The Ramayana (92 page)

“In that unnatural flood, the water swept back toward where Ravana was at his worship. Ravana's eyes turned red as poppies. He glared at the river as if he were gazing at one of his wives being enjoyed by another man. The birds were calm enough in their trees; the elements seemed at peace. He could find no reason why the water flooded back to him.

“Ravana was forced to abandon his incomplete worship. He spoke no word, only pointed a long and imperious finger downstream; he looked at Suka and Sarana, that they should investigate what or who had dared interrupt him. The river flowed west, and Suka and Sarana set their faces in that direction and rose into the air.

“When they had flown just a few moments, and half a yojana, they saw a thousand-armed kshatriya playing in the water with his women. He was as great as a sala tree. The river swelled round him, tossed his hair on its transparent currents like moss, then flowed back from him, as if in fear of that warrior. Suka and Sarana hung invisibly in the air. They saw that the kshatriya in the river was formidable, his eyes red-rimmed, his body hard as rock, his every movement proclaiming that he was a great king, never to be trifled with.

“Suka and Sarana flashed away, still unseen, back to their master. They flew down before Ravana and said breathlessly, ‘Lord, there is a man we do not know in the river, half a yojana downstream. He is as tall as a sala tree and his arms are countless, even like the branches of a tree. He has a thousand women around him, and to amuse them he has spread his arms like a dam across the Narmada. And she cannot flow past him, but breaks her banks as if in terror and flows back toward us.'

“Ravana growled, ‘It is Kartaviryarjuna.'

“At once he set off down the flooding river, hungry for a fight. The wind rose and howled around the Lord of the rakshasas, blowing up a pall of dust. In moments, dark clouds filled the sky, shook with thunder and lightning, and poured down a drizzle of blood. Bright as antimony in the fallen gloom, Ravana arrived at the recalcitrant pool on the river, which Arjuna had created with his thousand arms.

“In a voice like ten peals of thunder, Ravana said to the kshatriya's ministers, ‘Tell your king, Haihayas, that Ravana of Lanka has come to seek battle with him.'

“The ministers replied, ‘You are a shrewd judge of the time to fight, O Ravana, that you have come when our king is drunk and sporting with his women. You come like a cunning tiger, which chooses to attack a bull elephant when he is in rut, among his cows. We say to you, Rakshasa, if you are a man of honor remain here with us tonight, and tomorrow our king will fight you. But if you are impatient and must fight at once, you must face us first, because we will not let you pass to our king.'

“And they drew their swords and stood defiantly before Ravana and his rakshasas. That battle did not last more than a few moments before the Haihayas were all slain and most of them eaten by the demons from Lanka, who by now were hungry. More ministers and soldiers from Kartaviryarjuna's camp came rushing to face Ravana. They poured in like an angry sea, from every side, loosing tides of fierce missiles at the marauders.

“The Haihayas drew first blood; but then, roaring to shake the mountain, Prahastha, Maricha, Suka, Sarana, and the other great rakshasas began to cut them down, so the flooding Narmada was tinted with their dark gore. The rakshasas still ate their adversaries, as they fought on.

“Some of Arjuna's soldiers fled the battle in the forest and went flying to their king, at languorous love in the river. They babbled out their story and he came out slowly from the water. He said to his women, in perfect calm, ‘Do not be afraid.'

“Kartaviryarjuna's eyes were slits of copper. His anger flared up like the fire at the end of the yugas, which consumes the world. He picked up a mace and set out to hunt the rakshasas. Arjuna of the Haihayas scattered the rakshasa front lines as the sun does the night's darkness at dawn. He came among them like a twisting tempest, the mace in his hands striking out in every direction, felling a thousand demons each moment.

“Then Prahastha loomed in his path like another Vindhya, with what seemed to be a great pestle in his hand. Roaring like death, Prahastha cast the occult weapon at Arjuna; as it flew at him its tip burned with a mysterious red fire, formed like an asoka flower. But Arjuna flung his own mace at that weapon: he flung it with five hundred arms! The two ayudhas exploded against each other. Kartaviryarjuna still held a mace in his hands, and he rushed at the astonished Prahastha and struck him a blow like doom on his head. Like a bull struck by Indra's vajra, Ravana's Senapati crumpled.

“Seeing Prahastha overcome so quickly, so easily, Maricha, Suka, Sarana, Mahodara, and the rest slunk away from the field like dogs. Only Ravana remained to confront Arjuna. Like two stormy seas, two agitated mountains, two suns, two apocalyptic fires, two bulls fighting for a cow in heat, two thunderclouds, two lions, like Rudra and Kaala, Kartaviryarjuna and Ravana rushed at each other, maces in hand.

“Their blows were like erupting volcanoes, like earthquakes, like the world being cloven. When Arjuna swung his gada at his enemy's chest, it was a gash of lightning that briefly turns a dark, ominous sky golden. And when Ravana swung his mace at the stupendous kshatriya, it resembled a meteor falling through the sky onto a mountain.

“Neither combatant seemed to tire, though they fought like two rivers in spate trying to drown each other. Why, they fought even as Indra and the Asura Bali did, of old. Suddenly, the Haihaya cast his mace at his opponent like a bolt of fate. That blow would have killed any other warrior in the three worlds; but the mace smashed to dust against Ravana's chest, protected by Brahma's boon. But Ravana staggered back a bow's length and sank to the ground, crying out in pain.

“Seeing his chance, Arjuna darted forward and seized the Rakshasa in his thousand arms, as Garuda would a serpent. Kartaviryarjuna bound Ravana, even as Vishnu once did Bali. From above, there fell a delicate shower of fine petals from Indra's garden, from the immaterial hands of the siddhas, charanas, and Devas.

“When he had Ravana firmly, as a tiger a deer or a lion an elephant, mighty Kartaviryarjuna flung back his head and roared again and again: echoing thunder! Meanwhile, Prahastha, whom Arjuna had felled earlier, had come to his senses. Seeing his precious lord held fast in a thousand arms, he sprang up and charged Arjuna. Following their Senapati, celebrating his recovery, Maricha, Suka, Mahodara, Sarana, and all the other rakshasas rushed at Arjuna from many sides.

“Prahastha, the main assailant, loosed every sort of weapon at the kshatriya who held his master helpless. But with his thousand hands Arjuna plucked them from the air as they flew at him. Then he, also, held countless bows in numberless hands and shot such an extravagance of missiles at the rakshasas that he scattered them as the wind does the fleecy clouds of summer.

“Victorious, the great Haihaya brought Ravana, immobile in the thongs of a thousand arms, back to his city: Mahishmati like a jewel upon the earth. Along his triumphal march through his streets, women and brahmanas showered seasons of flowers over their conquering king and harvests of rice-grains,” said the matchless Muni Agastya in the court of Ayodhya, in the perfect Rama's sabha.

 

20. Ravana and Vali

“In lofty Brahmaloka, Pulastya Muni, Ravana's grandfather, heard the Devas tell with relish how Kartaviryarjuna had taken Ravana prisoner, which they said was hardly easier than capturing the wind.

“Pulastya arrived in Mahishmati by rishi patha, the ethereal skyway of the sages of heaven. When Arjuna's ministers saw the muni, who was as splendid as a sun and hard even to look at, they ran in to their king to tell him that Pulastya himself had come to their city. Kartaviryarjuna folded his palms above his head and came out to receive the holy one.

“The Haihaya king came with arghya, with his own brahmanas going ahead of him, as Brihaspati does when Indra comes to the gates of Amravati to greet Brahma. Arjuna offered Pulastya Muni madhurparka, a cow, and water to wash his feet with, then said to him in some rapture, ‘O Prince among rishis, today my Mahishmati is as blessed as Amravati. My life is fruitful today that Pulastya Muni has come to grace my city. My kingdom and my people are yours to command; all that I own is yours.'

“And he prostrated himself before the rishi. Pulastya laid a hand on the king's head and raised him up. He asked after the welfare of his kingdom, his family, his children, and his people. Then Pulastya said, ‘You have no equal in strength and valor anywhere, O Kartaviryarjuna, that Ravana himself is your prisoner. Only you have ever vanquished my grandson, in awe of whom the sea and the wind stand still. You have consumed his glory, and I, Pulastya, have come to beg you to set my child free.'

“Arjuna did not say a word. He clapped his hands to have Ravana fetched from the dungeon where he held him, and set him free without condition. Why, that kshatriya gave Ravana lavish gifts of unearthly ornaments and clothes, and swore a covenant with him, before a sacred fire, that neither of them would attack the other.

“With this, Arjuna bowed low to Pulastya, took the padadhuli from his feet, and went back into his palace. The rishi, too, blessed his chastened grandson and vanished in a flare of light, back to Brahmaloka. Ravana returned to Lanka. Now that he had sworn friendship with Kartaviryarjuna, there was truly no king left in the three worlds who could pose a threat to the Rakshasa. He ruled as he pleased and extended his sinister sway as far as he ranged. He never hesitated to drink the blood of anyone who dared oppose him; and if he ever heard that any king or warrior, anywhere, of any race, was powerful, he made it a point to visit him and either kill him or have his abject surrender.

“Once, Ravana heard that there was a peerless hero in a jungle of Bharatavarsha. He was a vanara of untold valor and strength, a king of his people, and his name was Vali. Vali ruled the secret city of Kishkinda, and when Ravana heard about his prowess and his exploits, he went to Kishkinda and roared out a challenge to Vali.

“At this, Vali's wife and chief minister, Tara, her father Sushena, who was Vali's physician, and his brother Sugriva came and said, variously, to Ravana, ‘Lord of Lanka, Vali is not in Kishkinda and no one else in this city is even remotely a match for you. Our king has gone to the shores of the four seas to say his sandhya vandana. We beg you, wait, and he will return shortly.'

“Ravana gazed in some curiosity at a great pile of glistening bones heaped outside the hidden gates of Kishkinda. He saw some bones were intact, but others had been crushed almost to powder.

“Tara said to him, ‘These are the bones of those who sought to test their strength against Vali. Not even if you have drunk amrita, Rakshasa, will you escape death if you fight him. Ravana, if you are in a hurry to die, go to the shore of the southern ocean and you will find my husband there at his sandhya vandana, glowing like Agni Deva come down to the earth.'

“He growled at her, ‘We shall see how a monkey fights Ravana of Lanka.'

“Climbing back into the pushpaka vimana, he flew quickly as a thought to the southern shore. There he saw an immense figure seated on the sands, like a small golden mountain, entirely absorbed in his twilight worship. His face, which shone like a rising sun, was turned toward the scarlet sea into which the sun sank like treasure. Ravana, black as night, crept up behind the vanara to seize him. But Vali sensed him coming; he saw him out of the corner of his eye.

“Vali showed no anger; rather he smiled serenely when he glimpsed the ten-headed Demon creeping up on him like a thief. He was like a lion that spied a rabbit, or Garuda sensing a snake. He did not pause his chanting of the Vedic mantras, but he prepared himself for Ravana. He was also determined that he would complete his worship, at all the four seas, this very evening.

“Unaware that he was discovered, Ravana crept up close behind the vanara. But when he raised his arms to seize Vali, quicker than light the great monkey spun around and gripped Ravana's neck in his armpit. The Rakshasa roared, he struggled; he flailed out at Vali, but he could not get free. The vanara held him fast; he held him as easily as he would a child.

“The other rakshasas now leaped out of the vimana and rushed at the vanara to rescue their king. But holding Ravana dangling from his armpit, Vali rose steeply into the sky, lit by the last shafts of the setting sun. The pursuing rakshasas flew up after him, but they could not match Vali's thought-like speed.

“The mountains of the earth swayed out of Vali the vanara's way as he sped toward the three remaining oceans, worshipping the Goddesses of dawn and dusk, being honored by the birds of the air. He alighted on the shore of the western sea, with Ravana dangling helplessly from his armpit like a rag doll.

“Vali immersed himself in the western ocean and chanted the sandhya mantra, standing waist-deep in the water. He flew up again, flitted away to the northern sea, and worshipped there, as well, immersing Ravana as if the Rakshasa were a strange limb of himself. He worshipped at the eastern sea, also, then flew home to Kishkinda and down into a sylvan garden just outside his city. Now Vali felt a trifle tired, having carried Ravana across the length and breadth of Bharatavarsha.

“He lifted his arm, scratched himself as monkeys do, and let the Rakshasa fall from his armpit; and, pretending to notice him only now, began laughing uproariously. ‘From where did you spring?' he asked.

“Ravana said, humbly by now, ‘Vanarendra, I am Ravana, and I came seeking a duel with you, for I heard of your prowess. But I never dreamed there existed in this world anyone who could do to me what you have done today. And, ah, how swiftly you flew! I thought only the mind, Vayu Deva, and Garuda flew so fast.

“‘O jewel among monkeys, having seen you and felt your strength, I would not have you as my enemy. I beg you, let us be friends forever; let us swear friendship before a sacred agni. Let all our lands, our women, our soldiers, our food, all we own, belong to the both of us, jointly. Let us be allies, like brothers!'