The Ramayana (63 page)

He glowered at old Malyavan. “Hear me clearly—you, Malyavan, and all the others who are so afraid: it is not in my nature to submit, not to this Rama nor to anyone. One's nature can never change. I am Ravana, and Ravana I will remain, whether I live or die.

“You say the building of the bridge across the sea is a feat that shows Rama's prowess. I say to you, he will not return by that bridge. It shall prove the bridge to his death.”

Ravana stood blazing before his hushed sabha. Malyavan saw it was no use trying to reason with him, and held his peace. He mumbled a customary blessing and left the court.

Ravana began to prepare in earnest to meet the vanara invasion. He issued orders to his commanders. “Prahastha, you guard the eastern gate; Mahaparshva and Mahodara go to the southern gate. Indrajit, noble son, you meet the monkeys in the west. I myself will see to the northern gate. Virupaksha, take your army to the heart of Lanka and kill any monkeys that scale our walls.”

Those rakshasas went out to their places, with their monstrous legions.

 

12. Between two hills

Beyond Ravana's city gates, the vanara chieftains had gathered around Rama and Lakshmana. Sugriva said, “Rama, the walls of Lanka are lofty and smooth, and the rakshasas who guard her gates are fierce. Our war will not be an easy one.”

Vibheeshana said, “Our spies have returned, the friendly birds with whom the monkeys palavered. They say Prahastha guards the east, Mahaparshva and Mahodara the south, Indrajit the west, and Ravana himself the northern gates of Lanka. Virupaksha and his rakshasas guard the fortress at the heart of the city.”

Vibheeshana described the might of the rakshasa army in detail. There was little he did not know, whether of the characters of the demon generals themselves or the warriors each one commanded. He recounted the battle against Kubera: how each legion fought, which rakshasas were the bravest and most to be feared. He described again how Indrajit brought Indra to Lanka, bound in his livid astra.

Finally he said, “Don't underestimate my brother's army, or his courage and ability. But Rama, my heart knows you can win this war. It will be hard, but it is not beyond you. Ravana has never been tested by an enemy to whose arrows he is vulnerable. Brahma's boon does not protect him from you or your vanaras. Let us see how he fights a battle in which he knows he can be killed.”

Silence fell on the chieftains of Rama's jungle army. The time for the assault on Lanka was not far. Unlike the Rakshasa within his walls, Rama instructed his soldiers calmly and gently. “Good Neela, you attack Prahastha at the eastern gate. Brave Angada, take your army south to confront not one but two great rakshasas. Let Hanuman go to the western gate against Indrajit. Lakshmana and I will assail the north; while Sugriva, Jambavan, and Vibheeshana remain at the heart of our army, guiding us with their experience and wisdom.

“No vanara should assume the guise of a man when we fight, or he may be mistaken for the enemy by our own soldiers.”

He grew quiet, and Rama's was a resonant quietness. He said softly, “For too long this Evil One has been a curse upon the earth. Too long his rakshasas have drunk the blood of the rishis of peace, whose tapasya supports dharma in the world. His time has come: not for nothing was Sita abducted; not for nothing did Sugriva and I meet on Rishyamooka. The hand of fate is always upon us, and everything that happens in this world is by fate.

“My friends, Ravana's time to die is here, and the earth will be rid of a great burden when he dies.”

The sun was sinking into the sea again, and evening settled around them. Rama said, “Let us climb Suvela and spend our last night before the war on it.”

Rama, Lakshmana, Sugriva, and Vibheeshana climbed that hill. Below them Lanka lay like another galaxy, its lights twinkling like stars in its streets and homes as night fell.

Rama said, “It is so peaceful here, and how beautiful Lanka looks. But when I think Sita is a prisoner within those walls, I can hardly contain my anger. I wonder how a king who has as little dharma as Ravana has ruled for so long. He is a blot on the name of the noble family into which he was born. You, Vibheeshana, are his brother; you have left his side at this critical time, for what he has sunk to. I feel sad that all the rakshasas of Lanka must pay with their lives for their king's sin.”

By the last light of day, Lanka seemed to float again in the air: a dream city. Then night was upon the island, and from the east, majestically, there rose a golden moon. A sea breeze, full of solemn news, plucked at the faces of those who had climbed the hill. Soft excitement gripped Rama as he sat silently on a rock. Lakshmana stood beside his brother, perfectly calm on the eve of battle.

Thus they sat, the human princes and the monkeys of the forest, staring out at Lanka and, beyond, to the silver and golden waves of the moon-drenched ocean. The rhythm and swell of the tide reached across the night and lulled them. They, and their army below them, slept deeply, and no dreams disturbed their rest.

*   *   *

The next morning they saw Lanka below them like a vision in vivid colors. The dawn breeze carried the scents of its gardens across to the vanara army. They saw, in wonder, that flowers that bloomed only in other seasons elsewhere in the world were all ablossom here: the dark roses of winter and the bright poppies of summer, at once. Wafted with the scents of flowers came the mellow songs of koyals in the branches of Lanka's trees and the lively noises of waterbirds that had flown here across continents to swim in Ravana's sparkling lakes.

Trikuta rose steeply from the rest of the island, and Lanka still seemed to be built into the wispy clouds of the early morning, a fantasy. Reverberant banks of many kinds of flowers decked the slopes of that hill. Rama and his vanaras stared out raptly at the spectacle shimmering before their eyes. Rama's gaze wandered over that city among cities, and rested on a palace that towered above every other edifice, as if it were a Kailasa among the Himalaya. Rama knew this was Ravana's palace.

A powerful intuition stirred in Rama when he saw that singular palace. He strained his eyes, and then on an open terrace he saw a white parasol unfurled. Suddenly a subliminal current, more potent than anything he had ever felt before, snaked out across the valley between the two hills. It gripped Rama's heart in a vise.

Rama felt a pang of panic. He saw Ravana across the vista that separated them. The Demon wore flowing white silk. He stood there, tall and sinister, staring out hypnotically, as if to destroy the human prince with his look. Rama felt the Rakshasa's hatred reach for him, to snuff life from him, and he shivered in that regard. But the prince of light did not turn away, as his flesh cried out to; he stood firm. The two of them, one of evil and the other of grace, locked stares like swords across the valley.

The tension between the two hills was a potent thing, and the vanara army fell hushed. Breathlessly, they watched the silent contest of wills between their Rama and the terrible one in Lanka. For a while, it seemed the very air might ignite; but at last, it was the Lord of Lanka who looked away first and abruptly turned his back. Rama stood as if he had been turned to stone by the contention. Then a cheer went up from the vanaras and a smile touched his face.

 

13. Sugriva

Rama turned to speak to Sugriva. To his astonishment, he found the vanara had risen bodily from the ground, and with a ringing cry flew at Ravana on his terrace. In a trice, Sugriva flashed across the valley that separated Trikuta and Suvela. Both armies watched, agape, as the monkey king hovered above Ravana and cried, “Rama is the Lord of the world, and I am his servant. Your end has come, Rakshasa, you won't escape.”

The vanara swept down at the astonished Ravana, snatched the golden crown from his head, and flung it to the ground far below the terrace. But Ravana was perfectly composed. He said with a smile, “You must be Vali's foolish brother. Sugriva is the one with the beautiful throat; how unfortunate that throat will soon be slit.”

With a cry, Sugriva fell on Ravana. Well prepared for it, the Rakshasa seized the vanara. But Sugriva was stronger than he had thought, much stronger; the blows he struck the Demon with were like thunderclaps. Panting and cursing, they fought. When Ravana saw the battle was a more equal one than he had bargained for, he began to use maya. He would vanish and reappear before the vanara's eyes. Sugriva grew confused and Ravana's eerie laughter mocked him.

But Sugriva had come only to taunt his enemy. As soon as the Rakshasa began to fight with sorcery, the vanara leaped into the air once more and, quick as a thought, flew back to Rama. The vanaras roared in delight.

Rama embraced Sugriva and cried, “How brave and foolhardy of you, my friend! If you had asked me first, I would never have let you go. Suppose you had been killed; what would I have done? Not Sita, not Lakshmana, not anyone could have made my life worth living again. While you fought, and my heart was in my mouth, I decided that if you died I would kill Ravana, crown Vibheeshana, and take my own life. Do you know that, Sugriva, dearer to me than my life?”

Sugriva blushed and mumbled shyly, “I saw Ravana standing there so haughtily, the devil who stole your Sita from you, and I couldn't help myself.”

Rama smiled. “It is lucky you are as strong as Varuna himself.” He turned to Lakshmana and said more quietly, “All the omens of the earth, the sky, and the sea cry out that we shall fight a great war. Let us not waste any more time.”

Down the Suvela hill came Rama and his vanara chieftains. Rama sat in dhyana, praying and studying the position of the sun, as he had learned to, long ago in Ayodhya, from Vasishta. When the sun reached an auspicious place in the sky, he raised his bow above his head and gave the signal for the march to begin.

The vanaras had gathered rocks; they had pulled up young trees by their roots for the siege of Lanka. Excitement was upon them like a fever and their faces shone. Vibheeshana, Sugriva, Hanuman, Jambavan, Nala, Neela, and Lakshmana walked beside Rama. When they arrived at the gates of the city, they were arrayed again as Rama had ordered.

Rama himself went to the northern gate, where Ravana waited for him within his walls. No fine trees and gardens did the prince's eyes see in Lanka any more, but wave after wave of rakshasas, armed to their teeth, keen for battle. In turn the rakshasas looked out at the monkeys, and they were surprised that this was truly an ocean of vanaras. In contrast to the black-uniformed demon legions, the army of the forest was colorful with flowers in every hue, plucked from the trees and plants of Lanka, with which they had adorned their fur.

 

14. Angada's mission

The sea of vanaras strained at its shores to begin battle. The monkeys' roaring shook the ramparts of Lanka. They were eager for the dharma yuddha, the righteous war; but Rama restrained them. For, by the code of kings, and by dharma itself, a last effort should be made to strike peace: a messenger must be sent to Ravana, suing for it. After consulting Sugriva, Vibheeshana, Hanuman, and Lakshmana, Rama decided to send Angada.

Rama called Vali's son to him and said, “Angada, we must make a final attempt to find a, peaceful solution. Take a message to the Rakshasa from me. Say to him:

“‘Your glory and your kingdom will soon be lost, and your life as well. You are the worst kind of thief there is, and you have abandoned the path of wisdom. For countless years, you have sinned against the rishis of the earth. You have tormented the Devas and darkened the elements of nature. But now the hour of retribution has come.

“‘Remember, Rakshasa, no boon of Brahma protects you against me. You were so brave when you abducted Sita because she was alone; let us see how brave you are when you face me in battle.

“‘I will give you a last chance to make peace. Return Sita to me, ask my pardon, and I will give it to you freely; and your life will be transformed. The Gods themselves send you this chance to mend yourself, and rule for another age. If you do not take it, Ravana, you will die. The choice is yours. There is the short, savage way of bloodshed and death, and the long, kinder way of repentance and dharma. Choose whether you want to remain a king, or if I must kill you and set Vibheeshana on your throne.

“‘If you choose the way of violence, Rakshasa, gaze deeply at your precious Lanka before you come out to fight. It will be the last you see of her before you die.'

“Take him my message, Angada, and tell me what he says.”

With a cry, Angada rose into the air. He was clad in crimson and shone in the sky. The rakshasas gasped to see him as the vanara prince flashed over them and flew straight to Ravana's palace. Ravana stood in his sabha, putting on his armor and issuing final commands to his generals before battle was joined. Silence fell on that sabha when Angada blazed in through the window. He flew down into their midst, and the golden bracelet around his wrist was like a band of fire. Vali's son himself was a tongue of flame in Ravana's court.

Ravana had no time to speak before Angada declared himself: “I am Rama of Ayodhya's messenger.”

Without pausing, he delivered Rama's message, exactly as Rama had given it to him. A growl grew in Ravana's throat as he listened. Time and again, his nine macabre heads appeared and vanished around his central face. They glowered at the vanara out of many malevolent eyes. When Angada had finished, Ravana roared so the walls shook around them and the floor under their feet.

“Seize him!” hissed the Lord of the rakshasas.

The demons nearest Angada sprang forward and grasped his ankles. Angada offered no struggle, but allowed himself to be held. Ravana screeched, “Torture him! that he dares come here with such a message.”

The rakshasas fetched ropes and made to bind Angada, when he also gave a tremendous roar. He rose into the air with the four hefty warriors who had seized him and leaped out of the window through which he had come. Angada landed on a terrace and, still roaring, shrugged off the demons who clung to him for their lives. He cast them down to their deaths, onto the flagstones far below. Like a brittle twig from a dead tree, he broke a turret from Ravana's palace roof and smashed it to dust on the terrace. And roaring still, he flew back to Rama.