The Ramayana (68 page)

Finally, the king himself fastened his brother's impenetrable kavacha around his vast body. He hugged him as he might a child, with as much fondness, and kissed him on both cheeks. Again and again Ravana embraced him, and Kumbhakarna lay at his feet to receive his blessing. Ravana raised him up and clasped him once more.

It was time for Kumbhakarna to go into battle. Ravana went with him to the palace door to see him on his way.

 

21. The dreadful one

Surrounded by Lanka's most intrepid warriors, maharathika Kumbhakarna went forth to battle Rama and the vanaras. He rumbled at his rakshasas, “The human princes have made Ravana afraid. But I will kill Rama and Lakshmana, and the monkeys will flee Lanka, those we leave alive.”

Their morale restored by the giant's presence, the rakshasas returned to fight. Evil omens gathered in the sky when Kumbhakarna appeared. But when they were pointed out to him, he laughed like thunder. “Who believes in these grandmother's tales? I am Kumbhakarna. The natural laws that bind other men have no power over me.”

Kumbhakarna came to the northern gate, and beyond it he saw the vanaras, countless, oceanic. But the sight did not dismay him. He had fought such armies before, and not of mere monkeys, but Devas and gandharvas armed with unearthly ayudhas. He had never lost a battle yet; he was elemental, no one could contain him.

When they saw him coming, the monkeys whimpered and those in front fled like clouds scattered by a gale. Like a night of terror, he advanced. His golden ornaments were streaks of lightning against his dark body; his pearls were moons. Some distance from the vanaras, the titan stopped. He was as big as ten men, and much bigger when he grew with mahima.

Kumbhakarna saw that the vanaras had recovered from the first shock of seeing him. Clutching onto one another for courage, somehow they stood their ground. The monumental rakshasa threw back his head and roared. Covering their ears, the monkeys scampered back to Rama. Growling, Kumbhakarna stood up in his chariot, his trisula burning in thick hands.

Over the heads of the fleeing vanaras, Rama saw the awesome giant who had come to battle. He asked Vibheeshana, “Who is this monster? He is as big as a hill and wears a crown on his head. His eyes blaze tawny fire, and I have never seen anyone like him before. What is he, a great Asura?”

Vibheeshana said, “He is Visravas's son and Ravana's brother; he is Kumbhakarna, my half-brother. Ravana has his strength by Siva's boon, but Kumbhakarna was born like this. They say he has no equal in battle; and though they love each other dearly, even Ravana is careful with him. Kumbhakarna is so strong that he has never known fear.

“In the war against the Devas, I saw him chase Indra and Yama from the field like children. The ones of light and the lords of the nine planets fled from him, thinking he was Rudra come to raze Devaloka. He is the biggest rakshasa ever created, and the strongest and bravest one.

“As soon as he was born, and he was full-grown in a day, Kumbhakarna felt such a hunger that it seemed only devouring all the world would satisfy him. Everything he saw, he ate. The people of the earth fled to Indra. Indra cast his thunderbolt at Kumbhakarna. But though the vajra struck him squarely, it did not harm him. Howling and laughing at once, the demon broke one of Airavata's tusks and chased the Lord of the Devas with it.

“Indra fled to Brahma. Brahma arrived on his swan and, seeing Kumbhakarna back at his endless gorging, the Pitamaha cried, ‘Let sleep come over you and may you never awaken. For if you do, you will devour all my creation.'

“At once, Kumbhakarna fell into a deathlike slumber. But Ravana, who loved Kumbhakarna, worshipped Brahma. When the Creator appeared before him, Ravana said, ‘Your curse is like letting a champaka tree grow to fullness, and cutting it down when it begins to flower. Mitigate your curse; let my brother not sleep forever.'

“Brahma said, ‘Very well, let him awaken for a day after every six months. But only a day; otherwise, the world will hardly survive his hunger. He will wake for a day and sleep again for another half year.'”

Vibheeshana continued, “Rama, the day he wakes he eats like time itself, only more greedily. He devours whatever comes his way, beasts and men, elephants and tigers, anything at all.”

Rama listened, astonished, to the tale of Kumbhakarna of the plumbless appetite. Vibheeshana said, “You have shaken Ravana, that he has roused Kumbhakarna and sent him into battle. But Rama, our army of monkeys flees just to see him. How will they stand and face him when he begins to fight?”

Rama called out to Neela, “Son of Agni, let the vanaras collect rocks and trees, and surround this enemy when he is near.”

Hanuman, Gavaksha, Sharabha, and Angada climbed to the top of the mountain. Roaring their challenge, those mighty vanaras began the battle: they hurled huge rocks down at Kumbhakarna's army. Angada called to his soldiers, “Foolish monkeys, it is not a real rakshasa but a contrivance that roars to terrify you. Stand and fight, vanaras!”

They were not entirely convinced. But reluctant to let their prince down, the vanaras came back into battle. Hundreds of monkeys surged forward. With powerful sinews, they flung their wild missiles at Kumbhakarna. But tree and rock were blown to dust against his body. Kumbhakarna raised his head again, smiling. He roared once more and the advancing vanaras were rooted with fear.

Then he was among them like an evil storm; he was an army by himself; he was death. He burned the vanaras with his trisula, its flames leaping before him in a livid tide. That trident spewed three fires, emerald, scarlet, and blue. Each was a yojana long and half as wide, and the vanaras were ashed where they stood. Those whom he caught in his hands, Kumbhakarna ate, they screaming and he laughing uproariously at the feast of monkeys before him. He smacked his lips: he liked the taste of their flesh as well as any leopard of the jungle.

The vanaras ran screaming from Kumbhakarna. They flew back to the bridge across the moat outside the city. But Angada stood behind them and roared, “It is a shame on our race that you flee from battle! What are your lives worth once you run like this? Let us die with honor instead, and our fame will outlive us as a divine fragrance. Let us die and find a lofty place for ourselves in Brahmaloka. Stand and fight. Watch what happens to the monster when Rama comes to kill him.”

But the immediate prospect of living was more attractive to the monkeys, and they pushed back in a wave to escape the demon giant. Angada stood between them and flight. He bared his fangs in such fury that suddenly they preferred to face Kumbhakarna, who was at least some distance away. Caught between terror and terror, the poor vanaras turned back to fight.

Dwividha came from behind the monkey lines with a piece of a mountain raised above him. Roaring to chill demons' blood, he cast the crag at Kumbhakarna. But it was heavier than he had thought, and his aim was false. A hundred rakshasas who surrounded Kumbhakarna were crushed with their horses and chariots under the peak. The monkeys were encouraged. Now Hanuman arrived at the front with a boulder in one hand and a tree trunk in the other.

But Kumbhakarna stood laughing at this paltry opposition. Hanuman's tree trunk, flung with force enough to mow down a legion, was burned to ashes by flames from the trisula. The vanara's rock was blasted into powder. Kumbhakarna came on in a wave of blood. He came feasting on vanara flesh, throwing the screaming monkeys into his jaws, two and three at once. His echoing laughter terrified the vanaras and again they turned tail. This was death, naked and inescapable, that swept them in its way. They were not foolish enough to stand and let it consume them.

Just then Hanuman maneuvered himself near Kumbhakarna and fetched him a stunning blow on his face with a tree trunk. Roaring in shock, blood breaking on his lips and through his nose, the rakshasa staggered where he stood. His laughter was stanched for a moment. But quick as light, Kumbhakarna thrust out his trisula like a striking serpent. The green flame from it took Hanuman in the chest, and he fell. In a wink Dwividha was at his side, staving off the giant with rock and tree. Hanuman rose groggily and fought on.

But the vanaras had seen the demon stagger when Hanuman struck him: they knew he was not invincible. The monkeys gained heart and came back to fight. But they could not stand against Ravana's gruesome brother. He slaughtered hundreds of them and his chariot waded through a lake of blood. Everywhere the vanaras lay dead and dying, the wounded screaming pitiably. The giant picked them up, thrust them into his maw, and chewed on them, rolling his eyes. The hunger of waking was still upon him powerfully, and he found he liked the new meat he had tasted today more and more.

The only vanara who could engage Kumbhakarna at all was Angada. He fought hand to hand with the titan whose body shone so eerily. Angada used speed and agility, rather than try to match the giant's strength. Quick as cunning, he dodged and weaved under the flames of the trisula. He found that even Kumbhakarna had to pause for breath, or, perhaps, to recharge his weapon. During those gaps in the fire the trident shot out, Angada would leap to the rakshasa's side and rock him with prodigious blows.

When the flaming trisula was lowered again, Angada was away, leaping out of range, ducking and weaving as Kumbhakarna roared in disgust. Losing patience, he flung the trisula at Angada. But the vanara prince had been goading the demon to just this indiscretion, and he dodged the trident nimbly. He leaped at the unarmed rakshasa and struck him a flurry of blows, each one enough to kill any other warrior. Kumbhakarna reeled; he even fell briefly. But then, growling, he struck Angada from where he sat on the floor of his chariot. Like a rag doll, the vanara flew back fifty paces and was carried unconscious from the field.

Seeing this, and Kumbhakarna without his fiery weapon, a hundred monkeys jumped on him. They clung to him, fastening long nails and fangs in his flesh. But this merely seemed to tickle him. He plucked them off, some with his own flesh clinging to their mouths, and ate them alive. When the lesser vanaras fled again, Kumbhakarna stormed after their king. He had seen Sugriva kill hundreds of rakshasas, away from where he himself fought.

When he saw the dreadful one looming at him, Sugriva seized a flat rock and leaped into the sky. Poised there, he called down to the blood-drenched monster, “You are a legend, Kumbhakarna. You devour my little monkeys and base your fame on your gluttony. But let us see how you wear this stone I crown you with.”

Kumbhakarna smiled hideously, baring fangs longer than a tiger's. He growled, and that sound was like the roaring of an army. “Monkey, don't brag; I know who you are. You are Riksharajas's son and Brahma's grandson. But let us see your valor in battle, not just your boasts. Come, throw your little stone at me.”

Sugriva cast the wind-polished rock down on Kumbhakarna's head like a thunderbolt. But it broke in a thousand fragments and fell harmlessly around the titan. Kumbhakarna threw back his head and laughed. Meanwhile, the trisula he had flung at Angada flew back to him. But Hanuman snatched it out of his hand and snapped the weapon of triune fires on his knee. Roaring to silence every other noise around him, and quicker than seeing, Kumbhakarna swept up a smooth stone from the ground and brought Sugriva down with it like a bird from the air.

With a triumphant yell, the demon bent down and picked up the unconscious vanara in his arms like a baby. He then started to lumber back into Lanka, having shrewdly decided to make the monkey king his hostage. He would bargain for his life with Rama and the vanaras: he would sell Sugriva back to them dearly. Hanuman saw him go. He wondered if he should fly to his king's help, but decided that Sugriva was canny enough, and strong enough, to escape by himself.

Kumbhakarna swaggered into Lanka with Sugriva in his arms. While the rakshasas lined the streets, shouting victory, the giant shambled toward Ravana's palace. Unknown to Kumbhakarna, Sugriva had woken from his faint. But he decided to lie still until he had full command of his faculties.

Suddenly the monkey king leaped up with a roar. He bit Kumbhakarna viciously in his nose and ear, drawing a font of blood. Screaming like a stricken elephant, Kumbhakarna dropped Sugriva. In a flash, the vanara flew up into the sky and back to Rama's side.

Stopping the flow of blood from his face with wet cloths that his rakshasas rushed out to him, Kumbhakarna turned back to the field. His body was streaked with monkeys' gore. Like a black cloud lit by red rays of a setting sun, he came back to battle. Now Lakshmana greeted him with a volley of arrows no army could have withstood. But Kumbhakarna stood unharmed. He blazed at the human prince with another trisula.

When Lakshmana stood unsinged by the weapon's three flames, the huge demon rumbled at him, “You are impressive, little mortal. Yama himself could not stand before me as steadfastly as you do. Indra fled sooner than you. But still, you are a child; your arrows do not harm me. Let me fight your brother; it is he I am after. Once I kill Rama, your army will be headless and our rakshasas can finish the rest of you. Then I can go back to sleep!”

Lakshmana said softly, “You want Rama, here he is.”

He stepped aside. As soon as Kumbhakarna saw Rama, he roared like five thunderstorms and charged the kshatriya. Rama had been waiting impatiently. He met the giant with a brace of astras, weapons whose fires came from the Gods. Rama's shafts were feathered; but feathered as if in anticipation of a dim future, many thousands of years away. Then he would be born into the world again, as a very different blue savior of the times. The feathers on Rama's arrows were those of the peacock.

Rama shot silver arrows through Kumbhakarna's wrists and, screaming shrilly, he dropped his mace and his trident. The demon plunged forward, killing a hundred vanaras with every step he took, killing his own rakshasas if they came in his way. He hefted a rock in his hands and cast it whistling at Rama. But with a lucific shaft, Rama shot it to dust, or the very stuff of this world's illusion.