Ramayana Read online

  enough to say, the two armies fell in

  like Death-God!

  All roared

  Yaaaaaaaaaaah!

  Or roared

  Huzzaaaaaaaaah!

  Raksassy arrows hungering downhill

  were plugged

  by bear and monkey tree-trunks chucked uphill.

  Rama’s army pierced through flanks

  and leapt or flew over

  the shark-and-serpent infested ice-water moat of the palace.

  Rampart-stationed raksassy

  lunged at the beast coming over the wall.

  At the palace or on the battlegrounds,

  awesome duel overtime.

  As befitting our oriental monkeys

  the sound of fighting with clubs

  was continuous as the rhythm of footsteps:

  tat-thai/tat-thai/tat-thai/tat-thai/tat-thai/tat-thai …

  Each raksassy repeatedly swinging his

  barbed stabbing spear,

  his valayam discus,

  his trident or scimitar

  that met a blocking-it-with-a-rock bear or monkey

  and on they would fight until they fell to fists alone.

  Then both so wounded – one would wither

  and in withering fill his match with hope.

  Blood and tufts of hair were pulled in the final

  wrench

  as body tore neck to neck at body

  for desperate tooth-and-nail life.

  In each incredible duel: hero versus hero.

  Tragic personal outcome only

  for he, whose body so heckled, died fighting

  till his fatal

  final exit

  mood-swinging

  mother-summoning

  breath! For Death’d been knocking at the door

  and already gone!

  Like the battle between the gods and arsooras in the olden days

  the earth was soon slithery, blooded

  by every earthly creature.

  Weapons lay in heaps like flower offerings.

  So many bodies fell by the wayside

  and ran down the river log-like.

  Both sides were feeling smoked.

  Guttural, chesty reverberant roars darkened the scene

  then there were only screams

  weeping

  weird

  joy-hootings …

  Chapter Four: Enter the Vital Invisible

  Raavana’s son, Indrajit, fights with Rama.

  And so on raged the battle.

  Rama’s army soon found

  they had the upper hand

  till Raavana sent his son

  Indrajit into the fray.

  Indrajit could be here and not here.

  Invincible Indrajit could become

  literally invisible!

  When he was invisible

  he was a daddy’s boy

  riot-act!

  Indrajit fired his Nakabat arrow

  that freely knocked about the field:

  one arrow dividing into many and those arrows dividing again:

  from one Nakabat a thousand or so mini-Nakabat

  ballistic spears whooped

  in a deadly dreadnought insouciance!

  Of the millions monkeys back for battle next morning,

  Invisible Indrajit was a Death-God darkening the fields.

  His panther chariot was like the wind off a monsoon.

  Only his twanging was distinct. No

  movement pattern to his skedaddle

  amuck-running twang.

  Rama’s army was a doomsday dance.

  When Indrajit had his monkey-fill,

  he became the glory seeker. He went after Rama.

  Invisible Indrajit

  fired spears at him!

  Rama looked about feckless.

  Rama was: who is firing the arrows?

  From where?

  His dense muscle defence breached –

  he was speared willy-nilly.

  Then Indrajit shot spears into his

  vitals, literally, into his

  groins!!!

  Whilst Rama lay dying, Indrajit unleashed serpent darts.

  Serpents nuzzled into Rama’s flesh.

  Bloodsucker serpents mean you’re out for the count!

  Who wouldn’t be out for the count?

  No wonder Raavana’s army went back to the palace.

  Raavana could be heard partying. Indrajit stole away

  and prayed to the gods.

  Meanwhile, Sugreeva and Vibishana steadied the troops

  as rumour of Rama’s death startled each ear-to-ear.

  Somehow, miraculous Rama awoke!

  Rose; with barely enough focus.

  The serpents were still at him.

  He summoned a mantra.

  A mantra calling for Garuda.

  That mighty eagle and drat nemesis to all serpents

  because he dines on serpents.

  Garuda leapt on Rama’s mantra.

  Garuda sailing through the lands

  then swooping down to beat daintily his beak and fork-claws

  at the serpents.

  With impeccable dining manners he left a clean plate

  and was gone.

  Go Garuda!

  Chapter Five: Feel my Shakti, boy!

  Raavana fights Lakshmana. Hanuman is sent to find a leaf.

  Each morning Rama’s army awoke full-sighting

  Raavana’s palace high up as ever on its thousand pillars

  and bathing its indestructible peaking whites in the first sun.

  Replenished braggart block-work egging Rama on!

  And Raavana, on day three, sniffing glory,

  summoned his chariot and pronto

  at the door could be seen – greased gem caps

  and eight gleaming horses with charioteer.

  From his heavily guarded gate, Raavana went to the field.

  Even though his spies informed him that Rama had survived

  he posed from his chariot. If son could give Rama

  a good licking, with his ten heads in every direction

  them all, all by himself!

  He was pure war glamour. Poster boy.

  Heart-throb soft-focus-shot!

  If only the girls could see him now:

  could sniff his sandalwood.

  Even Rama could only say,

  ‘Raavana is the vision majestic.’

  In plain view

  Raavana picked up and chucked a rock –

  a rock as heavy as a cloud

  that’s made of a comet!

  His rock silenced a flank of monkeys and bears

  that had been roaring towards him!

  Sugreeva pulled back the army

  as Lakshmana jumped in, ‘Come and fight me

  O mighty King!’

  Raavana twanged his bow

  and the enormous notes announced he was ready to fight.

  Lakshmana twanged his bow.

  Then both fell in.

  It was a battle of wondrous arrows.

  Lakshmana repelling Raavana’s arrows.

  Raavana’s arrows slit like snakes with severed bodies

  so they could not fly back to Raavana’s quiver.

  Some fine Lakshmana shooting, or what?

  Said Raavana, as they paused to reload,

  ‘You have been a worthy warrior

  but you must go now to Yama.

  This arrow was made by my father-in-law, Maya,

  for me only. Feel my Shakti, boy!’

  The Shakti-arrow which had seemed to come from nowhere

  save for its eight tolling bells

  was already in

  Lakshmana’s chest.

  Raavana knew Lakshmana was finished

  when he watched

  this image of his own mighty son, Indrajit,

  drop to the ground

  lifeless.

  Hanuman charged to the centre

  hauling
off Lakshmana’s body

  whilst a thousand black monkeys distracted Raavana.

  Poison from the Shakti could not be reversed.

  Lakshmana must die.

  Rama, shocked, openly wept,

  ‘What worth saving dear Sita

  if my brother lies dying? If Sita is my heart,

  brother you are my mind! Where, searching the world,

  would I find another Lakshmana?

  You, whose two hands have powered more arrows

  than thousand-handed

  Kaartaveeryaarjoona.

  O lift up your arms again …’

  Rama left rubbing his brother’s feet.

  Jambavan, the wise bear-king, went to Hanuman,

  ‘Hasty for the mountains go,

  between Kailasa and Rishabh, in the Himalayas,

  is the medicine mountain. From there pluck

  the sacred plant called Visalya.

  Lakshmana might be saved by it.’

  Hanuman, this son of Wind-God, was a natural carrier,

  and knew he’d need to be

  back in a jiffy to save the day.

  He swung his tail till he was outstandingly expanded

  then he charged for the distant mountains.

  Hanuman flew at the speed of Garuda

  and was there plenty quick.

  He saw the mountain peak.

  But it had a killer discus

  whirling speedily

  about it

  protecting the whole peak.

  Besides, Hanuman’s head was chocked

  with the scent

  of a billion balmy-breeze teeming herbs sprigging there.

  He prayed for the first ever time to his

  element father, that father recall son,

  that father make the discus cease.

  And at once, the zooming discus

  came to slowly whirl and slowly

  came to rest upon the peak.

  Hanuman took deep breaths for he knew

  his father, from however afar, was wings for him.

  Hanuman shambled about the peak

  trying to pluck a sprig

  but each time he went to lift the sprig

  the sprig

  seemed to rescind

  itself back into

  stone

  from where it grew against the course of nature.

  Then at once, all sprigs vanished.

  A bare mountain faced Hanuman. Lakshmana will die!

  Hanuman was truly narked now.

  With his cheek-puffing might

  and thunderous muscles

  he lifted

  he lifted

  the whole darn

  mountain-crest!

  The whole darn mountain-crest on a bare palm

  which he flew along a wind stream

  back to the battlefield.

  The two startled armies

  pulled back their wield and watched

  as Hanuman rested the mountain.

  Then he lifted Jambavan atop

  for a gentle bear mantra.

  Soon as Jambavan crooned his single note yodel

  one

  tee

  ny

  l

  e

  a

  f

  between rocks gently peeped out its head.

  The teeny peepy leaf

  was lit like a lotus and beamed upwards

  for those refined

  biscuity paw-tips.

  Jambavan brought the leaf before Lakshmana’s

  nose. The delicate, vulnerable Visalya –

  light as a curl of air

  and transparent save for a whiff of green

  had enough guts to yank back from the deep pit

  nigh-death

  flesh

  bounding

  upwards and alive!

  Lakshmana was given ample shakti

  when his wounds healed and his blood plugged dynamic.

  Chapter Six: Patronisation for cocky shot

  Rama fights Raavana.

  The army tried to pull Rama back

  but he was riled. He stepped forth for Raavana.

  How he must have felt a loathing

  for this vile wife snatcher.

  A snatcher who left the husband in a conundrum

  about how to win back his wife

  and have her

  as she was

  before she was taken …

  Rama looked strained by raw mortal heat

  as though a blood tongue-taste staked him useless.

  Raavana was frisky for war.

  He went about the sky showboating in his chariot

  his long loose hair

  crackled electric thunder

  and fiery sparks

  streamed downwind from his arms.

  Rama seemed to calm, and said to his chariot-driver,

  ‘Raavana is excited.

  Let him perform his dandy antics and tire himself.

  He is trying to ruffle us. Remain sure.’

  Then finally,

  face to face:

  Rama and Raavana.

  Raavana was still admiring the battlefield

  whilst he twanged his bow like a stringed barrel

  raised high in the air in a cocky-boy style.

  Rama held his bow level then twanged to begin battle.

  Their notes rose

  to heaven

  becoming

  a single

  mingling note.

  The gods swooning to the marriaged music.

  Straightaway the two bow-twangers banged out arrows!

  They fought so speedy it was sparks and fire.

  Both heroes swept their bows back into circles

  with each round.

  Anything with less than sporting discipline

  would be repelled!

  Their full-tilt energy combined

  was unfelt on earth before

  and jolted the moon

  causing banks to break and rivers to flood.

  The sea skated upwards and sliced the clouds.

  The battle outcome:

  Raavana, too busy, dreaming of killing

  this saviour of the heavens

  found that

  this saviour had loaded an arrow

  into his chest!

  The arrow had shocked Raavana back into reality

  in such a startling way

  that his crowns had puttered from his heads!

  His bow had popped out of his two main hands.

  Bare-headed.

  Bare-handed.

  Indigent.

  Holy war!

  Rama’s army was roaring! Roaring that now was the time

  to kill this effing fiend!

  Kill him, Rama! Kill him now, Rama!

  Rama lowered his bow and arrows, saying calmly,

  ‘Shabash, Lord Raavana.

  You have been a wonder today.

  Truly, you have earned your kill.

  You must be exhausted from your exhilarations.

  Come back when you have bathed in healing salts.

  I seek combat only at your peak.’

  For the first time in his thousands years

  Raavana felt that gut-burbling feeling of bhaya, fear,

  when he was ridden home paupered by a brawl.

  Chapter Seven: Wakey Wakey Din-Din Time!

  The giant Koombarkana would do anything for his brother, Raavana …

  Vibishana wondered to Rama,

  ‘I’m surprised not yet to see my brother, Koombarkana,

  called to arms.’

  Said Rama, ‘He is the mightiest, no?’

  ‘In battle he has been unbeatable.

  We call him our Oooloo Ballong,

  our champion warrior!

  The raksassy lords owe their might to this or that boon

  but Koombarkana’s might is all his own.

  From birth he was constant bulking muscly

  so he constant nee
ded nourishing.

  As a child he was a gormless gaping maw

  that would scoff banquet-loads for breakfast

  then still feeling famished

  he would sneakily

  swallow arsooras or even raksassy!

  Raw!

  Chief raksassy went to heaven for support.

  To shorten a long story,

  Brahma saved the day by putting Koombarkana to sleep.

  Permanent coma.

  No other way was in his locker

  to tighten the boy’s appetite.

  But after some parental pleading,

  Koombarkana was granted wake-up time

  for one whole day every six months.

  That day is nigh. He dotes on Raavana.’

  ‘Bring out the Oooloo Ballong!