The Complete Life of Rama Page 23

  Indrajit could read Rama’s mind so he decided to leave the battlefield and return with a new stratagem. Using his magic powers he created an identical figure of Sita and brought it to the battlefield in his chariot. Hanuman recognized the soiled yellow garment that she had been wearing when he saw her, but it could not dim the radiance of her ethereal beauty. She was sitting forlorn and unhappy, as if she did not care what was happening to her. Hanuman could not tear his gaze away from her grief-stricken face. He did not know what was happening. He leaped toward Indrajit and began to badger him. Indrajit grabbed hold of Sita’s long tresses and started to torment her with his sword while she called loudly for Rama. Hanuman could not bear to see the princess of Videha being insulted so unbearably. He hurled insults at Indrajit, who replied in kind. At last Indrajit told Hanuman to watch carefully, for he was going to make an end of the woman who was the prime cause of all this destruction and of his father’s infatuation. Taking up his sword he slashed Sita across the chest and killed her. Not knowing that this was only a Sita created by his magic, Hanuman wept and decided to end the battle, since there seemed to be no further point in continuing it.

  Hearing this news Rama fainted and Lakshmana took him in his arms and tried to comfort him, as if he were a baby.

  “O brother,” he said, “you have always followed the path of dharma and now see what has happened to us. If dharma could make us victorious, Ravana should have been killed long ago and you should never have been made to undergo such suffering. Dear brother, this is the time for action. I will avenge all the sufferings that have been meted out to you.”

  As he was saying this, Vibhishana came and wanted to know what had caused Rama to faint. When he heard that Sita had been killed in front of Hanuman’s eyes, he said, “How can you believe such a thing? Don’t you know the extent of Ravana’s infatuation for her? Do you think it is possible that he would allow his son to kill her? How often have I asked him to give her up and sue for peace but he has never listened! How can you imagine even for a moment that his son would have dared to kill a woman so dear to his father? I feel quite sure that the whole thing was a trick played by Indrajit, who is a master magician. He plotted the whole thing so that he could go and do the yaga that will make him invincible. Even now, while we are sitting here and lamenting, he must be busy with the yaga. Without wasting any time, let us go to the spot where he is performing the ceremony and stop him from its successful completion. Let Lakshmana come with me. There is no time to be lost. If he is allowed to complete the ritual, he will be totally invincible. As it is he has the weapon of Brahma with him, by which he will be able to kill quite a few of us. Brahma has warned him that only the one who is able to disrupt his yaga would be able to kill him.”

  Rama told Lakshmana to go at once and put an end to Indrajit’s yaga.

  Vasishta says:

  “That mysterious power of Consciousness produces this infinite variety of names and forms. That same Consciousness, when it wants to experience itself, becomes the knowable universe. There is no real transformation, for there is nothing other than Consciousness.”

  Hari Aum Tat Sat

  Ananthaguna-gambhiraya Namaha!

  CANTO VI

  Indrajit

  Sasithunadhanurbanapanim!

  Nakthamcharanthakam!

  Swalilaya jagatrathum!

  Avirbhutamajam vibhum!

  Holding the bow in his hand,

  The ever full, unborn, incarnated,

  In play, in order to save the world.

  Lakshmana armed himself and took the blessings of Rama before proceeding. Vibhishana and Jambavan, with his army of bears, joined him.

  “Come, hurry!” said Vibhishana, “I’ll take you to the magic grove where he is performing the ceremony. The god of fire will give him his magic chariot yoked to tigers, which will make him invulnerable. Only rakshasas can see his hideout.”

  Vibhishana took Lakshmana to the secret grove where Indrajit was conducting his ritual. He touched Lakshmana, who was then able to see Indrajit kneeling before an altar in the grove, invoking the aid of his favorite god, Agni. His back was turned to them as he poured ghee into the fire with a wooden ladle and muttered incantations. The black sacrificial goat was tied to a stake, bleating piteously. Wearing a crimson robe and disheveled locks, Indrajit beat the Earth with his javelin and out came thousands of serpents that coiled themselves round his arrows, which were piled near the altar. His ax then fell on the neck of the goat and severed it neatly, so that it fell in a pool of blood. He held the ladle high above his head, ready for the final invocation. As the flames leaped higher and higher, the tawny figures of the tigers could be seen snarling and growling, waiting for their cue to leap out of the flames, drawing the invincible chariot. Vibhishana nudged Lakshmana and he sent an arrow straight at the upraised ladle and split it in two, just as it was descending for the final offering.

  The nagas hissed and slithered back to the netherworld and Indrajit whirled round with an imprecation and snarled, “You traitor! You have betrayed me. You call yourself my uncle and yet you have disclosed my secrets. Otherwise he could never have found out my secret place of worship. You have eaten the salt of my father and yet you have defected to the enemy. Shame on you! It is better to be a slave in one’s own country than a friend of the enemy by licking his boots. One who abandons his own people and adopts the ways of his enemy is a traitor, and I should kill you first, before killing Lakshmana.”

  Vibhishana retorted, “You are the wicked son of my wicked brother, and I will have nothing to do with either of you. All these years my brother has reveled in sinful acts. His anger and arrogance are legendary. All these years I have borne it because there was nothing I could do. Though I was born in the clan of the rakshasas, my instincts were always those of a human. If I have abandoned you all now, it is because I am weary of living a life of sin and wish to take up a noble path. You are a foolish, impulsive boy, bursting with pride, but beware! Both you and your father are doomed and so is this fabulous city of Lanka!”

  By now Jambavan and his army of bears had began to attack Indrajit’s army. The commotion was so great that Indrajit was forced to put an end to his verbal combat with his uncle and come out through the secret tunnel into the open forest. The demon prince was furious at having to end his ritual to become invulnerable. He came out looking like the god of death. Hanuman barred his progress with a tree in his hand.

  Vibhishana told Lakshmana to go to Hanuman’s aid and accost the grandson of Mayan, the master magician. Lakshmana twanged his bow string and the enraged Indrajit rushed toward him. Clad in silver from head to toe, with silver helmet, sword, and arrows, Indrajit took up his bow and stood in his chariot facing Lakshmana. Hanuman immediately lifted Lakshmana onto his shoulders.

  “Have you forgotten our last encounter, O Lakshmana,” Indrajit shouted, “when I made you and your brother lie flat on the ground? This time I will not let you go so easily but will dispatch you fast to the city of Yama!”

  The two mighty protagonists faced each other for a fight to the finish. Arrow followed arrow with unerring accuracy. Lakshmana shattered lndrajit’s armor and Indrajit retaliated by smashing Lakshmana’s armor. They were totally oblivious to the rest of the world. Their brilliant arrows charged with incantations flew like meteors across the sky and collided in midair with earth-shattering explosions, each negating the other. Beasts and birds flew hither and thither and the very air seemed to hold its breath in fear. Vibhishana also joined in the fray but refrained from fighting with his nephew. Lakshmana sent four steel-tipped arrows that instantly felled the four beautiful, caparisoned horses. As the chariot started to swerve violently, another crescent-shaped arrow neatly severed the charioteer’s head from his shoulders. For a minute Indrajit faltered, but undaunted, he took up his bow and scattered thousands of arrows at Lakshmana’s forces. The monkeys quickly took shelter behind Lakshmana. As it became dark Indrajit ran back to the city and returned with another cha
riot. Lakshmana was wonderstruck at the swiftness with which he returned. Lakshmana smashed this chariot as well. Lifting his sword high above his head, Indrajit whirled it round and round so that the blade seemed ablaze, but just as he was about to release it, Lakshmana shattered it with a hundred arrows.

  The battle raged on furiously. At last Lakshmana took out the arrow given to him by the sage Agastya, charged it with the power of Indra, and prayed to the weapon, “If Rama, son of Dasaratha, is truly a dharmatman, if it is true that he has ever been truthful, has ever been loyal, and is absolutely unrivaled, then let this arrow kill Indrajit, son of Ravana.” So saying, he let fly the mantra-charged arrow at Indrajit. It flew like a streak of lightning straight to its target, and before Indrajit could counter it with one of his own, it neatly severed his handsome head so that it fell to the ground like a golden lotus. Like the bright sun setting behind the hills lay the head of Ravana’s glorious son. The vanara army set up a roar of victory that could be heard by Rama and Sugriva in the camp. The rakshasa army fled to the city, leaving their weapons behind.

  Vibhishana, Hanuman, and Jambavan were thrilled at Lakshmana’s feat. He was carried triumphantly back on Hanuman’s shoulders to the camp, where Rama welcomed him with joy. He took his brother on his lap and embraced him. He called the physician to come and attend to his wounds, which were many. The whole camp rejoiced, and Rama hoped that hearing of his son’s death, Ravana himself would come the next day and fight with him.

  When Ravana heard of the death of the beloved son of Mandodari, he fainted. Indrajit, who had once captured Indra, the king of gods, and brought him in chains to his father, now lay dead, killed by an arrow that had been charged with the power of Indra himself. Reviving from his swoon, he began to lament his son. “My son! My beloved son!” he moaned, “there was no one like you in the whole world. You could defeat every enemy you encountered, yet you have been killed by that puny human being. How is it possible? Without you this entire Earth seems to be an empty place. Life has lost its charm for me now that you are dead, my dearest child. Where have you gone leaving me and your mother and your beloved wife? O Indrajit, why did you have to die?”

  He forgot that he was the sole cause of the destruction of all his sons. His sorrow turned to anger, as it normally did with him, and he decided to kill Sita in truth—not as a trick, as his son had done—for she was the cause of all this. He seemed not to remember that he had no one to blame but himself. It was his cruel and unjust act that had brought calamity on his whole race, as prophesied by Vibhishana. Tears like liquid fire rolled down his cheeks. Picking up his sword he rushed out of the palace, determined to kill Sita, who was still devoted to Rama. His ministers and wives rushed after him. They had seen him angry many times before, but that was nothing compared to what they saw now. Like a malefic comet approaching Venus, he flew at Sita with upraised sword. She saw him coming, sword in hand, and realized that this time he was not approaching with words of love but with the sword of hate and meant to kill her, as easily as he had professed to love her. How easily swayed are the minds of the wicked! One day they profess love and the next day it changes to hate. Sita was ready to die, since she was convinced that Rama had died.

  Fortunately for her one of Ravana’s ministers, who was saner than the rest, approached him and said, “My lord! How can you contemplate such a sinful deed? It was bad enough that you abducted her! How can you think of killing her now, when she is helpless and at your mercy? Leave this poor, defenseless woman alone, and turn your fury against her husband and brother who are the ones who killed your son. Today is the fourteenth day of the dark lunar fortnight. Tomorrow is the night of the new moon, most auspicious for night rangers, which we are. That is the time for you to march against Rama, and after you kill him, you can return victoriously and claim Sita as your own.”

  Ravana seemed to find this advice palatable. He checked his stride and stood for a moment, lost in thought. Then, without a word to anyone, he turned round and marched to his assembly hall.

  The next day he sent his crack regiment of carefully chosen men famed for their valor to the battlefield with orders that they should not return until the Kosala brothers were dead. Armed with all the best weapons of the time, the ill-fated army set out at break of day. The two armies met with a terrible clash and blood flowed like a river. Rama tackled them single-handedly as he had done the army at Janasthana. The army could not be seen due to the shower of arrows that engulfed them. At last Rama took up the weapon called the gandharva, which created a kind of illusion by which many hundreds of Ramas could be seen on all sides. Within the period of an hour, he had totally wrecked Ravana’s crack regiment.

  There was a loud wail in the whole of Lanka, set up by the wives of the deceased. They blamed Surpanekha for being the sole cause of all their troubles. Every house in Lanka was overcome with sorrow. Houses from which at one time only the sound of music and revelry could be heard were now shuddering with the sounds of moans and sobs. As Ravana approached his bedroom, the fascinating Mandodari, daughter of Mayan, the maker of illusions, approached him and softly wound her arms round his neck. “My lord,” she said, “do you have to go for battle tomorrow? Can you not change your mind?”

  Gently he put her away from him and said, “My faithful one, you know I have to go, but please believe in me. I will not let you down.”

  “You have never let me down, my lord,” she said. “From the day you married me, you have given me nothing but delight. How can I forget?”

  For the last time Ravana climbed up to the ramparts of his castle and sang the Samaveda hymns, in which he was an expert and with which he had once pleased Maheswara, lord of the world. The whole of nature seemed to be providing an accompaniment for his chants, with the sighing of the wind, lashing of the waves, and eerie creaking of the trees as they swayed to and fro, in tune with the rhythm of his song. Rama heard it down below and watched fascinated as Ravana’s mighty figure, silhouetted against the sky, swayed and danced to his own music.

  At last with the approach of midnight, amavasya, the night of the new moon, the wind dropped, the waves calmed down, and Ravana descended for his final battle.

  For the first time there was a tinge of fear in Ravana’s voice as he ordered the last of his generals to prepare for battle, for he had decided to go himself and avenge the death of all his loved ones. His divine chariot gleaming with jewels and the golden banner, equipped with all the latest weapons and drawn by eight swift horses, was brought to the gate and Ravana leaped into it like a tiger and took the reins. The demon warriors cheered and clapped as he thundered down the street. He chose to take the fifth gate, the gate of illusion, and rose up like a black swan into the sky.

  Vasishta says:

  “The Creator as well as his creation is Pure Consciousness.

  When that is realized it is known as Brahman.”

  Hari Aum Tat Sat

  Dasagreevashiroharaya Namaha!

  CANTO VII

  The End of Ravana

  Lokabhiramam ranarangadhiram!

  Rajeevanetram Raghuvamsanatham!

  Karunyaroopam karunakaram tam!

  Sri Ramachandram sharanam prapadye!

  I surrender to Sri Rama, lord of the Raghus,

  With lotus petal eyes,

  Handsomest in the whole world,

  Yet a terror on the battlefield.

  The compassionate one, filled with kindness.

  The vanaras were watching the four gates, but Ravana came through the illusory gate in the sky and landed in their midst with a thud. As he emerged from the gate, it is said that the sun lost its luster and the birds started to scream discordantly. Clouds rained drops of blood and horses tripped and fell. Ravana’s face lost its customary glow and his voice became hoarse. His left arm and eye started to throb. All omens were indicative of death.

  He did not heed any of these and drove at a fast pace through the ranks of monkeys accompanied by the remains of his loyal ministers. He fo
rged into the thick of the vanara army and fought like one possessed. None of the vanaras were able to face the onslaught of his fury. Sugriva fought a duel with Ravana’s general, Virupaksha. At last, with a blow from his open palm, Sugriva killed him. Like a lake drying up as summer advances, the forces on both sides were decreasing, as more and more combatants fell. Slowly it dawned on Ravana that fate seemed to be siding with Rama or else how could this have happened to him—he, who was considered invincible in all the three worlds. It was unbelievable that his valiant general Virupaksha could have been killed by a single blow from a monkey’s paw. Ravana sent Mahodara to take his place, but Sugriva took up a fallen sword and chopped off his head as easily as cutting a ripe fruit from a tree. The third and last of his great warriors was Mahaparashva. It was the boy prince Angada who killed him.

  Seeing the death of his three dear commanders, Ravana ordered his charioteer to take him immediately to where Rama was. Once again he came in front of Rama. He preferred to forget their first encounter when Rama had treated him so chivalrously. He saw Rama leaning against his famous bow, the Kodanda, with Lakshmana beside him, and the thought crossed his mind that he looked like Narayana himself, with Indra by his side.