The Ramayana

by Valmiki

  Rāma grew angrier and blazing like fire, he turned his arrows upon Dūṣaṇa. The army commander grabbed his mace that was as big as a mountain peak and terrifying enough to make the hair stand on end. Brandishing that huge club, he rushed headlong towards Rāma. Rāma loosed two arrows that severed the charging Dūṣaṇa’s bracelet-covered arms. Dūṣaṇa’s enormous body hit the ground and his mighty club, which was like Indra’s flagstaff, fell from his hand.

  Rāma continued his attack on Dūṣaṇa’s followers and the rākṣasas fell to the earth bleeding, their armour, weapons and ornaments scattered, their heads and bodies split wide open. Bloodied, and with their hair streaming back from their faces, they covered the battlefield the way a sacrificial altar is strewn with kuśa grass. In no time at all the entire forest, now littered with dead rākṣasas, was transformed into a gory hell strewn with flesh and blood. Fourteen thousand rakṣasas who were capable of terrible things were slain by a lone man who fought on foot. The only survivors from that army were the great chariot-warrior Khara, the rākṣasa Triśiras* and Rāma himself.

  Triśiras saw that Khara was preparing to attack Rāma himself. ‘Let me go and fight him, O mighty warrior,’ he said to his commander. ‘You can watch the great Rāma fall in this fight! I swear to you, I will kill this man who deserves to die!’ Eager to embrace death, Triśiras pleaded insistently and finally, Khara allowed him to advance upon Rāma.

  Triśiras climbed into his horse-drawn chariot and surged towards Rāma, looking like a three-crested mountain. With a single arrow, Rāma toppled the battle banner that fluttered above his chariot. Dazed and bewildered, the rākṣasa dismounted, but Rāma pierced him through the heart as he stood there. Then, with three peerless arrows that were sharp and swift, Rāma severed Triśiras’ heads. Drenched in blood, the rākṣasa’s body followed his heads and fell to the ground.

  Khara watched Dūṣaṇa and Triśiras being slain in battle and was somewhat disturbed by Rāma’s strength and skills. The fact that the mighty rākṣasa army had been routed and its generals killed by Rāma single-handed frightened Khara but he attacked Rāma fiercely. He drew his powerful bow and loosed blood-seeking arrows at Rāma which flew through the air like venomous snakes. He displayed his archer’s skills with great flourish and standing in his chariot, performed many impressive battle manouevres. Khara filled the sky with arrows but Rāma countered them with his own that were like flames, bringing down a rain of sparks as they flew.

  Then Rāma picked up Viṣṇu’s mighty bow that had been given to him by Agastya. He loosed golden-feathered arrows from it and brought down Khara’s battle banner. The golden banner, so beautiful to behold, now lay on the ground in tatters like the sun fallen to the earth. Khara knew which were the vulnerable spots on a mortals’ body and sent four arrows into the region of Rāma’s heart. Blood dripping from his body, Rāma grew angrier still and he was truly an awesome sight.

  With three well-chosen arrows, he pierced Khara’s head and arms. With another thirteen, he brought down Khara’s bow, his chariot, his horses and his charioteer. He used his thirteenth arrow to wound Khara in the heart. Khara grabbed his mace and leapt to the ground, ready to confront Rāma. He hurled his gold-decorated mace at Rāma and it came flying through the air like thunder accompanied by lightning. It burned trees and bushes, but Rāma cut it to bits with his arrows even before it reached the ground.

  Khara frowned and looked around for something to throw at Rāma. He saw an enormous sāla tree and wrenched it from the ground with his huge arms. He hurled it at Rāma, roaring, ‘Now you shall die!’ But Rāma slashed it to pieces with a veritable flood of arrows. He was now determined to kill Khara. His eyes blazed with anger and his body was bathed in sweat as he unleashed a shower of arrows which pierced the rākṣasa’s body. Blood poured from Khara’s wounds, frothing like the waterfalls on Mount Prasravaṇa.

  Bewildered by arrows and maddened by the smell of blood, Khara charged at Rāma, but Rāma was an experienced warrior and took a quick step aside. Then he chose a fiery arrow which rivalled Brahmā’s weapon and fitted it into the bow that had been given to him by Indra. He pulled the bow back as far as it would go and released the arrow which thundered through the air and felled the rākṣasa. The fiery arrow consumed Khara in the same way that death is consumed by Śiva’s fires at the end of time.

  The gods and other wondrous beings who had come to witness the battle rejoiced and praised Rāma with joy in their hearts. Lakṣmaṇa and Sītā came out of the cave where they had been hiding and entered the settlement. Victorious Rāma, lauded by all the sages, returned to his hut where he was greeted with delight and respect by the heroic Lakṣmaṇa. Sītā embraced her husband, overjoyed that he was unharmed as well as victorious.

  Chapter Four

  Śūrpanakhā had watched while Rāma performed the impossible task of slaying fourteen thousand rākṣasas as well as Dūṣaṇa, Triśiras and Khara single handed. Roaring like a thunder cloud, she went to Lankā, the city ruled by Rāvaṇa.

  She saw Rāvaṇa in his wondrous chariot Puṣpaka, blazing with splendour and surrounded by his ministers like Indra is surrounded by the māruts. Sitting on a golden throne as bright as the sun, Rāvaṇa was as magnificent as the fire on a sacrificial altar. Undefeated and heroic in battle, he was like death itself, no matter who faced him, gods, gandharvas, bhūtas or the great ṛṣis. Rāvaṇa had been wounded many times in the battles between the gods and the asuras and he still carried the scars from when Airāvata had gored him on the chest with his tusks. Broad-chested, with ten heads and twenty arms, Rāvaṇa bore all the marks of royalty and looked like a king. He was as large as a mountain, had smooth dark skin and sparkling white teeth as bright as his gold earrings.

  Rāvaṇa could stir up placid oceans, he could play with mountains and he could defeat the gods in battle. He did whatever he liked whenever he liked. He constantly violated dharma. He lusted after the wives of others, he was capable of using every celestial weapon and he was always disrupting sacrifices. He had gone to the city of Bhogavatī, defeated Vāsuki and then abducted Takṣaka’s lovely wife after he had defeated him as well. In Kailāsa, he conquered Kubera and took the flying chariot Puṣpaka from him, a chariot that could go anywhere at any time. He was so strong that in his anger he could destroy the forests of Caitraratha, Nandana and other celestial gardens and pleasure groves.

  With his enormous size and prodigious strength, Rāvaṇa could stop the sun and moon from rising. Long ago, he had performed austerities for ten thousand years in the forest and had offered his heads as a sacrifice to Brahmā. For this, he had been granted invulnerability in battle with the gods, dānavas, gandharvas, ṛṣis and uragas, every kind of being, in fact, except mortals. Mighty Rāvaṇa had even defiled the soma juice as it was being pressed inside the sacred enclosure by brahmins. This cruel and wicked brahmin-killer would ruin sacrifices just as they were about to be completed. Ruthless and harsh, Rāvaṇa wished ill for all beings and the entire universe was terrified of him.

  Śūrpanakhā gazed at her mighty brother, dressed in celestial clothes and ornaments, who was descended from Pulastya and who was the king of the rākṣasas. That poor mutilated creature, terrified and confused, showed Rāvaṇa her wounds. Pathetic and angry, Śūrpanakhā spoke harshly to Rāvaṇa, who made the worlds weep, in front of all his ministers. ‘Intoxicated with lust, indulging all your desires, living entirely by your whims and totally without any restraint, you have no idea of the danger you are in! You should know this but you don’t!

  ‘Subjects have no more regard for a wayward and wilful ruler who seeks vulgar pleasures than they have for the flames of a funeral pyre. A king who gives no attention to the affairs of state will be destroyed along with his kingdom because of this neglect. Now that you have angered the gods, gandharvas and the dānavas, how can you go on without the services of spies and informers? The king who has no control over his spies, his finances and his administration is no b
etter than a commoner, great hero!

  ‘You don’t even know that your people have been massacred in Janasthāna. I can only conclude from this that you have no informants and that you are surrounded by incompetent ministers. Fourteen thousand fierce rākṣasas as well as Khara and Dūṣaṇa were killed by Rāma alone! Janasthāna has been destroyed and the Daṇḍaka forests have been cleansed. The sages no longer live in fear because of Rāma, who always does the right thing. Rāvaṇa, you are greedy, lustful and utterly dependent upon others! How could you not know about this catastrophe which occurred within your own kingdom?’

  Rāvaṇa, the king of the rākṣasas, with all his power and wealth and pride, thought long and hard about Śūrpanakhā’s insulting remarks.

  ‘Who is this Rāma? What does he look like?’ asked Rāvaṇa when his sister had finished her invective. ‘How brave is he? Is he strong and skilled? Why has he come to the inhospitable Daṇḍaka forest? What weapons did he use in battle to kill Khara, Triśiras and Dūṣaṇa?’

  Śūrpanakhā began to describe Rāma as he really was, her anger rising. ‘Rāma is the son of Daśaratha. He has strong and powerful arms and his eyes are large and beautiful. He wears the skin of the black antelope and he is as handsome as the god of love. He uses a bow decorated with gold that is so beautiful it equals Indra’s. He showers blazing arrows that fall like poisonous snakes. I never saw mighty Rāma drawing his bow or releasing a single arrow when he was fighting. All I saw was the huge army felled by a rain of arrows, as the ripened crop is laid low by Indra’s storms.

  ‘Fourteen thousand rākṣasas, each capable of terrible things, as well as Khara and Dūṣaṇa, were killed by the sharp arrows of a man who fought alone and on foot! In one and a half hours, the sages were relieved of their fear and the Daṇḍaka region was made safe. I was the only one who escaped, disgraced by Rāma who obviously hesitated to kill a woman.

  ‘Rāma has a brother, brave, strong and his equal in virtue, quick to anger and invincible against all beings. His name is Lakṣmaṇa and he is devoted to Rāma. He is Rāma’s right arm, the breath outside his body. Rāma also has a beautiful wife named Sītā. Large-eyed and delicate, she is the princess of Videha and she is the best of all women. Not even among the gods, the gandharvīs, the yakṣīs or the kinnaris have I seen a woman as lovely as this one. Whoever has her as a wife and shares her embraces will be the happiest person in the world. She would be an ideal match for you. I tried to carry that peerless creature, with the ample hips and high full breasts, away as a wife for you. When you see her face, which is as beautiful as the full moon, you shall be a victim of love’s arrows. If you want her as your wife then put your best foot forward without any further delay!

  ‘Take revenge for your people, king of the rākṣasas, and kill cruel Rāma who lives like a hermit. Once you have killed Rāma and the great warrior Lakṣmaṇa, Sītā will be vulnerable and helpless and you can have your way with her. If you like my plan then set forth immediately with no second thoughts!’

  Rāvaṇa dismissed his ministers and began to think about what he should do. He considered the matter from all angles and after weighing its virtues and shortcomings, he decided to go ahead with Śūrpanakhā’s idea.

  He ordered his charioteer to prepare his chariot which was decorated with gold and studded with jewels. It was drawn by asses with the faces of piśācas and could go absolutely anywhere.

  The king of the rākṣasas, the younger brother of Kubera, rumbled like thunder in his chariot and went towards the ocean. On the far shore, he saw a solitary hut deep inside a forest in a quiet, sacred spot. And there, Rāvaṇa came upon the rākṣasa Mārīca. Mārīca wore the skin of a black antelope, his hair was matted into locks and he hardly ate anything at all.

  Mārīca greeted Rāvaṇa with all the rituals appropriate for a guest. ‘Listen to me, Mārīca,’ said Rāvaṇa. ‘I am in trouble and you are the only one who can help me. You know that my brothers Khara and Dūṣaṇa, my sister Śūrpanakhā, Triśiras who feeds on human flesh, and several other mighty rākṣasas live in Janasthāna. They live there under my instructions and they torment the sages who practice dharma in the forest. There were fourteen thousand rākṣasas capable of terrible things, brave and eager to do battle, under Khara’s command. They got into a fight with Rāma.

  ‘Even though Rāma was in a rage, he was totally silent on the battlefield. But he used his bow so effectively that all the fourteen thousand rākṣasas were killed. Killed by the arrows of a man fighting alone and on foot! Triśiras, Dūṣaṇa and Khara were also killed and the Daṇḍaka forests are now free of danger.

  ‘This Rāma shall have a short life! His angry father exiled him and his wife to the forest. Now that he has slain the entire rākṣasa army, he is a disgrace to the kṣatriyas. His conduct is improper, he is dull-witted and controlled entirely by his senses. He violates dharma and wishes ill for all living creatures. Taking refuge in his superior strength, he mutilated my sister in the forest by cutting off her nose and ears. He did all this without reason, without enmity.

  ‘I am going to abduct his wife Sītā from Janasthāna. She is as beautiful as a daughter of the gods. And I want you to help me with this. With my brothers and some one as mighty as you by my side, I would not worry even if I had to meet the gods in battle! You are unrivalled for your courage and pride on the battlefield. Give me all the help you can, rākṣasa!

  ‘I came to you for this reason alone. Listen and I will tell you what I need you to do. Turn yourself into a wondrous golden deer with silver spots and graze in front of Rāma’s settlement, within sight of Rāma and Sītā. I have no doubt that when Sītā sees you as the deer, she will ask Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa to get it for her. That place is absolutely deserted so I can carry Sītā away in their absence, just as the eclipse grasps the moon, without anything to hinder me. After that, when I have fulfilled my dearest wish and Rāma is grief-stricken because of his wife’s abduction, I shall attack him without any problems.’

  Mārīca turned pale as he listened. His mouth was dry with fear and he licked his lips, agitated because he had had an earlier encounter with Rāma. He decided to give Rāvaṇa some advice that would stand them both in good stead.

  ‘It is easy to find someone who will speak to you pleasantly, king!’ said the wise and eloquent Mārīca. ‘It is much harder to find people who will tell you unpleasant truths, or people who will listen to them. You obviously have not made use of competent spies or you would know that Rāma is a man of great courage and virtue, like unto Indra and Varuṇa. I wish all was well with the rākṣasas and that Rāma did not want to wipe them off the face of the earth in his anger.

  ‘A foolish king, like you, who is a slave to his passions, acts improperly and is advised by wicked ministers can only lead himself, his kingdom and his people to total ruin. Rāma has not renounced his father nor has he transgressed the bounds of decency. He is neither greedy nor badly behaved and he is certainly not a disgrace to the kṣatriyas. He is virtuous and desires the best for all beings.

  ‘When he realized that his honourable father was besotted with Kaikeyī, he agreed to go to the forest on the basis of dharma. He renounced the kingdom and all its royal pleasures to make Daśaratha and Kaikeyī happy. He is not cruel or dull-witted or unrestrained. It is not appropriate for you to utter such slanderous lies! Rāma never transgresses dharma. He is good and true and is as justifiably the king of the world as Indra is the king of the gods.

  ‘How could you even think of abducting Sītā? She is protected by her own power. It would be like trying to rob the sun of its glory. Why do you want to do this absurd and unnecessary thing? The moment Rāma sees you on the battlefield will be your last! If you value your life, your kingdom and your happiness, all of which are not easy to obtain, then take the advice of your righteous ministers led by Vibhīṣaṇa.

  ‘I think it is folly for you to face Rāma in combat. But more than this, king of the rākṣasas, let me tell
you something that will indicate to you what is possible and what is not!

  ‘Long ago, when Rāma was just a boy, the sage Viśvāmitra brought him to his hermitage to prevent me from interrupting and destroying his sacrifice. I entered the hermitage with my weapon held high, not giving Rāma a second look. He saw me and calmly strung his bow. I was stupid to have ignored him simply because he was a boy. I charged towards Viśvāmitra’s sacrificial altar. Rāma loosed a single arrow that was sure and true and when it struck me, I was lifted and thrown into the ocean, hundreds of yojanās away.

  ‘If you make an enemy of Rāma despite my warnings, you will be bringing a terrible calamity upon yourself. You will cause the destruction of the rākṣasas who love to play and celebrate and enjoy all kinds of pleasures. You will see your fabulous city of Lankā, adorned with gems and glorious buildings, laid low because of Sītā. You will see Lankā consumed, its mansions pierced by arrows going up in flames.

  ‘You have thousands of beautiful women as your wives and concubines. Amuse yourself with them and protect your race! Don’t do anything that would displease Rāma if you want to preserve your power, prestige, your kingdom and your life. I am your friend and I wish you well. If you ignore my advice and persist with your plan to abduct Sītā, Rāma’s arrows will take your life. Your army will be destroyed and your people shall die!

  ‘Rāma’s arrows spared me and when I escaped with my life, I came to live here, to meditate and practise austerities. I see Rāma in every tree! Clad in his antelope skin, he carries his immense bow like the god of death carries his noose! In my terror, Rāvaṇa, I see thousands of Rāmas, the entire forest seems to have turned into Rāma! I see Rāma where he isn’t. He enters my dreams and I scream in terror! Even words that start with ‘R’ frighten me! I tremble when people use words like ‘radha’ or ‘ratha!”

  ‘I know Rāma’s strength, Rāvaṇa! You cannot stand up to him in battle! Fight with him openly if you insist or keep the peace. But never mention Rāma again if you wish to see me!’