He forgot that he was the sole cause for the destruction of all his sons. His sorrow turned to anger, as it normally did with him and he decided to kill Sita in truth, and not as a trick, as his son had done, for she was the cause of all this. He forgot the fact that he had no one to blame but himself. It was his cruel and unjust act, which had brought calamity on his whole race, as prophesied by Vibhishan. Tears like liquid fire rolled down his cheeks. Picking up his sword, he rushed out of the palace, determined to kill Sita, who was still devoted to Ram. His ministers and wives rushed after him.
They had seen him angry many times before but that was nothing compared to what they saw now. Like a malefic comet approaching Venus, he flew at Sita with upraised sword. She saw him coming, sword in hand and realised that this time he was not approaching with words of love but with the sword of hate and meant to kill her, as easily as he had professed to love her. How easily swayed are the minds of the wicked! One day they profess love and the next day it changes to hate. Sita was ready to die since she was convinced that Ram had died. Luckily for her, one of Ravan’s ministers who was saner than the rest, approached him and said.
“My Lord! How can you contemplate such a sinful deed! It was bad enough that you abducted her! How can you think of killing her now when she is helpless and at your mercy! Leave this poor, defenseless woman alone and turn your fury against her husband and brother who are the ones who killed your son. Today is the fourteenth day of the dark lunar fortnight. Tomorrow is the night of the new moon, most auspicious for night rangers like us. That is the time for you to march against Ram and after having killed him, you can return victoriously and claim Sita as your own
Luckily for Sita, Ravan seemed to find this advice palatable. He checked his stride and stood for a moment, lost in thought. Then without saying a word to anyone, he turned round and marched to his assembly hall.
The next day he sent his crack regiment of carefully chosen men famed for their valour to the battlefield with orders that they should not return until the Kosala brothers were dead. Armed with all the best weapons of the time, the ill-fated army set out at break of day. The two armies met with a terrible clash and blood flowed like a river. Ram tackled them single-handed as he had done the army at Janasthana.
The army could not be seen due to the shower of arrows which engulfed them. At last Ram took up the weapon called the gandharua, which created a kind of illusion by which many hundreds of Rams could be seen on all sides. Within the period of an hour, he had totally wrecked Ravan’s crack regiment.
There was a loud wail in the whole of Lanka, set up by the wives of the deceased. They blamed Surpanekha for being the sole cause of all their troubles. Every house in Lanka was sunk in sorrow. Those houses from which at one time, only the sound of music and revelry could be heard, were now shuddering with the sounds of moans and sobs.
As Ravan approached his bedroom, the fascinating Mandodari, daughter of Mayan, the maker of illusions, approached him and softly wound her arms round his neck. “My Lord”, she said, “do you have to go for battle tomorrow? Can you not change your mind”?
Gently he put her away from him and said, “My faithful one, you know I have to go, but please believe in me. I will not let you down”.
“You have never let me down, my Lord”, she said. “From the day you married me, you have given me nothing but delight. How can I forget”!
For the last time Ravan climbed up to the ramparts of his castle and sang the Sama hymns in which he was an expert and by singing which he had once pleased Maheswara, the Lord of the world. The whole of nature seemed to be providing an accompaniment for his chants, with the sighing of the wind, the lashing of the waves and the eerie creaking of the trees, as they swayed to and fro, in tune with the rhythm of his song. Ram heard it down below and watched fascinated as Ravan’s mighty figure, silhouetted against the sky, swayed and danced to his own music.
At last with the approach of midnight, amauasya, the night of the new moon, the wind dropped, the waves calmed down and Ravan came down for his final battle.
He ordered the last of his generals to get ready for the battle, for he had decided to go himself and avenge the death of all his loved ones. His divine chariot with the golden banner, equipped with all the latest weapons and drawn by eight, swift horses, gleaming with jewels, was brought to the gate and Ravan leaped into it like a tiger and took the reins himself.
The demon warriors cheered and clapped as he thundered down the street. He chose to take the fifth gate, the gate of illusion and rose up like a black swan into the sky.
Thus ends the sixth Canto called “Indrajit” of the Yuddha Kanda in the glorious Ramyana of the Sage Valmiki.
