. Seeing Dashagriva undone, Arjuna suddenly leaped and seized him as Garuda seizes a serpent. Gripping Dashanana by force with his thousand arms, the mighty king bound him as Narayana, in the form of Vamana, bound Bali. As Ravana was bound, the siddhas, charanas, and gods cried “Well done” and rained flowers on Arjuna’s head. As a tiger seizes a deer or a lion an elephant, so, seizing Ravana, the Haihaya king roared again and again like a cloud.
Seeing Ravana bound, Prahasta, recovering, rushed suddenly upon Arjuna; the onset of the raksasas swelled like the clouds at summer’s end. Crying “Throw him, throw him,” “Halt, halt,” they fell on, and Prahasta rained pestles and spears. The unshaken Arjuna caught those weapons before they reached him and, with those same dread weapons, pierced the raksasas and scattered them like clouds before the wind. Like a tiger with a deer and a lion-king with an elephant, holding Ravana, ringed by his friends, Arjuna entered his city. Sprinkled with flowers and unbroken grains by the brahmins and citizens, Arjuna, like Indra, entered his own city as the thousand-eyed Indra with Bali in his grip.
A sub-tale: Note that Arjuna’s mace breaks in two upon Ravana’s chest, because that chest is guarded by Brahma’s boon. Even so, the thousand-armed Arjuna seizes him by sheer strength of arm and binds him as Bali was bound. This example of Valmiki’s is the axis of the Uttarakanda: Ravana may be unkillable, but he is not unconquerable; even a human hero can take him prisoner.
The gist: Kartavirya Arjuna dammed the Narmada with his thousand arms and swept away Ravana’s worship. In a fierce mace-battle Prahasta fell, and Arjuna seized the boon-guarded Ravana by sheer strength of arm and carried him bound to his city.
Pulastya Secures Ravana’s Release
Pulastya heard, in heaven, the gods telling of Ravana’s captivity, of one who had held the wind. Trembling with a father’s love, though he was of great firmness, the great seer set out to see the lord of Mahishmati. By the way of the wind, swift as the wind, quick as the flight of thought, he reached Mahishmati. He entered that city, full of people swollen with joy, as Brahma enters Amaravati. Recognizing the sage who came like the rising sun, hard to look upon, Arjuna’s ministers announced his coming; and knowing “It is Pulastya,” the lord of the Haihayas went forward to meet the ascetic with his hands folded upon his head.
The house-priest went before the king with the water of welcome and the honey-offering, as Brihaspati before Indra. Seeing the sage come like the rising sun, Arjuna in awe bowed low, as before the supreme Brahman. Offering the honey-mixture, a cow, and water for the feet and hands, the king said in a voice choked with joy to Pulastya: today all is well with me, god; today my vow bears fruit; today my birth bears fruit; today my penance bears fruit, that I salute your feet, revered by the gods. This kingdom, these sons, these wives, and I myself are yours. What shall I do? Command me.
Asking after the welfare of dharma, of the sacred fire, and of his sons, Pulastya said to the Haihaya king Arjuna: lotus-petal-eyed lord of men, whose face is like the full moon, matchless is your strength, by which you have conquered Dashagriva. That same grandson of mine, hard to conquer in battle, before whose fear the sea and the wind stood still, you have bound in the fight. You have drunk the fame of my son and made your own name famous. At my word now, child, release Dashanana. Taking the sage’s command upon his head, Arjuna, without a word, released the raksasa lord in gladness.
Setting free the foe of the gods, honoring him with divine ornaments, garlands, and garments, making with him a friendship without malice, with fire for witness, Arjuna bowed to Pulastya, son of Brahma, and went to his own palace. Released without condition, honored as a guest, embraced with affection by his forefather, yet conquered, Ravana was ashamed. Having freed Dashagriva, the foremost sage Pulastya too returned to Brahma’s world. So, delight of Raghu, there are warriors stronger even than the strong; so one who wishes his own good should never scorn an enemy. Freed again by Pulastya’s word, the mighty Ravana, having made friendship with Arjuna, once more set out to destroy kings and range the whole earth in his pride.
A key to reading this (name): Pulastya is Ravana’s grandfather (the father of Vishrava), so Ravana is his grandson, his son’s son. The keynote of this canto, “there are warriors stronger even than the strong, do not scorn an enemy,” is the moral center of the whole Uttarakanda.
The gist: Pulastya came and secured Ravana’s release from Arjuna; Arjuna honored him and made a fire-witnessed friendship. Bearing the shame of defeat, Ravana set out again in his pride to destroy kings, teaching that even the strong must not scorn an enemy.
Ravana’s Humbling at the Hands of Vali, and Their Friendship
Freed by Arjuna, the raksasa lord Ravana, now unhindered, ranged the whole earth. Whatever raksasa or man he heard to be surpassing in strength, he would go to him and challenge him to battle in his pride. One day he came to the city of Kishkindha, ruled by Vali, and challenged the gold-garlanded Vali to single combat. Then the monkey ministers Tara, Sushena, Angada, and Sugriva came to the war-hungry Ravana and said: lord of raksasas, Vali, who alone would be your match, has gone out. What other monkey could stand before you? Vali has gone to make his twilight worship at the four seas and will return this very hour; wait a moment. Look at these heaps of bones, white as conch, of those warriors who asked Vali for battle and were crushed by the strength of the monkey lord. Or, Ravana, even if you have drunk the nectar of the gods, the moment you close with Vali your life will end.
See now this picture of the world, son of Vishrava; wait this moment, and your life will become hard to keep. Or if you are eager to die quickly, go to the southern sea; there on the shore you will see Vali like fire. Scorning Tara, Ravana, terror of the worlds, mounted the Pushpaka and flew to the southern sea. There, seeing Vali, his face like the young sun, bright as a golden mountain, absorbed in his twilight worship, the collyrium-dark Ravana got down from the Pushpaka and crept up with soundless steps to seize him.
By chance Vali saw the sin-minded Ravana come, but felt no alarm, as a lion sees a hare or Garuda a serpent. (Vali thought within himself:) this sinful Ravana comes to seize me; I will tuck him under my arm and, holding him dangling, go and see the other three seas. Dangling, his thighs, hands, and garments loose, like a serpent in Garuda’s claw, men shall see Dashagriva swinging under my arm. Resolving so, Vali kept silent, reciting his Vedic mantras, and stood like the king of mountains.
Both eager to seize the other, monkey and raksasa strove for that end in the pride of their strength. Knowing by the sound of his steps that Ravana was set to seize him, Vali, though his back was turned, caught him as Garuda catches a serpent. Tucking him under his arm, Vali leaped swiftly into the sky and bore Ravana off like a cloud borne by the wind, though Ravana clawed at Vali again and again with his nails. As Ravana was carried away, his raksasa ministers ran shrieking to free him, but wearied by the speed of Vali’s arms and thighs they fell back. Vali shone like the sun in the sky followed by a bank of clouds. The king of mountains itself moved from Vali’s path, for what creature of flesh and blood that wished to live would not? Where not even flocks of birds could reach, Vali made his twilight worship in turn at the four seas, and, tucking Ravana under his arm, passing the western, northern, and eastern seas, returned to Kishkindha.
Wearied with carrying Ravana, Vali came down in the grove of Kishkindha and, setting Ravana down from under his arm, asked him laughing again and again, “Where have you come from?” Rolling his eyes in wonder and weariness, the raksasa lord said: monkey lord, mighty as Mahendra, I am the raksasa lord Ravana; I came in the wish for battle, and today you have caught me. Ah, your strength, valor, and depth, that you caught me like a beast and carried me round all four seas! What other hero could bear me so, tireless and so swift? Such a course belongs only to three, O leaper: the mind, the wind, and Garuda, and now to you as well, of that there is no doubt. Seeing your strength, best of monkeys, I wish, with fire for witness, for lasting and warm friendship with you. Lord of monkeys, our wives, sons, cities, realms, pleasures, garments, and food shall all be held in common.
Then, kindling a fire, embracing each other, monkey and raksasa became as brothers. With joined palms the two, monkey and raksasa, entered Kishkindha in gladness as two lions a mountain cave. Ravana stayed there a month like Sugriva, then, longing to destroy the three worlds, was borne away by his ministers. Lord, this is what happened of old, that Vali overthrew Ravana and made him a brother with fire for witness. Rama, Vali’s strength was matchless and supreme; and that same Vali was burned to ash by your hand like a moth.
A key to reading this (concept): Agastya joins two things by this tale: Ravana was so strong that even Arjuna and Vali could seize him, and yet Vali was killed by Rama with a single arrow. This comparison is an indirect proclamation of Rama’s greatness, which the story of Hanuman will raise higher still.
The gist: When Ravana reached Kishkindha, Vali, at his twilight worship, tucked him under his arm and carried him round all four seas. Amazed, Ravana asked for a fire-witnessed friendship, made himself Vali’s brother, and stayed a month; Agastya added that this same matchless Vali was burned to ash by a single arrow of Rama.
Hanuman’s Boyhood: The Leap Toward the Sun and the Wrath of the Wind
Gazing at the monkey army despondent at the sight of the sea, Rama said humbly, palms joined, to the southern-dwelling sage: this was the matchless strength of Vali and Ravana; yet to my mind the strength of neither is like Hanuman’s. Heroism, skill, strength, firmness, wisdom, policy, valor, and might, all dwell in Hanuman. Reassuring the army despondent at the sight of the sea, the mighty-armed Hanuman leaped a hundred yojanas. Ravaging Lanka, seeing Sita in Ravana’s inner apartments, speaking with her and giving her comfort, he returned. The vanguards of the army, the ministers’ sons, the Kinkaras, and Ravana’s son Aksha he felled alone. Then, freeing himself from bonds and speaking with Ravana, he burned Lanka like the fire of doom.
Such deeds as Hanuman did in the war, neither Time nor Indra nor Vishnu nor Kubera did. By the strength of his arms alone I won Lanka, Sita, Lakshmana, victory, kingdom, friends, and kinsmen. If Hanuman, friend of Sugriva, had not been with me, who could have brought word of Janaki? It is a wonder that in the time of the feud of Sugriva and Vali, Hanuman did not burn Vali to ash for Sugriva’s sake. It seems to me that Hanuman did not know his own strength, and so, watching the monkey lord in his distress, only looked on. Holy one, great sage honored by the immortals, tell me all this of Hanuman in full and truly.
Hearing Rama’s reasoned words, the sage Agastya spoke before Hanuman himself: best of the Raghus, it is true; in strength, speed, or wit there is no other like him. But long ago seers of unfailing curse laid a curse on him, that though mighty he should not know the whole of his own strength. What he did in his boyhood is beyond describing; by a child’s nature he forgot his strength. If you wish to hear, Raghava, listen with fixed mind, and I will tell it.
By the boon of the sun there is a mountain named Sumeru, golden of hue, where Hanuman’s father Kesari ruled. On his cherished wife Anjana the wind-god begot an excellent son. Having borne that son, bright as the awn of rice, Anjana went to the forest for fruit. Tormented by his mother’s absence and by hunger, the infant cried loud in the reed-grove like Kartikeya. In that very moment, taking the rising sun, red as a bunch of hibiscus, for a fruit, he leaped into the sky to seize it. Facing the young sun, himself like the embodied young sun, the child leaped up into the sky to catch the sun. Seeing the infant Hanuman leap so, gods, danavas, and yaksas were struck with wonder: neither the wind, nor Garuda, nor the mind is so swift as this son of the wind who goes into the high sky. If in infancy his power of motion is such, what will his speed be when he gains youth and strength?
Fearing the sun’s heat, the wind, cool as frost, followed his leaping son and guarded him. By his father’s strength and his child’s nature he flew many thousand yojanas and drew near the sun. Knowing him a witless infant, and that a great work, the work of Rama, was to be done by him, the sun did not burn him. On the very day the child leaped to seize the sun, Rahu too had come to seize the sun. Seeing Hanuman on the sun’s chariot, Rahu, crusher of moon and sun, drew back in fear. Going to Indra’s house, the enraged son of Simhika, Rahu, knit his brows and said: Vasava, slayer of Bala and Vritra, the moon and sun were given me for the stilling of my hunger; why have you given my share to another? Today, in the season of eclipse, I came to seize the sun, and suddenly another Rahu seized the sun.
Hearing Rahu’s words, Indra rose in agitation from his seat, took up his golden garland, and, mounting Airavata, tall as a Kailasa peak, four-tusked, streaming rut, laughing with its golden bells, went with Rahu before him to where the sun was with Hanuman. Then, leaving Indra behind, Rahu went ahead and, running like a mountain peak, came into Hanuman’s view. Leaving the sun, and taking Rahu for a fruit, Hanuman leaped up again into the sky to seize the son of Simhika. Seeing the sun left and the leaper rushing on, the vast Rahu, of whom only the mouth remains, turned his face and fled backward. Crying “Indra, Indra,” Rahu shrieked again and again in terror. Knowing his familiar voice, Indra said, “Do not fear; I will make an end of him now.”
Then, seeing Airavata and taking it too for a great fruit, the son of the wind rushed at the elephant king. As he ran to seize Airavata, Hanuman’s form grew for a moment dread and blazing as Indra’s fire. As Hanuman rushed on so, Indra, the lord of Shachi, though not greatly enraged, struck him with the thunderbolt loosed from his hand. Struck by Indra’s thunderbolt, Hanuman fell upon a mountain, and in falling his left jaw was broken. Seeing his son fallen, undone by the thunderbolt-stroke, the wind grew wroth with Indra for the harm to his child. Holding back the inward flow of breath in all beings, the wind entered a cave with his infant son. Holding back the flow of the bowels and the bladder, giving the utmost pain to creatures, the wind checked all beings as Indra checks the rain. By the wind’s wrath creatures grew breathless, and as their joints failed they became like wood. Without study, without the offering-cry, without the acts of dharma, the three worlds became like hell.
Then the wretched people, gandharvas, gods, asuras, and men, ran in their wish for ease to Prajapati. The gods, their bellies swollen like men with dropsy, said with joined palms: lord, master, you made the four kinds of creatures; you gave the wind the lordship of our life-breath. Best of beings, why then, being the lord of our life-breath, has he today shut us in like the women of an inner chamber? Struck down by the wind, we come to your shelter; remover of sorrow, take away this sorrow born of the wind’s checking.
Hearing this, the lord of creatures, Prajapati, said: this happened for a cause; hear it. On Rahu’s word Indra today struck down the son of the wind, and so the wind is wroth. Though himself without a body, the wind moves in all bodies and sustains them. Without the wind the body becomes like wood. The wind is the breath, the wind is happiness, the wind is this whole world. Without the wind the world knows no joy; today the wind, our very life, has left the world. These all stand breathless, like walls of wood. So let us go where the wind is, sons of the sun; unless we appease him we shall not escape ruin. Hearing this, Prajapati with the gandharvas, serpents, guhyakas, and gods went where the wind sat holding his son, struck down by Indra. Seeing that son, bright as sun, fire, and gold, in his lap, four-faced Brahma, with gods, gandharvas, seers, yaksas, and raksasas, showed grace to the child.
A key to reading this (name): “Hanu” means the jaw; it was because his left jaw was broken by Indra’s thunderbolt that he got the name “Hanuman” (in the next canto). The tale behind the eclipse, of the moon and sun setting Rahu to seize them, belongs to the Bhagavata tradition, that is, it is a mark of a later tradition, not Valmiki’s own account.
The gist: At Rama’s question Agastya began Hanuman’s boyhood: taking the sun for a fruit, the infant Hanuman leaped into the sky, rushed at Rahu and Airavata, and had his jaw broken by Indra’s thunderbolt; the enraged wind held back all breath and choked creation, and the gods led by Brahma came to appease him.
Hanuman Restored to Life, the Boons, and the Sages’ Curse
Seeing the Grandsire, the wind, tormented by the death of his son, stood before the maker with the child in his arms. Adorned with swaying earrings, crown, garland, and golden ornaments, the wind bowed three times and fell at Brahma’s feet. Brahma, knower of the Veda, raised the wind and with his long, ornamented hand stroked the child. At the mere touch of Brahma, Hanuman revived like a watered crop. Seeing Hanuman alive, the wind, bearer of the life-breath, in gladness once more moved through all beings as before. Freed from the wind’s checking, the people rejoiced like a lotus-pond freed from a cold wind.
Then Brahma, endowed with the three pairs of divine qualities, of three forms, dwelling in the three worlds, revered by the gods, said to the gods to please the wind: Mahendra, Agni, Varuna, Mahesha, and lord of wealth, though you know all, I speak your good; hear it. By this child your work shall be done. So, to content the wind, grant him each a boon. Then the thousand-eyed Indra, glad and bright of face, put a garland of lotuses about Hanuman’s neck and said: by the thunderbolt loosed from my hand his jaw was broken, so this best of monkeys shall be famed by the name Hanuman. I give him a most wondrous boon: from today he shall be unkillable by my thunderbolt.
The darkness-destroying sun said: I give him a hundredth part of my splendor. And when the strength to study the scriptures comes to him, I will give him the scriptures, by which he shall be eloquent; in knowledge of the scriptures none shall be his equal. Varuna gave the boon that even through a hundred thousand years his noose and his water should not bring death. Yama gave invulnerability to his rod, and health. The tawny, single-eyed Kubera said: in my pleasure I grant that my mace shall not kill him in battle, and that in battle he shall know no despair. Shankara gave the highest boon, that he should be unkillable by himself and by his weapons. Seeing the child bright as the young sun, the wise Vishvakarma, best of craftsmen, gave a boon: by the divine weapons I have made and hold in mind he shall be unkillable and long-lived.
Brahma gave the boon that he should be long-lived, great-souled, and unkillable by all the rods of Brahman and the curses of brahmins. Wind, this son of yours shall be a terror to enemies, a giver of safety to friends, and unconquerable. He shall take any form at will, go where he wills, move at will, best of leapers; his course shall be unhindered and he shall be famous. In battle he shall do, for the destruction of Ravana, dear to Rama, deeds that make the hair stand on end. So saying, taking leave of the wind, all the gods led by Brahma returned as they had come. The wind too brought his son home and, telling Anjana of the boons, went his way.
Gaining strength from the gods’ boons, Rama, Hanuman shone in his natural gait like a full sea. Filled with speed, that best of monkeys fearlessly began to work offense in the hermitages of the great seers, breaking and scattering and destroying their ladles and vessels, their fire-offerings, and their heaps of bark garments. Knowing that Brahma had made him unkillable by all the curses of brahmins, the seers bore it, held back by the strength of his boons. Though Kesari and the wind forbade him, the son of Anjana kept crossing the bounds. Then the great seers born in the lines of Bhrigu and Angiras, though not greatly angered or vexed, laid a curse on him, best of the Raghus: by the strength on which you rely, monkey, to torment us, by our curse you shall not know it for a long while. When someone reminds you of your fame, then your strength shall grow. By the power of the seers’ curse Hanuman lost the knowledge of his own splendor and valor and moved gently in those hermitages.
In those days the father of Vali and Sugriva, Riksharaja, bright as the sun, was king of all the monkeys. Ruling long, Riksharaja met the law of death, and then the ministers set Vali in his father’s place and Sugriva in Vali’s place as heir. From boyhood there was between Vali and Sugriva a friendship close and unbroken as that of wind and fire. By that curse Hanuman did not know his strength. Rama, when the feud arose between Vali and Sugriva, neither Sugriva, driven off by Vali, nor Hanuman knew his own strength. By the seers’ curse forgetful of his strength, Hanuman stood in Vali’s battle beside Sugriva like a lion held back by an elephant.
In valor, energy, splendor, good conduct, sweetness, policy and its lack, depth, cleverness, might, and firmness, who in the world is greater than Hanuman? Eager to learn grammar, to put his questions to the sun, that measureless monkey lord went from the mount of sunrise to the mount of setting bearing a great text. With sutra, commentary, gloss, and collection of meanings, that monkey lord is accomplished; in scripture and in the ways of meter he has no equal. In all the sciences and the modes of penance he vies with Brihaspati, teacher of the gods. Knowing the meaning of the nine grammars, this Hanuman, by your grace, shall become like Brahma. Destroyer of worlds like the sea, burner of worlds like fire, ender of worlds like Death, who shall stand before Hanuman?
There are other great monkey lords like him: Sugriva, Mainda, Dvivida, Nila, Tara, Angada, Nala, Rambha, and the bears; and Gaja, Gavaksha, Gavaya, Sudanshtra, Mainda, Prabha, Jyotirmukha, and Nala, Rama; all these the gods made for your sake. All this that you asked I have told you; and I have described the boyhood deeds of Hanuman as well. Hearing Agastya’s tale, Rama, Lakshmana, and the assembled monkeys and raksasas were filled with wonder.
Agastya said to Rama: all this you have heard; we have seen you and spoken with you, Rama; now we go. Hearing the words of the fiercely splendid Agastya, Raghava said, palms joined, head bowed: today my gods, my fathers, and my forefathers are pleased; by your presence we and our kinsmen are forever content. There is one thing worthy to lay before you, which I say out of longing; grant it me out of your grace. When I have set the townsfolk and country-folk to their tasks and returned from the forest, I will perform a sacrifice by the power of you good ones. May you of great valor always be members of my sacrifices, wishing me your grace; you are sinless by your penance, and leaning on you I shall be blessed by my fathers and shall know happiness. So when the sacrifice begins, do come here together, without fail. Hearing this, Agastya and the other seers of sharpened vows said, “So it shall be,” and departed, returning as they had come. And Raghava too fell to pondering that matter of the sacrifice in wonder. When the sun set, dismissing the kings and the monkeys, performing the twilight worship as was due, as night began the best of men, Rama, entered his inner apartments.
A sub-tale: This seers’ curse of Hanuman’s “forgetting his strength” is the very device by which, in the Kishkindhakanda, Jambavan reminds him of his power, and only then does he leap the sea. Note that in the gods’ boons the purpose of Rama (the destruction of Ravana, deeds dear to Rama) is already written; that is, Hanuman’s very birth was for the sake of the story of Rama.
The gist: At Brahma’s touch Hanuman revived, and all the gods gave him the name “Hanuman” and many boons of invulnerability, in which Rama’s work was already written. For his mischief the seers cursed him to forget his strength until reminded; having told the tale, Agastya took leave, drawing from Rama a promise to attend his sacrifices.
Source: Srimad Valmiki Ramayana, Uttarakanda, Cantos 1-36 (Gita Press, Gorakhpur).
Based on the Valmiki Ramayana (Gita Press, Gorakhpur)