The Ramayana (62 page)

At last Ravana said, “Tell me which monkey chieftain is which; show me which one leads each legion of the jungle rabble.”

Ravana's spies pointed out Nala and Neela to him, Angada, Hanuman, and many more vanaras. Then Ravana's red eyes rested on Vibheeshana. There was untold rage and pain in them, and Suka and Sarana trembled even more. The spies smoothly moved on to Lakshmana, who stood on the other side of Vibheeshana, and Sugriva, Sushena, and Jambavan, the lumbering king of bears. Gaja, Gavaksha, Gavaya, Mainda, and Dwividha they showed their sovereign. His eyes grew grave when he saw how radiant these monkeys were, how strong and agile.

Quite suddenly, at the heart of the knot of monkey chieftains, they saw Rama. Unearthly blue he was, and the bow at his back gleamed in the sun. Suka and Sarana saw their king's gaze riveted to the dark prince. Taking courage in both hands, they whispered together, “Lord, that is Rama.”

For just a moment, when he saw Rama at the head of that merry force of the jungle, it seemed Ravana felt a pang of doubt. But then, quickly, his eyes were hard again. He turned snarling on Suka and Sarana, “You want to frighten me with this ragtag of foolish monkeys? Who but witless apes would follow a hermit into Lanka, to fight Ravana? As for you two, count yourselves lucky that I don't have your heads. Put it down to the services you have done me in the past. Now go, before I change my mind and reward you with the death you deserve for trying to sow fear in our hearts.”

They bowed to him, crying, “Long live Ravana! May victory be yours,” and fled from his presence, before he did indeed change his mind. They knew that, given the occasion, the lives of his servants meant little enough to the Rakshasa.

 

10. A mayic head

Ravana called a council in his sabha. He said to his ministers, “The enemy is at our gates; let our fighting rakshasas be armed.”

His mood was strange: he was full of thought, which had never been his way just before a battle. The Rakshasa was somber, like a man who has incurred a heavier debt than he could ever discharge. The ministers hurried away to carry out his command. Ravana returned to his private chambers. He dismissed his servants and summoned Vidyudhjiva, his sorcerer.

Vidyudhjiva was a demon with occult powers, not least among them a gift for maya, the sorcery of creating illusions. Ravana said to him, “Make me a bloodied head, just like the prince of Ayodhya's. Make me a bow and a quiver that resemble his in every detail.”

This was not hard for Vidyudhjiva, who had stared long and in some fear at the kshatriya below. Within the hour, the head and the weapons were ready for the king. Ravana went to the asokavana. That garden, which Hanuman had ravaged, had been cleaned up by a contingent of rakshasas. It had been planted again with saplings from other parts of the island.

Far away from her surroundings, borne on a daydream of her love, Sita sat forlorn and bewitching under the lone shimshupa. Her head was bowed and her eyes were teary when Ravana stalked up to her. The moment he saw her his heart was on familiar fire. She was so quiet in her grief, so entirely regal and lovely. Hers was the beauty of one whose spirit had survived its severest trial; in her loneliness she was as deep as the Ganga. She was calm, as if the Rama in her dreaming mind was as real as the one who was missing from her life.

Standing above her, Ravana said tenderly, “Sita.”

She was startled out of her reverie, like a sleeping doe awakened by a tiger. She blanched to see her captor, her breast heaved. Weak at the sight of her face, Ravana said, “Don't waste your dreams on your Rama any more. How often you extolled his valor and said he would easily kill me in battle. But you did not know Ravana when you spoke. You did not know who I am.”

He paused to watch fear start in her eyes, but he saw nothing there. It was as if she had passed beyond the pale of fear by her long ordeal. Disappointed but undaunted, Ravana went on, “Your hermit prince, who killed my cousin Khara, is dead. Forget him now; he is gone forever. Turn your thoughts away from the past and to where it belongs, to where destiny has brought you. Turn your love to me, Sita. Look into my heart and see the flame that burns there for you. Touch me, and feel yourself loved as that boy could never have loved you.

“Arise, precious Sita, come to my antapura with me. I am your hope, your sanctuary. The prince of Ayodhya is dead. If you had not been so stubborn, and resisted me for so long, you might have saved his life. But that is over now. All your punya and your vratas could not protect your Rama. Now prepare yourself to be a queen, the greatest queen on earth: my queen, Ravana's queen in Lanka!”

She stared at him mutely. He went on, “Listen to me, foolish woman. Just as you prayed he would, Rama came to Lanka. He landed on the northern shore with an army of vanaras. But the monkeys were tired after their passage across the sea, and they fell asleep. When my spies reported this to me, I sent my rakshasas under Prahastha and he killed the apes while they slept.

“Your Rama was so tired after his journey, he slept on even when the monkeys died around him. Prahastha crept up to him. With a clean stroke of his sword, he cut off your husband's head and brought it to me. The traitor Vibheeshana has been captured. Lakshmana and the vanaras who escaped death have fled our shores. Sugriva's neck was broken, and Hanuman's jaw, before he was impaled on my warriors' lances. So much, Sita, for your last hope.

“The sands of our northern beaches are no longer pale, but dark with the blood of monkeys.”

Ravana paused; he grinned fiendishly. The Evil One said, “I see from your smile that you do not believe me. I had thought as much, and I have brought something for you to see.”

Ravana snapped his fingers at one of the attendant rakshasis. “Tell Vidyudhjiva to fetch the trophy from the battlefield.”

Vidyudhjiva emerged from the shadows with a sack. Ravana nodded to him. “Show it to her.”

The sorcerer opened the mouth of the sack and drew out the head he had created with his maya. Sita's eyes stared in shock. Vidyudhjiva set the bloody head down before her. Ravana drew a bow out of his sorcerer's bag, a replica of the radiant Kodanda, and said, “Even if you don't recognize your husband's head for what Prahastha's blade has done to it, you will know this bow of which so much was made. Until the bowman came to grief on Lanka.”

Sita gazed at the bloody head, its eyes shut, its neck horribly severed, and she began to scream. “Are you satisfied now, Kaikeyi? The light of the House of Raghu is put out forever. What did my gentle Rama ever do that he came to such an end?”

She fainted and fell across the grisly head. For a long time, as Ravana watched her in satisfaction, she did not stir. Then she awoke and began to wail loudly, calling Rama's name over and over again. Brokenhearted, she stroked and kissed the mayic head.

Sita whispered, ‘They say that only the husband of a loose woman dies like this. But not for a day, not for a moment, have I sinned in deed or thought. Not once have I missed my vratas for Rama. Yet his head lies before me, hewn brutally from his precious body, and I have to see this sight with my eyes. I am cursed!

“Oh Rama, how will your mother Kausalya bear this? How did a common rakshasa do this to you, who were lord of all the earth? I should have allowed Hanuman to carry me out of this accursed place, and this would never have happened. I am the most unfortunate woman ever born. Just when I thought the end of our ordeal was in sight, a rakshasa has ended all my dreams.

“I will not live a day longer, Rama, and Lakshmana will be left alone in the world. His eyes streaming with a grief that will last the rest of his life, his heart full of guilt and dark confusion, he will go back alone to Ayodhya: to bring news of Rama's death to our mothers and our people.”

Ravana stood watching her triumphantly, lust and hope stirring powerfully in his heart. Sita cradled the bloody head and sobbed. Then a messenger arrived in haste from Prahastha. He came running and breathless, and stood with palms folded before the king at his diabolical game.

Ravana glanced at him in annoyance. He was enjoying Sita's grief. He thought the moment had come when her spirit would break and she would turn to him for comfort; and his hardest battle would be won. But the messenger, who stood quaking before his master, obviously brought urgent news. Ravana snapped at him, “Speak!”

“Prahastha has arrived at the palace, my lord. He wishes to be announced immediately; his news is grave.”

With a snarl, Ravana turned away from Sita, who had not once raised her eyes up to him as he so dearly hoped she would. Ravana strode out of the asokavana. At once, Rama's head made of Vidyudhjiva's illusion vanished out of Sita's hands, and the bow and quiver beside her. She gave a cry and fainted again.

A kindly young rakshasi among the others watched, day and night, over Sita. Her name was Sarama. She had heard how Vidyudhjiva had created Rama's head with sorcery. As soon as Ravana stormed away to the palace, Sarama ran to Sita, who lay motionless on the ground. Shaking her, the young rakshasi cried, “Didn't you see how the head and the weapons vanished? They were made of maya. Rama lives!”

At the magic words “Rama lives,” Sita roused herself. They heard drummers and town criers out in the streets of Lanka, summoning the rakshasas to arms. The army of vanaras was at their gates. Sita looked at Sarama in desperate hope. The rakshasi stroked Sita's cheek and said, “Not a vanara is slain, let alone Rama. Your rescue is at hand, lovely one. Pray to Surya Deva that your Rama kills Ravana, and all the earth will rejoice with you.”

Sarama went off again to the palace to glean the latest news from the servants there. She returned shortly, shaking her head. She said, “Yama comes for Ravana's life and the end of Lanka is near. His mother and his older ministers begged the king to give you back to Rama; but he would not listen to them. Like a man who has lost his reason, he cried that he would rather die than give you up: for you were dearer to him than life, many times over. Ah, Sita, you have come here to be the death of him.”

Sita was consoled. She began to pray to all the Gods for Rama's victory.

 

11. The enemy at the gate

Nearer and nearer Lanka's walls came Rama's jungle army. Its trumpets and wild horns, its drums and conches, resounded through the sea air. Ravana sat in his sabha with his ministers and commanders. Repeatedly, he asked for their advice on how their campaign should be planned. But his rakshasas were anxious. They did not boast any more; they could hardly believe the vanaras had actually landed on Lanka.

But their king was still in high spirits. He mocked their silence; he laughed in their faces. He roared at them, “Cowards! Are the mighty rakshasas of Lanka terrified of a foolishness of monkeys? Are the conquerors of the Devas of Amravati and Kubera of the mountain panic-stricken that some long-tailed vanaras have gathered at our gates? Or is it the two human princes that make you so pale? Humans whom you would have as a snack in the morning.

“It is the rumors that terrify you. Just think: none of you has seen the prowess of this Rama and Lakshmana. None of you has measured their worth. But listening to some gossip, you sit here and tremble like women.

“I say to you, Rama is just another man. He may well be the strongest of his kind; but he cannot suddenly become a Deva, a gandharva, or an Asura. He is a puny human, and the strongest of his race is no match for even the least of our rakshasas. Your doubts have turned you against yourselves, and there is no fiercer enemy than one's own mind.

“If you calm your fears, victory will be ours, easily. And the jungles of Bharatavarsha will be rid of the menace of monkeys for good.”

Malyavan was one of the oldest and wisest rakshasas in Ravana's sabha. He had fought countless campaigns at his king's side, and he had known Ravana since he was just a boy.

Now Malyavan said, “A just king rules his kingdom for many years. But a king who turns away from dharma quickly loses his throne, and very likely his life as well. You have never needed me to tell you this before, Ravana, but it seems you do now: the most fatal mistake a warrior can make is to underestimate his enemy.

“Open your eyes and look at the sea of vanaras outside our city. There is a great chance that we will lose a war against them. If there are any more monkeys like Hanuman in their ranks, our defeat is a certainty. If you are sure that your enemy is weaker than you, fight him. But tell me, my son, are you certain you will defeat Rama and the vanara army? Somehow, I don't believe you are.

“Remember, though you are invincible against all the Devas, the Asuras, the gandharvas, the nagas, and the other immortals, you have no boon against men and monkeys. You spurned that blessing in contempt. It is a man, with an army of monkeys, who has come to your gates. No boon protects you against them. Wisdom demands that you give Sita back.

“I have heard that this Rama is Vishnu himself, who has been born as a human prince to kill you. Think with your intellect, Ravana, not your hopes. Could an ordinary man have done what Rama did at Janasthana? He killed fourteen thousand rakshasas, and Khara with them. Could an ordinary man have crossed the sea with an army of monkeys? Would Varuna not have drowned him? But Rama is no ordinary man. Give Sita back to him and, being who he is, he will forgive you. This is your chance to redeem yourself.”

But Ravana turned on Malyavan, as he had never done before. “Old fool, you have joined the ranks of the doubters, who are so enamored of Rama! Why don't you and the rest like you go and join your human prince? Your fine kshatriya, whom his own father turned out of his kingdom, though he was the eldest son. Without wealth to gather a proper army, the upstart has brought a jungle of monkeys to my gates. And you think I should go in fear of him—this nobody, this mere man.

“Can't you see that Sita belongs at my side? She is like Lakshmi, come down into the world just for me. And you want me to give her back tamely to that mendicant? Because he brings a gaggle of monkeys to my island? Is this the rakshasa's way? Do you seriously advise Ravana, Lord of the earth, to go in fear of a human?”