The Ramayana

by Valmiki

  When Kumbhakarṇa, the enemy of the gods and the brahmins, was killed, the earth shook and all the heavenly beings rejoiced. The monkeys broke into shouts of joy and honoured Rāma for his incredible feat. The surviving rākṣasas ran to tell Rāvaṇa that Kumbhakarṇa had been slain. The king of the rākṣasas was overwhelmed by grief and fell into a swoon. After a while, he regained consciousness and began to lament the loss of his brother.

  ‘Ah, heroic and mighty Kumbhakarṇa! Conqueror of the enemy! Why have you left me and gone? I am as good as dead now that you, my right arm, upon whom I depended and did not fear the gods or the asuras, have fallen. How could a hero like this, who has smashed the pride of the gods and the dānavas, who is like the doomsday fire, how could he have been killed in battle by Rāma?

  ‘I am sure the rejoicing monkeys will seize this opportunity and swarm over the walls of Lankā. What use is the kingdom to me now? Or Sītā? I have no interest in life now that Kumbhakarṇa is dead! I would rather die than live this worthless life if I do not kill Rāma, my brother’s killer, in battle! I shall follow my brother to the abode of death today! I cannot live for a moment without him! I am reaping the fruits of insulting noble Vibhīṣaṇa and ignoring his words!’ Rāvaṇa mourned the loss of his brother and overcome with grief, swooned again.

  Chapter Eight

  Rāvaṇa’s sons and nephews saw him grieving and they spoke words of encouragement, begging to be allowed to join the battle. All his sons were equal to Indra in valour. They could fly in the air, they were masters of the magical arts, they were invincible in battle and could humble the gods. Skilled in the use of all kinds of weapons, they were famous for their exploits. They were experienced warriors and had all won mighty boons for themselves.

  Rāvaṇa called blessings upon his sons and embraced them and decorated them with jewels and ornaments before he sent them out. The rākṣasa princes rubbed themselves with medicinal herbs and sweet perfumes before they set out, impelled by fate. Bright like the sun, they wore glittering crowns and with their gleaming weapons, they shone like planets in the sky. Determined to vanquish the enemy, they thundered and roared and snatched arrows from their quivers. The earth trembled under their feet and the sky was pierced by their battle cries.

  The monkey army saw them coming and roared with delight, eager to show off their strength and skills. And the rākṣasas, not to be outdone, yelled back as they prepared to attack. The monkeys greeted them with a hail of stones and rocks and trees. They crushed and smashed and pulverized the rākṣasas through their armour, even if they were riding in chariots or on horses or elephants. The rākṣasas fought back with arrows and other deadly weapons, tearing the monkeys’ bodies apart. They even snatched rocks and trees from the monkeys and pounded them with their own weapons.

  Riding on a horse that was as swift as the wind, Rāvaṇa’s son Narāntaka cut through the monkey army with his spear like an enormous fish slicing through the waters. He killed seven hundred monkeys with a single blow leaving bloody corpses in his wake. He was everywhere, trampling the monkeys and attacking them before they could run to safety.

  Sugrīva told Angada to confront Narāntaka and Vālī’s splendid son emerged from the mass of monkeys like the sun emerging from the clouds. He had no weapons apart from his nails and teeth but he stood in front of Narāntaka and taunted him. Narāntaka whirled his spear above his head and attacked Angada, but the deadly spear shattered against the monkey’s chest. Angada pounded Narāntaka’s horse with his open palm and it collapsed in a heap, its eyes popping out of its head. Narāntaka attacked Angada with his fists and Angada retaliated by punching Narāntaka in the chest. It was a deadly blow, swift as a thunderbolt and with the weight of a mountain, and the rākṣasa’s chest broke open, blood spurting from it like tongues of flame.

  Rāvaṇa’s other sons cried out when Narāntaka was killed and Devāntaka, Triśiras and Mahodara attacked Angada together. Angada rained trees and mountain peaks and rocks upon them but the rākṣasas cut them to bits with their sharp arrows. Though they all pounded him with their weapons, Angada showed no signs of fatigue or pain. He slapped Mahodara’s great elephant and it fell to the ground. Then he grabbed its tusk and struck Devāntaka with it. Devāntaka dealt Angada a mighty blow with his club while Triśiras pierced the monkey’s head with his arrows.

  Hanumān and Nīla came to Angada’s rescue and the rākṣasas were delighted with the prospect of new enemies to fight. Devāntaka rushed at Hanumān with his iron club raised but Hanumān killed him with a single blow to the head with his fist. Devāntaka fell to the ground, his head smashed to pulp, his teeth and eyes knocked out, his tongue lolling.

  Triśiras and Mahodara attacked Nīla with a shower of arrows and Nīla succumbed. But he recovered very quickly and uprooting an entire hill, he brought it down on Mahodara’s head, killing him in an instant. Triśiras turned his attention to Hanumān, sending his magnificent spear through the air towards the monkey. Hanumān caught it as it flew like a firebrand and roaring fiercely, he snapped it in two. Triśiras then came at Hanumān with his sword but Hanumān felled him with a blow to the chest, snatching the sword that fell from his nerveless hand. Enraged, he severed the rākṣasa’s three heads with their crowns and golden earrings. The blazing heads fell to the ground like planets dislodged from their orbits.

  The monkeys shouted for joy and the earth trembled as the rākṣasas fled in all directions, leaving their weapons behind as they ran in terror of their lives.

  Mountainous Atikāya, who was strong and powerful, was enraged when he saw his brothers being killed. He had been given a boon by Brahmā and had humbled the gods and the dānavas in battle. He blazed like a thousand suns in his chariot and his crown and earrings shone with splendour. He roared like a lion, declaring his name and his exploits and twanged his bow. The monkeys were terrified at the sight of his immense body and fled in all directions, seeking refuge with Rāma.

  Atikāya plunged forward into the monkey army with his chariot, twanging his bow and roaring. The monkey leaders attacked him with trees and rocks but he splintered them with a shower of arrows. The monkeys could not retaliate and withdrew. ‘I am seated in a chariot and armed with a bow and arrows!’ he shouted arrogantly as he approached Rāma. ‘I will not fight with just anyone! Let whoever dares come and confront me!’

  Lakṣmaṇa drew his bow in anger and the sound filled the earth, the mountains, the sky and the ocean. Atikāya shot an arrow at Lakṣmaṇa and it sailed through the air, hissing like a serpent. Lakṣmaṇa shredded it to bits with his crescent-headed arrows and then chose another gleaming, razor-sharp arrow from his quiver. It struck Atikāya on the forehead and the rākṣasa reeled from the impact. Atikāya produced a rain of arrows but Lakṣmaṇa cut them to bits with his own weapons. Lakṣmaṇa loosed an arrow powered by the fire god and Atikāya retaliated with one powered by the sun god. Their tips blazing, the arrows met in the air like hissing serpents. They burnt each other out and were reduced to ashes.

  The two mighty warriors assailed each other with all the celestial weapons at their command but they were perfectly matched and neither could get the better of the other. Finally, the wind god came to Lakṣmaṇa and whispered, ‘Atikāya was granted a boon by Brahmā and he is protected by celestial armour. Use Brahmā’s weapon, there is no other way to kill him!’

  Lakṣmaṇa picked an arrow that would not miss its mark and called upon Brahmā to direct it. The universe shuddered in fear as Lakṣmaṇa fitted it into his bow and loosed it against Atikāya. Atikāya saw it blazing through the air with its golden shaft and though he tried to counter it with his own arrows and all his other weapons, it descended on him with the speed of Garuḍa. It severed his head which crashed to the ground like a Himalayan peak.

  Those rākṣasas that still lived, weary and wretched from being routed by the enemy, wailed aloud when Atikāya fell. They fled back to Lankā, having lost all their leaders. But the monkeys rejoiced and pra
ised Lakṣmaṇa who had triumphed over a formidable enemy.

  Rāvaṇa was beside himself with grief over the death of his sons and he mourned and lamented. His eyes filled with tears and he swooned in sorrow. And as he sat there grieving, his son Indrajit, the best of all the chariot warriors, came to him and said, ‘Father, do not succumb to confusion and despair. I, Indrajit, am still alive. I am the enemy of Indra and no one can escape my arrows! Today you will see Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa lifeless on the battlefield, their broken bodies covered with my arrows!’

  He went out of the city in his splendid chariot, surrounded by fully armed warriors who were eager to fight. The sound of drums and conches filled the air and with the white canopy held over his head, Indrajit seemed like the moon rising into the sky. When Indrajit reached the battlefield, he placed warriors all around his chariot and propitiated the fire with oblations and mantras. He offered flowers and perfumes and the head of a black goat as he surrounded the fire with his weapons. The fire god himself appeared, dressed in red and enveloped by flames, to receive the offerings. Indrajit invoked Brahmā’s powers and muttered mantras over his chariot, and over his bow and other weapons. He made himself invisible in the sky with all the powers he had gathered through the ritual.

  The rākṣasa army marched forward and slaughtered the monkeys with their arrows. Indrajit killed seven and eight monkeys at a time with a single arrow and they ran helter skelter, their bodies streaming with blood, fear lodged in their hearts. Determined to make a stand for Rāma’s sake, they turned and showered Indrajit with trees and stones and boulders but the mighty warrior warded them off and deluged the monkeys with arrows.

  Indrajit inflicted terrible wounds on the leading monkey warriors with his various weapons and they fell to the ground. Indrajit then attacked Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa with showers of arrows that were as bright as the rays of the sun. They did not affect Rāma who turned to Lakṣmaṇa and said, ‘The mighty rākṣasa is using Brahmā’s power for his weapons. Now that he has felled the monkey leaders, he has turned his arrows upon us. He has a boon from Brahmā. How can we kill him when we cannot even see him? Let us pretend to be struck by the arrows and fall to the ground as if we are unconscious. He will definitely return to the city, thinking that he has won the first round of battle!’

  Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa fell to the ground and Indrajit shouted with joy at having created trouble for the monkey army as well as for Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa and returned to Rāvaṇa’s city.

  The monkeys were perplexed and troubled, but there was nothing Sugrīva, Nīla, Angada or Jāmbavān could do. Vibhīṣaṇa saw how disheartened the army was and reassured the monkey leaders. ‘Do not be afraid. This is not the time for grief. It is true the princes have fallen, but it is only because they respect Brahmā’s power that they have succumbed to Indrajit’s arrows. How can this be an occasion for grief?’

  ‘Even though much of the monkey army has been destroyed, let us console those that are still alive!’ said Hanumān. Along with Vibhīṣaṇa, the best of rākṣasas, Hanumān walked through the battlefield at night, lighting the way with torches. They saw the earth covered with tails, arms, torsos, legs, fingers and scattered limbs. Blood flowed from the bodies of fallen monkeys who were the size of mountains and abandoned weapons glowed in the dark. Hanumān and Vibhīṣaṇa saw Sugrīva, Angada, Nīla, Śarabha, Gandhamādana, Jāmbavān, Suṣeṇa and Vegadarśī, Mainda Dvivida, Nala, Jyotimukha and Panasa, all injured on the battlefield. Seventy-six million monkeys had been slain on the fifth day of battle by Brahmā’s weapon.

  Hanumān and Vibhīṣaṇa looked among the bloodied bodies which resembled the ocean at high tide, for Jāmbavān. They found the old bear, pierced by hundreds of arrows, shining like a fire that was about to be extinguished. ‘Can it be, noble one, that you are still alive after being pierced by all these arrows?’ asked Vibhīṣaṇa.

  Jāmbavān replied slowly and painfully, ‘King of the rākṣasas, I recognize your voice, but the pain from my wounds dims my eyes and I cannot see you. Tell me, is Hanumān, the son of the Wind, still alive?’

  ‘You ignore the princes and ask about Hanumān!’ cried Vibhīṣaṇa. ‘Not for king Sugrīva nor Angada, not even for Rāma do you display the kind of affection that you do for Hanumān!’

  ‘Listen, rākṣasa, and I will tell you why I ask about Hanumān,’ said Jāmbavān. ‘If Hanumān is alive, then even though the army has been slaughtered, they are not dead. If Hanumān lives, we shall all live, even though we lie here dead. My child, Hanumān’s powers are equal to his father’s and his courage rivals that of Agni, so we have hope for life!’

  Hanumān came up to Jāmbavān, touched his feet and greeted him with respect. Jāmbavān’s senses were flickering, but he felt as if he had been reborn when he heard Hanumān’s voice. ‘Come here, tiger among monkeys!’ he said. ‘You can save us all! You are the monkeys’ best friend and you are the only one who has the power to save them. This is the time to display your prowess. I can see no other who can do what you can. Heal injured Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa and bring happiness to the army of monkeys and bears!

  ‘Hanumān, fly over the ocean and go to Himavat, the best of mountains. You will see the golden peaks of Kailāsa which are difficult to scale. Between these two mountains lies the herb mountain where all the medicinal herbs shine with unmatched splendour. There you will find four herbs, the mṛtyasanjīvanī, viṣalyakarṇī, sauvarṇakarṇī and samdhānī. They shine so brightly that they illuminate the directions. Collect all four and bring them back here as soon as you can! Son of the Wind, put heart into the monkeys by reviving them!’

  Hanumān expanded with strength as the wind swells the waters of the ocean when he heard Jāmbavān’s words. He went to the top of a mountain and, crushed under his feet, the mountain sank into the earth. Hanumān shattered its peaks and its trees caught fire as they fell. The monkeys could no longer stand on that mountain which had been shaken to its roots. Lankā seemed to dance in the night as its doors, windows and gateways were smashed and as agitated people ran here and there.

  Hanumān was like a mountain himself as he made the earth and the ocean tremble. He roared as he prepared to leap and the rākṣasas were petrified. Hanumān honoured Rāma and steeled himself to perform another great deed for Rāma’s sake. He raised his tail which looked like a serpent, he crouched and flattened his ears against his head. He opened his mouth which blazed like the submarine fire and leapt into the sky. He carried off rocks and trees and natural monkeys but they fell into the ocean because of the speed with which Hanumān flew.

  He stretched out his arms and flew in the direction of Mount Meru. He travelled over the ocean, garlanded with waves and filled with moving and unmoving creatures, as he went onwards like a discus released from the hand of Viṣṇu. Flying as quickly as his father, he crossed mountains and forests, lakes and rivers, ponds, cities and flourishing peoples. He took the path of the sun and soon. He saw Himavat, its peaks like white clouds, covered with streams and waterfalls, caves and the settlements of pious sages. He saw Brahmāloka and the navel of the earth and golden-peaked Kailāsa.

  Between Himavat and Kailāsa, he saw the herb mountain shining like the fire because of the plants that grew on it. He was wonderstruck as he gazed at it, but he quickly alighted and began to gather herbs. He wandered all over the rocky mountain but the herbs saw him coming and, knowing his purpose, they made themselves invisible. Hanumān became impatient and roared loudly.

  ‘Why are you not sympathetic to Rāma’s cause!’ he cried to the mountain. ‘I can crush you in an instant with my strong arms!’ He grabbed the mountain by it peaks and uprooted it along with its trees, elephants, minerals and plateaux. He leapt into the sky with the mountain and the sky dwellers praised and honoured him as he flew along the path of the sun with the shining mountain. He passed close to the sun as he blazed along, shining in the sky like the thousand-spoked discus released by Viṣṇu.

  The monkeys sa
w him returning and roared with joy. Hanumān roared back and Lankā’s mansions echoed and resounded. He came down from the sky in the middle of the monkey army, bowed to monkey leaders and embraced Vibhīṣaṇa. The human princes inhaled the sweet-smelling medicinal herbs and were instantly revived, their wounds healed. The other monkeys were also restored to health and vitality. Hanumān took the herb mountain back to its place near Himavat and returned quickly to Rāma.

  Chapter Nine

  Sugrīva told Hanumān what had to be done next. ‘Since Kumbhakarṇa and the rākṣasa princes are dead, Rāvaṇa cannot order another attack. Let the strongest monkeys jump over the ramparts into Lankā with burning firebrands!’

  When night fell and a deep darkness covered everything, a band of monkeys crept towards Lankā with firebrands in their hands. The rākṣasas deserted their guard posts when they saw the monkeys approaching and the monkeys gleefully set fire to the towers, gates and lofty mansions.

  Thousands of buildings began to burn as the homes of rākṣasa householders were destroyed. Some of the rākṣasas were wearing golden armour and were adorned with garlands and wonderful garments. Their eyes rolled back and they reeled from all the liquor they had drunk. Some of them left their clothes in the hands of their wives, others raved and ranted against the enemy. Some were armed with clubs and spears, others were eating and drinking. Some were asleep with their women on fine couches, some ran as fast as they could, trying to get away with their children.

  The fire devoured them all in the thousands and burned ever more brightly. It consumed their beautiful, spacious homes which were decorated with all kinds of gems and jewels and had been filled with the sweet songs of birds. Enveloped by flames, the gates shone like clouds touched by lightning in the summer sky. Women who had been sleeping in their homes screamed as they burned, their bodies now bereft of all ornaments. From afar, the burning mansions looked like the peaks of the Himālayas lit up by medicinal herbs.