The Complete Life of Rama Page 24

  He passed by Lakshmana and came face to face with Rama. Rama was happy to encounter him, for he had been waiting for him all these days. It was a glorious encounter. It is said that even the gods came to watch. Both were well versed in the art of warfare. The rest of the army stopped all their individual fights and came to watch this magnificent duel. The Earth and sky were lit up with the brilliance of their arrows, charged with various types of incantations. In one way it was an unfair duel since Rama was on foot and Ravana in a chariot, but Rama was not perturbed.

  Now Lakshmana entered the fray, for he had been itching to have a fight with Ravana. He could never forget the piteous face of his dear sister-in-law, as he had last seen her when she had begged him to go after Rama. With a single arrow he felled Ravana’s splendid banner that had been fluttering in the breeze; he then brought his charioteer down, and broke Ravana’s bow. Vibhishana rushed up and killed the horses, which made Ravana furious. He jumped down from the chariot and sent the famous shakti weapon at his brother. Lakshmana intervened and saved Vibhishana.

  Ravana decided that it was high time he put an end to this puny brother of Rama’s. His green eyes sparking with copper fire, roaring with anger, Ravana hurled another javelin made by Mayan and endowed with magic powers. It sizzled through the air making a horrendous noise. It flew like an awesome meteor at its target and Rama quickly chanted a mantra in order to rob it of its strength. Though it lost its power to kill, it was still potent enough to knock Lakshmana senseless. Rama was most upset to see blood gushing from his brother’s wound, but he knew that this was not the time for weeping, so he continued to fight with Ravana. He shouted to Hanuman and Sugriva to come and take Lakshmana, whom he had taken into his arms, unmindful of the fact that Ravana’s arrows were piercing him all over his body.

  After handing over his beloved brother to their tender ministrations, he concentrated all his energy on Ravana. Turning to his friends he said, “It is obvious that this world cannot contain the two of us. Either he or I will have to die. You may all take vantage positions on the hill and watch, for this battle will be talked about as long as the worlds remain, as long as the Earth stands above the sea, and as long as living beings inhabit this Earth!” All the pent-up fury he had against Ravana, which he had been containing for eleven months, now rose to the front and he fought like a mad tusker.

  The rakshasas were night wanderers, and with the approach of night they became more powerful. But with the approach of day, Ravana became perceptibly weaker. This encounter with Rama was even fiercer than the previous one, and the spectators could only hear the twanging of bowstrings and could hardly see the warriors. The arrows of the demon king had the faces of fiends, lions, tigers, and wolves, while Rama’s arrows looked like firebrands, lightning, and meteors. At last, stung and pierced by numerous gold-tipped arrows, Ravana left the field to take rest and Rama could turn his attention to his brother, who lay unconscious. He begged Sugriva’s court physician to do something for him.

  “If my brother dies, I care not if I win or lose the war. I do not desire the kingdom or even my life. I seem to have lost the desire even to rescue Sita. A wife like her may perhaps be found, but I will never find another like Lakshmana, who was born with me and was like my own shadow, and who has been my sole support and comfort during these dark days.” So saying, Rama sobbed over the body of Lakshmana.

  The physician said, “My lord, Lakshmana’s face has not lost its glow, which makes me believe that he is still alive. His skin does not have the darkness that is associated with death. His palms are still pink and soft. Moreover, he has all the auspicious signs of a long-lived man. So please do not grieve.”

  Turning to Hanuman he requested that he go once again to the Himalayas and bring back the magic herb known as vishalyakarani, which had the property of bringing a person back to consciousness. Before he could complete his sentence, Hanuman had winged his way to the north, but as usual he could not recognize the medicinal herb in question so he carried back the whole peak to the physician. When he breathed in the healing fragrance of the herb, found by the physician and held to his nostrils, Lakshmana woke up as if from sleep, with no loss of energy or sign of fatigue. Both Rama and Lakshmana were deeply grateful to Hanuman.

  Shedding tears of joy Rama clasped his beloved brother in his arms and said, “My dearest brother, if you had died, life would not have held any meaning for me. Neither Sita nor kingdom would have meant anything.”

  Lakshmana was embarrassed by his words and said, “Brother, please keep your oath to kill Ravana today. Please do not worry about me. Go and challenge him to a fight. Before the sun sets you should kill him.”

  Rama knew that his brother spoke the truth but he went into a reverie and for a moment felt that perhaps he might not be able to defeat Ravana. Seeing Rama looking utterly exhausted and sitting in deep thought, the sage Agastya came to him and gave him the great mantra known as the “Aditya Hridaya,” which is a famous hymn to the sun god, said to have the power to overcome all obstacles.

  “O prince of the solar race, mighty armed Rama,” he said, “listen to this ancient mantra by which you will be able to vanquish all your foes in battle. The presiding deity of this hymn is the sun, and if it is chanted fervently, it will result in the destruction of your enemies and bring you victory and unending bliss. It is guaranteed to destroy all sins and allay all anxiety. Worship the golden-orbed deity of the sun, therefore, with this hymn, for he represents the totality of all celestial beings.”

  The all-knowing sage knew that Rama was Narayana incarnate, but he also knew that he was still unaware of his divinity and so he initiated him into the secret mantra, as a guru would initiate an ordinary mortal. By the sincere chanting of this holy hymn, not only will material obstacles be removed but also all obstacles in the path of the seeker of eternal truth. He advised Rama to look at the sun and repeat it and he would surely be victorious in his battle. Hearing this Rama was thrilled, and gazing intently at the rising sun, he repeated the hymn with all fervor and sincerity.

  “Lord of victory! Lord of the East! Lord of the West! O thou immeasurable one! O thou resplendent one! Golden-limbed Creator of the universe! Witness of all things! I bow to you.” After repeating the hymn three times, he went forth to challenge Ravana. Just at that moment the sun came out in a burst of glory as if applauding Rama’s decision and urging him to hurry with the deed at hand.

  Rama shouted for Ravana to come out and the demon king charged forth, seated in another magnificent chariot. A fierce battle began between the two. The watching gods declared it to be an unequal fight since Rama was on the ground and Ravana in a chariot. Indra dispatched his own charioteer, Matali, to go immediately and take his chariot to Rama. He sent his divine weapons and armor to aid him. As Rama watched a brilliant silver chariot with weapons shining like lanterns, yoked to ten silver-gray horses, landed gently in front of him.

  Matali came down and bowed low before him, saying, “O king of the solar race! I have come at the behest of the king of gods. Pray get in and let us begin the fight.” Rama looked at Lakshmana with a smile of understanding. They both recognized the chariot as the one that had been parked outside the hermitage of Sharabhanga, when they had gone to pay homage to the sage. At their meeting with Agastya in the forest, he had told Rama that Indra would send a chariot for him when the need arose, though at that time he had not known what the sage meant. Rama entered the divine vehicle and faced Ravana on an equal footing. The charioteers drove the chariots in a series of skillful and bewildering maneuvers. Each used a number of deadly arrows charged with various potent mantras. The snake arrows of Ravana, which flew with unerring precision at Rama, spitting poison from their agape mouths, were foiled by Rama’s eagle arrows; eagles are avowed enemies of snakes. The sky was thick with flying arrows colliding and obliterating each other with thunderous sounds. The world trembled to witness the wrath of Rama. The sun lost its brilliance and the sea rose in huge waves to watch this terrifyin
g battle. The frown on Rama’s face, which was so rarely seen, made even Ravana tremble in terror. Birds and beasts ran about crying. Valmiki says that just as the sea can be compared only to the sea and the sky to the sky, so the battle between Rama and Ravana can be compared only to the battle between Rama and Ravana.

  At last Ravana took an enormous javelin in his hands to make an end to his opponent once and for all. The weapon was smoking and hissing at its edges as if anxious to go and find its rest in Rama’s chest. Ravana shouted to Rama that this would be the end of him and hurled the mighty javelin at him. Rama countered with a shower of arrows that should have burned up the javelin, but the arrows were incinerated by the fury of Ravana’s weapon. The sight incensed Rama, and he took the shakti weapon that Indra had sent him and hurled it with all his force at the oncoming javelin. The javelin and the shakti collided in midair, and the javelin splintered into a thousand pieces and fell to the Earth, its power exhausted.

  Now Rama spoke, “You call yourself a hero after abducting Sita when she was alone and unattended in the ashrama. What chance did she have against brute force? You are nothing but a thief, a molester of women, and a coward. But beware, your head will provide food for hungry vultures and your blood will be lapped up by wolves before the day is over!”

  Ravana was beginning to be unnerved by Rama’s unflagging enthusiasm and barrage of arrows. His charioteer, seeing the condition of his master, skillfully steered the chariot away from Rama. When Ravana came out of his temporary swoon, he swore at the charioteer and ordered him to drive fast to the midst of the fray. “Ravana never turns his back on his enemies,” he said. “He does not retreat till he has wiped out his foes.”

  “My lord,” said the charioteer, “it is the duty of a charioteer to protect his master. Our horses were tired and you were also fatigued and in a swoon. I saw nothing but evil omens, so I thought it best to bring you away from the situation.”

  Ravana was pleased by the devotion of the charioteer and presented him with his own bracelet. The charioteer whipped up the horses as commanded by his master and brought him in front of Rama once again. Rama requested Matali to maneuver his chariot to a good position, and soon the vehicle of Ravana was covered with the dust of Indra’s chariot. The rest of the army stood like painted figures, spellbound by the scene. Ravana tried to bring down Indra’s divine banner but failed, while Rama’s arrow found its mark and brought down Ravana’s pennant. Ravana bit his lips and glared furiously when he realized that none of his arrows were hurting Rama. The latter, on the other hand, had a slight smile on his face, while his arrows found a sure mark. At last, fitting an arrow resembling a venomous serpent to his bow, Rama sliced off the resplendent head of his opponent, adorned with huge golden earrings. But to his astonishment, in front of his very eyes, there rose another head in the place of the previous one, and then another and then another, as each one was cut off.

  Ravana’s ten heads convey the idea of his inordinate ego. Even with just one head, all of us have egos that are impossible to control, just think of the ego of a person with ten heads! When each of Ravana’s heads was cut off, another reared its haughty hood. It is the same with us. When our ego is put down in one place, we immediately find another way to make ourselves feel important.

  Rama was starting to feel worried, though his face remained calm and a continuous stream of arrows flew from his bow. Thus they struggled through that day and night without rest, until at last Matali, Indra’s charioteer, spoke to the prince of Kosala. “My lord,” he said, “remember who you are. Ravana’s moment of death has come. Dispatch the Brahmastra and kill him. Do not aim at his head but at his chest.”

  When he looked at Ravana’s heart it is said that Rama saw Sita mirrored within, and inside the heart of Sita he saw himself enshrined. He was in a dilemma. What could he do? He waited for the split second when Ravana forgot Sita in his anger against Rama, and at that psychological moment, he whispered the incantation of Brahma and sent his golden-tipped arrow given to him by Agastya, straight at Ravana’s heart. It was the most powerful weapon known to man or god, and very few human beings were initiated into its mysteries, for its power was so great that no one who had not learned to control himself could use it. The arrow was made of the essence of all the elements. Flaming like the fire of universal destruction and as fatal as the end of time, the arrow flew from Rama’s bow like a streak of lightning and found its mark in Ravana’s chest. Piercing through his body, it sank into the Earth and then swerved and returned to Rama’s quiver, like a meek servant. As soon as he was struck, the invincible bow of the king of demons dropped from his nerveless grasp, and his splendid body fell like a thunderbolt from the chariot.

  A shower of flowers streamed from the sky, and the sun came out from behind the clouds. Ravana’s life was fast ebbing. The mighty king of the rakshasas, who had ruled the entire world with the might of his arms alone, now lay dead on the battlefield, a prey to every passing vulture and jackal. He who had no equal in might and valor, who had terrified the whole world and thus earned his name, who had pleased Lord Shiva himself by his glorious chanting of the “Samaveda,” had been killed by a mere mortal as had been prophesied. Though he had been a great hero, because of his lust for a woman, he now lay dead. Even in death he had not lost his splendor. He was still dazzling as a fallen sun.

  The remnants of the night rangers fled in terror, pursued by the jubilant cries of the vanaras. Lakshmana, Sugriva, and Vibhishana and all the others crowded around Rama and congratulated him. Vibhishana was suddenly struck with remorse and wept for his proud brother who had come to such an end. Rama comforted him by saying that Ravana had indeed died a hero’s death.

  “This is the path pursued by the heroes of old,” he said. “For a Kshatriya, there is a right way of living and a right way of dying and he has chosen the right way, on the battlefield. Vibhishana, all enmity ends with death. Now go and do whatever rites are to be performed for him according to the rules, for there is no one but you to do it for him.”

  News of Ravana’s death had spread like wildfire to Lanka, and out of his harem poured thousands of beautiful women taken from all over the world; not even the sun had seen them, for they had never been allowed to go out in the streets. Now they ran to the gory battlefield and threw themselves on his body, weeping piteously.

  “Our lord was granted immunity from death by Brahma and now he has been killed by a mortal. Why did you never listen to us? You abducted Sita despite our advice. She has been the cause of the extermination of the entire race of rakshasas. Had she been restored to Rama, all this would never have happened. You spurned the words of Vibhishana. Fate is indeed all powerful. It was ordained that Ravana, the greatest of all monarchs, should be defeated by a mere mortal, helped by a pack of monkeys and bears.”

  Mandodari, foremost queen of Ravana and mother of the brave Indrajit, now came running to the battlefield, her hair disheveled, her face wet with tears, and lamented over the body of her dead husband.

  “How could such a calamity have overtaken you, my noble one?” Mandodari cried. “How is it possible for a mortal to have killed you? This Rama must be divine. The fact that single-handedly he defeated Khara and Dhushana must have convinced you that he was not an ordinary human being. When I heard that he had built a bridge across the sea, I knew that he was no ordinary mortal. I know now who Rama is. He is Lord Narayana himself—the Supreme Soul. He assumed the garb of an ordinary mortal to save the world, and the gods have assumed the forms of these monkeys. My lord, it is Narayana who has killed you, not a human being. Once upon a time you performed many austerities with your senses under perfect control, and now those senses, like untamed horses, have dragged you to your death. Sita is a noble woman, devoted to her husband. You should have honored her, but instead you chose to insult her. It was her tears of shame and despair that killed you, not Rama’s arrows. What does she have that I lack? In birth I am equally high born; in beauty she is in no way superior; yet blinded by
lust you chose to carve out your dreadful end. You brought death to yourself the day you brought Sita to Lanka. Sita will now be reunited with her lord and will live happily, while I will be plunged into sorrow without you. Where has your smile gone, my lord, where is the look of love in your eyes when you gazed at me? How proud I was of my good fortune! I was the daughter of the architect of the asuras, my husband was king of the rakshasas, and my son was the most valiant warrior in the whole world. How could I believe that death would rob me of my dearest treasures in one fell stroke?” So lamenting, Mandodari fainted over the body of her husband, and the other women had to carry her away. Again and again she ran back to have a last look at her husband’s beloved face, which she would never see again.

  Rama told Vibhishana to set about the task of cremating Ravana. His body was placed on a pyre made of sandalwood and many different types of fragrant woods and herbs and draped with the skins of black antelopes. Curd and ghee were poured on his shoulders and a wooden mortar inserted between his thighs. The corpse was draped with different types of costly cloths, and roasted grain was sprinkled over it. With great reverence Vibhishana touched the earthly remains of his brother with a flaming torch and set fire to it. He completed all the rites connected with the funeral and gave oblations to the departed soul. Then he went and saluted Rama and told him that everything had been done according to his wishes.

  Rama prostrated to Indra’s chariot, thanked Matali, and sent the chariot back. He then asked Lakshmana and Sugriva to take Vibhishana into the city and crown him as king. He did not go himself since his fourteen years were not over. Lakshmana took Vibhishana to the city of Lanka, placed him on the throne, and gave him the ceremonial bath by pouring consecrated water over his head, thus proclaiming him king of Lanka.