The Ramayana (72 page)

Ravana sat in his sabha, and strange strength was upon him. All his sons and nephews, save Indrajit alone, had been killed; the enemy turned every defeat into a reverberant victory. It was perhaps the last strength of despair; but Ravana no longer sat like a broken man on his throne. He had little left to lose now save his own life, and new courage surged in him.

He called Indrajit. Ravana said to his son, “It seems you are the only answer to the monkeys. Whenever anyone else has gone out to face them, they have been killed. But both times you went to fight, you came back with victory. Each time, Rama and Lakshmana escaped by a miracle. Go forth again, my son; take death with you this time. Fight with any weapon you must, fight subtly with maya. Bring me Rama's head.”

Again Indrajit rode out with his army. He lit a fire of yagna, and worshipped it with oblations and mantras. Once more, Agni came out of the flames and received the havis in burning palms. Indrajit chanted slokas to pacify the Devas, the Danavas, and the Asuras, and his demons brought him his silver chariot, yoked to steeds of unearthly pedigree. It was no common ratha, but the chariot of Maharathika Indrajit, bearer of the brahmastra, and it was proof even against Rama's and Lakshmana's astras.

When he had worshipped the fire, Indrajit cried, “Today I will kill the false hermits who roamed the Dandaka vana. Today the world shall be rid of the race of vanaras.”

Bristling with weapons, Indrajit came to fight; hidden with maya, he flew into the sky. On the ground, battle had been joined again. As a cloud does the earth with rain, Rama and Lakshmana covered the attacking rakshasas with arrows. But then, from on high, Indrajit loosed his own storm of fire. His missiles fell on the vanaras like meteor showers. They flamed down from every side as if there were a hundred invisible archers in the air. The rakshasa's chariot was as quick as time and he hid himself behind some clouds.

Stealth and terror rode with the demon prince. He shot screeching narachas down on Rama and Lakshmana. They began to return his fire; they now tracked him with the quickness of instinct and by the trails his astras left. Ravana's son filled the sky with smoke and fog from his bow, so his arrows left no trails any more. Yet with intuition shrewder than sight, the kshatriyas shot their shafts at him, blindly, and drew blood. Now Rama did not shoot at the prince in his evanescent chariot; he only cut down Indrajit's astras, as soon as he saw them. But Lakshmana aimed at him and the rakshasa was hard-pressed to evade his arrows, though he rode through the sky like a gale.

Many of Indrajit's shafts found their mark, and Rama and Lakshmana soon looked like palasa trees in bloom. But not for a moment did they catch a glimpse of Ravana's son. He kept himself hidden behind his veil of maya. Indrajit assailed not only the princes; around them, thousands of monkeys fell.

Dismayed by the numbers of jungle folk who were dying, Lakshmana cried, “It is adharma, Rama, that a warrior like Indrajit burns the helpless vanaras with astras. They have come to Lanka to fight for us, and thousands of them perish each moment. I will bring this unnatural bird out of the sky with the brahmastra.”

Though his bow flared arrows, Rama said gently, “It is not dharma for us, either, to kill a million rakshasas with the brahmastra. This is an ancient war. It has been fought by vanara and rakshasa on many worlds, in ages gone by and deep among the stars. And it shall be fought again. It is not only for us that the monkeys fight or die; it is for themselves, for their deathless souls. Lakshmana, you cut down his arrows now. Let me test Indrajit with astras that are less terrible than Brahma's, but still fierce.”

But this was total war: of mind, will, and instinct. No sooner did Rama say this, than Indrajit sensed his intention and vanished from over the field. He flew back to Lanka, with a cowardly plan forming in his violent heart.

 

29. Vile deception

Indrajit did not leave the battlefield for long. Briefly, he stood on the ramparts of his father's palace, glowering out at the fighting beyond the walls of Lanka. He wept for his rakshasas whom Rama and Lakshmana had killed. If he had cut down ten thousand vanaras, the kshatriyas had killed twice as many demons. Indrajit was furious that this puny enemy had proved so indomitable. He fumed at their resilience. The rakshasa prince knew that all wars are won or lost in the minds of the generals; and the spirit of Rama of Ayodhya was immaculate.

Rama seemed invulnerable to weapons of fire and serpentine evil. But Indrajit had a plan by which he would carve the kshatriya's heart without breaking his skin. A master mayavi, Indrajit conjured up a lifelike, breathing Sita of maya beside him; with her in his chariot, he went to battle once more. Hanuman now led the storming vanaras. When they saw Indrajit ride out again, the soldiers of the jungle seized up rocks and trees to use against him.

But before they could begin their attack, Hanuman cried that they should not cast a stone or a twig at the young rakshasa. Hanuman saw that Indrajit had brought Sita out onto the field; the vanara stood very still, his hackles raised, growling. A hush fell on the war. Hanuman saw Sita wore a soiled yellow garment, just as she had in the asokavana. Her ruined plait hung limp behind her, and her face was streaked with dirt and tears. The vanaras froze when Indrajit brought the maya Sita onto the field. She was entirely lifelike, and she sobbed as if her heart was broken.

His fangs bared in a grin, Indrajit held Sita by her hair. Between the two armies, he began to fondle her. She struggled, she screamed, but Indrajit slapped her face. Hanuman sprang forward with a roar. In a flash, Indrajit drew his sword. The demon saw the hot tears in the vanara's eyes.

Hanuman cried, “Dare you touch the Devi? Vile rakshasa, you will die!”

But Indrajit cried back, “She is the cause of all this misery. She came as death to Lanka. When I kill her, my revenge will begin for every rakshasa who has lost his life here. After she is dead I will kill the rest of you, and somehow I think it will be easy. Don't preach dharma to me, vanara. Thousands of our women and children died when your monkeys set fire to our city as we slept.”

Hanuman started forward again, but Indrajit was quicker than he was. With a blinding thrust, he buried his sword in Sita's breast; gasping, she sank down in the chariot. There was a moment of perfect shock, when Indrajit killed his maya Sita between the two armies. Hanuman and the vanaras stood turned to stone.

Gleefully, Indrajit called, “Come and see what I have done to your master's wife! Monkey, you crossed the ocean for nothing; all your trials have been in vain.”

Panic, like a wave of death, flared through the vanaras. Their cause betrayed, all their valor so pointless now, the unnerved monkeys fled shrieking in every direction. The rakshasas chased them and cut them down easily. Hanuman grew gigantic again. Roaring dreadfully, he slaughtered the advancing demons. He trampled on them like insects. Bending down, he swept away whole phalanxes with a blow. Berserk with grief, the son of the wind ran amok among Indrajit's army. He was at them like Yama and the rakshasas fled.

But as soon as they ran, Hanuman grew dispirited. He turned to his jungle warriors. He sighed deeply; tears stood in his eyes. He said, “Sita is dead and I do not know if we should fight on. Come, vanaras, come away to Rama and Sugriva. Let us take them the news, and let them tell us what to do next.”

Heads bent, the vanaras went back to Rama. Seeing them go, with a triumphant smile Indrajit turned his chariot back to his father's palace. At his feet, the body of the phantom Sita had dissolved into the stuff of dreams of which it had been made.

 

30. The yagna at Nikumbhila

Indrajit believed in the power of yagnas as much as he did in his own valor. He went directly to a tapovana called Nikumbhila. In that sacred grove he kindled another fire. He sat before it, his body bare and his demons around him. He fed the fire with ghee that had been purified with mantras. Like a fierce priest he was, absorbed in his sacrifice: a flame himself, and his ritual precise and flawless. He offered havis, and the agni blazed like a fragment of the sun.

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Meanwhile, back on the battlefield, Rama heard the outcry from Hanuman's warriors. He sent Jambavan and another force of monkeys to the son of the wind. The battle around the western gate had been abandoned and Hanuman had just turned back when Jambavan came lumbering up to him. Jambavan saw tears streaming down the vanara's face. Barely pausing to greet the reeksha, Hanuman said, “I must see Rama.”

The last rakshasa had fled into the city, and the massive gates clanged shut behind them. Hanuman came with Jambavan to where Rama and Sugriva sat. Bracing himself, the vanara wiped his eyes, and said as bravely as he could, “There is terrible news, my lords.”

Then he looked into Rama's face and could not go on. Sugriva cried, “What is it? What is your news, Hanuman?”

Choking, Hanuman said, “Indrajit brought Sita to the field in his chariot. Before my eyes, he killed her with his sword.”

Rama collapsed as if he had been cut down with an ax. The vanaras rushed to him. They sprinkled water on his face while Lakshmana held his brother's head in his lap. The dazed Lakshmana whispered, “Dharma is of no use in this world. My brother has been a savior to the munis of the forests. He killed thousands of rakshasas, so the holy ones could live in peace. But his dharma has not saved him from evil.

“And that monster Ravana still lives in his palace.”

Lakshmana's handsome features twitched in a dark rictus. He cried, “Gentleness and dharma are of no use in this world. But I swear Ravana will not live another day, and his city will be ashes when I have finished with it. Rama, rouse yourself; the hour of revenge is upon us. Sita may be dead, but Ravana will not escape with his life.”

Rama lay unmoving. Then Vibheeshana came up to them; when he saw Rama unconscious, he wanted to know what had happened. Lakshmana sobbed, “Indrajit murdered Sita on the battlefield.”

Looking doubtful, Vibheeshana asked, “Who brought this news?”

“Hanuman.”

Still, the good rakshasa was unperturbed. “I know how much Ravana loves Sita. He would never let her be killed. But then…” He grew thoughtful. The vanaras and Lakshmana hung on his every word, and now on his silence. Suddenly Vibheeshana gave a cry. “Rouse yourselves, monkeys, hurry! We must fly to Nikumbhila. Indrajit created a maya Sita and killed her on the field to shock you. As you grieve over a death that has never been, my spies have brought word that Indrajit has lit a fire at Nikumbhila. At this moment he sits at a yagna that will make him invincible. We must stop him, or the war is lost!”

Rama's eyes fluttered open; he asked for water. He sat up and sobbed when he remembered Hanuman's news. But Vibheeshana said, “Sita is not dead. Indrajit made a maya Sita and killed her, so he could gain time for his yagna. Ravana loves Sita too much to let a hair of her head be harmed. Indrajit would die if he dared touch her.”

Rama smiled wanly. Vibheeshana hurried on, “There is not a moment to lose. Indrajit already has Brahma's astra and the horses the Pitamaha gave him. If he completes the yagna at Nikumbhila, he will have invincibility as well. Then not you, Rama, or Lakshmana will be able to kill him, and everything will be lost. Give me an army of vanaras. Lakshmana, come with me. Indrajit is the key to this war; only he stands between us and victory. He must die, and my heart insists that Lakshmana will be the one to kill him.”

Rama said quietly, “Lakshmana, go with Vibheeshana. Kill Indrajit and bring us victory. My brother, this is the battle you have prepared for all your life. But be careful; remember your enemy is a master of maya. Go with my blessing, sweet prince, your triumph at Nikumbhila will win this war for us.”

 

31. Ambush

Lakshmana picked up his bow. He put on his armor and took the padadhuli from Rama's feet. His moment of destiny had arrived. He said, “Bless me, Rama, who are my brother and my God. Let my arrows drink Indrajit's blood.”

Rama laid his palm on his brother's head. Lakshmana embraced him tenderly; then he followed Vibheeshana and the vanaras toward Nikumbhila. Jambavan went with them, with a hundred great bears who had crossed the ocean into Lanka.

Swiftly, stealthily, they arrived in Nikumbhila. They heard the yagna fire crackling; they heard Indrajit chanting mantras of power. All else was silence. Vibheeshana said, “We must attack them before it is too late. The vanaras must take the rakshasas unawares. When Indrajit comes out in anger, let him find Lakshmana waiting for him.”

Rising out of the jungle around the yagna, armed with rocks and trees, the monkeys attacked Indrajit's demons. Savagely came the vanaras, and in a moment a hundred rakshasas lay dead, their heads crushed with wild weapons. The demons seized up their swords and fought back, and the yagnashala turned into a battlefield. Blood splashed everywhere; hewn-off limbs flew at bizarre trajectories, and Indrajit's solemn chanting was drowned by the roars of monkey and demon. More deafening than these were the roars of Jambavan's bears, who flew at the rakshasas in a black storm; their fangs and claws were death's lightning.

His sacrifice ruined, Indrajit jumped up with a cry. Red-eyed, he stalked out from the yagnashala, and that prince was terrible, even to look at.

Vibheeshana said to Lakshmana, “He is beside himself with anger; you have the advantage.”

Hanuman, who had come along for the battle, had grown huge again. He pulled up a knotted tree for his weapon and battered the rakshasas to a pulp before they could run from him. Growling to see the son of the wind, Indrajit sprang at him. But then Lakshmana pulled on his bowstring. He stood behind the great old nyagrodha tree under which the yagna fire still burned, neglected. The forest echoed with that sound. Turning away from Hanuman with a snarl, Indrajit faced Lakshmana.