He hurried down the steps of the tower, returned to his chamber, and prepared himself for the battle. He had a ritual bath and performed special prayers to gain the benediction of Shiva; donned his battle dress, matchless armour, armlets, and crowns. He had on a protective armour for every inch of his body. He girt his sword-belt and attached to his body his accoutrements for protection and decoration.

When he emerged from his chamber, his heroic appearance was breathtaking. He summoned his chariot, which could be drawn by horses or move on its own if the horses were hurt or killed. People stood aside when he came out of the palace and entered his chariot. “This is my resolve,” he said to himself: “Either that woman Sita, or my wife Mandodari, will soon have cause to cry and roll in the dust in grief. Surely, before this day is done, one of them will be a widow.”

 
The gods in heaven noticed Ravana’s determined move and felt that Rama would need all the support they could muster. They requested Indra to send down his special chariot for Rama’s use. When the chariot appeared at his camp, Rama was deeply impressed with the magnitude and brilliance of the vehicle. “How has this come to be here?” he asked.

“Sir,” the charioteer answered, “my name is Matali. I have the honour of being the charioteer of Indra. Brahma, the four-faced god and the creator of the Universe, and Shiva, whose power has emboldened Ravana now to challenge you, have commanded me to bring it here for your use. It can fly swifter than air over all obstacles, over any mountain, sea, or sky, and will help you to emerge victorious in this battle.”

Rama reflected aloud, “It may be that the rakshasas have created this illusion for me. It may be a trap. I don’t know how to view it.” Whereupon Matali spoke convincingly to dispel the doubt in Rama’s mind. Rama, still hesitant, though partially convinced, looked at Hanuman and Lakshmana and asked, “What do you think of it?” Both answered, “We feel no doubt that this chariot is Indra’s; it is not an illusory creation.”

Rama fastened his sword, slung two quivers full of rare arrows over his shoulders, and climbed into the chariot.

The beat of war drums, the challenging cries of soldiers, the trumpets, and the rolling chariots speeding along to confront each other, created a deafening mixture of noise. While Ravana had instructed his charioteer to speed ahead, Rama very gently ordered his chariot-driver, “Ravana is in a rage; let him perform all the antics he desires and exhaust himself. Until then be calm; we don’t have to hurry forward. Move slowly and calmly, and you must strictly follow my instructions; I will tell you when to drive faster.”

Ravana’s assistant and one of his staunchest supporters, Mahodara—the giant among giants in his physical appearance—begged Ravana, “Let me not be a mere spectator when you confront Rama. Let me have the honour of grappling with him. Permit me to attack Rama.”

“Rama is my sole concern,” Ravana replied. “If you wish to engage yourself in a fight, you may fight his brother Lakshmana.”

Noticing Mahodara’s purpose, Rama steered his chariot across his path in order to prevent Mahodara from reaching Lakshmana. Whereupon Mahodara ordered his chariot-driver, “Now dash straight ahead, directly into Rama’s chariot.”

The charioteer, more practical-minded, advised him, “I would not go near Rama. Let us keep away.” But Mahodara, obstinate and intoxicated with war fever, made straight for Rama. He wanted to have the honour of a direct encounter with Rama himself in spite of Ravana’s advice; and for this honour he paid a heavy price, as it was a moment’s work for Rama to destroy him, and leave him lifeless and shapeless on the field. Noticing this, Ravana’s anger mounted further. He commanded his driver, “You will not slacken now. Go.” Many ominous signs were seen now—his bow-strings suddenly snapped; the mountains shook; thunders rumbled in the skies; tears flowed from the horses’ eyes; elephants with decorated foreheads moved along dejectedly. Ravana, noticing them, hesitated only for a second, saying, “I don’t care. This mere mortal Rama is of no account, and these omens do not concern me at all.” Meanwhile, Rama paused for a moment to consider his next step; and suddenly turned towards the armies supporting Ravana, which stretched away to the horizon, and destroyed them. He felt that this might be one way of saving Ravana. With his armies gone, it was possible that Ravana might have a change of heart. But it had only the effect of spurring Ravana on; he plunged forward and kept coming nearer Rama and his own doom.

Rama’s army cleared and made way for Ravana’s chariot, unable to stand the force of his approach. Ravana blew his conch and its shrill challenge reverberated through space. Following it another conch, called “Panchajanya,” which belonged to Mahavishnu (Rama’s original form before his present incarnation), sounded of its own accord in answer to the challenge, agitating the universe with its vibrations. And then Matali picked up another conch, which was Indra’s, and blew it. This was the signal indicating the commencement of the actual battle. Presently Ravana sent a shower of arrows on Rama; and Rama’s followers, unable to bear the sight of his body being studded with arrows, averted their heads. Then the chariot horses of Ravana and Rama glared at each other in hostility, and the flags topping the chariots—Ravana’s ensign of the Veena and Rama’s with the whole universe on it—clashed, and one heard the stringing and twanging of bow-strings on both sides, overpowering in volume all other sound. Then followed a shower of arrows from Rama’s own bow. Ravana stood gazing at the chariot sent by lndra and swore, “These gods, instead of supporting me, have gone to the support of this petty human being. I will teach them a lesson. He is not fit to be killed with my arrows but I shall seize him and his chariot together and fling them into high heaven and dash them to destruction.” Despite his oath, he still strung his bow and sent a shower of arrows at Rama, raining in thousands, but they were all invariably shattered and neutralized by the arrows from Rama’s bow, which met arrow for arrow. Ultimately Ravana, instead of using one bow, used ten with his twenty arms, multiplying his attack tenfold; but Rama stood unhurt.

Ravana suddenly realized that he should change his tactics and ordered his charioteer to fly the chariot up in the skies. From there he attacked and destroyed a great many of the monkey army supporting Rama. Rama ordered Matali, “Go up in the air. Our young soldiers are being attacked from the sky. Follow Ravana, and don’t slacken.”

There followed an aerial pursuit at dizzying speed across the dome of the sky and rim of the earth. Ravana’s arrows came down like rain; he was bent upon destroying everything in the world. But Rama’s arrows diverted, broke, or neutralized Ravana’s. Terror-stricken, the gods watched this pursuit. Presently Ravana’s arrows struck Rama’s horses and pierced the heart of Matali himself. The charioteer fell. Rama paused for a while in grief, undecided as to his next step. Then he recovered and resumed his offensive. At that moment the divine eagle Garuda was seen perched on Rama’s flagpost, and the gods who were watching felt that this could be an auspicious sign.

After circling the globe several times, the duelling chariots returned, and the fight continued over Lanka. It was impossible to be very clear about the location of the battleground as the fight occurred here, there, and everywhere. Rama’s arrows pierced Ravana’s armour and made him wince. Ravana was so insensible to pain and impervious to attack that for him to wince was a good sign, and the gods hoped that this was a turn for the better. But at this moment, Ravana suddenly changed his tactics. Instead of merely shooting his arrows, which were powerful in themselves, he also invoked several supernatural forces to create strange effects: He was an adept in the use of various asthras which could be made dynamic with special incantations. At this point, the fight became one of attack with supernatural powers, and parrying of such an attack with other supernatural powers.

Ravana realized that the mere aiming of shafts with ten or twenty of his arms would be of no avail because the mortal whom he had so contemptuously thought of destroying with a slight effort was proving formidable, and his arrows were beginning to pierce and cause pain. Among the asthras sent by Ravana was one called “Danda,” a special gift from Shiva, capable of pursuing and pulverizing its target. When it came flaming along, the gods were struck with fear. But Rama’s arrow neutralized it.

Now Ravana said to himself, “These are all petty weapons. I should really get down to proper business.” And he invoked the one called “Maya”—a weapon which created illusions and confused the enemy.

With proper incantations and worship, he sent off this weapon and it created an illusion of reviving all the armies and its leaders—Kumbakarna and Indrajit and the others—and bringing them back to the battlefield. Presently Rama found all those who, he thought, were no more, coming on with battle cries and surrounding him. Every man in the enemy’s army was again up in arms. They seemed to fall on Rama with victorious cries. This was very confusing and Rama asked Matali, whom he had by now revived, “What is happening now? How are all these coming back? They were dead.” Matali explained, “In your original identity you are the creator of illusions in this universe. Please know that Ravana has created phantoms to confuse you. If you make up your mind, you can dispel them immediately.” Matali’s explanation was a great help. Rama at once invoked a weapon called “Gnana”—which means “wisdom” or “perception.” This was a very rare weapon, and he sent it forth. And all the terrifying armies who seemed to have come on in such a great mass suddenly evaporated into thin air.

Ravana then shot an asthra called “Thama,” whose nature was to create total darkness in all the worlds. The arrows came with heads exposing frightening eyes and fangs, and fiery tongues. End to end the earth was enveloped in total darkness and the whole of creation was paralysed. This asthra also created a deluge of rain on one side, a rain of stones on the other, a hail-storm showering down intermittently, and a tornado sweeping the earth. Ravana was sure that this would arrest Rama’s enterprise. But Rama was able to meet it with what was named “Shivasthra.” He understood the nature of the phenomenon and the cause of it and chose the appropriate asthra for counteracting it.

Ravana now shot off what he considered his deadliest weapon—a trident endowed with extraordinary destructive power, once gifted to Ravana by the gods. When it started on its journey there was real panic all round. It came on flaming toward Rama, its speed or course unaffected by the arrows he flung at it.

When Rama noticed his arrows falling down ineffectively while the trident sailed towards him, for a moment he lost heart. When it came quite near, he uttered a certain mantra from the depth of his being and while he was breathing out that incantation, an esoteric syllable in perfect timing, the trident collapsed. Ravana, who had been so certain of vanquishing Rama with his trident, was astonished to see it fall down within an inch of him, and for a minute wondered if his adversary might not after all be a divine being although he looked like a mortal. Ravana thought to himself, “This is, perhaps, the highest God. Who could he be? Not Shiva, for Shiva is my supporter; he could not be Brahma, who is four faced; could not be Vishnu, because of my immunity from the weapons of the whole trinity. Perhaps this man is the primordial being, the cause behind the whole universe. But whoever he may be, I will not stop my fight until I defeat and crush him or at least take him prisoner.”

With this resolve, Ravana next sent a weapon which issued forth monstrous serpents vomiting fire and venom, with enormous fangs and red eyes. They came darting in from all directions.

Rama now selected an asthra called “Garuda” (which meant “eagle”). Very soon thousands of eagles were aloft, and they picked off the serpents with their claws and beaks and destroyed them. Seeing this also fail, Ravana’s anger was roused to a mad pitch and he blindly emptied a quiverful of arrows in Rama’s direction. Rama’s arrows met them half way and turned them round so that they went back and their sharp points embedded themselves in Ravana’s own chest.

Ravana was weakening in spirit. He realized that he was at the end of his resources. All his learning and equipment in weaponry were of no avail and he had practically come to the end of his special gifts of destruction. While he was going down thus, Rama’s own spirit was soaring up. The combatants were now near enough to grapple with each other and Rama realized that this was the best moment to cut off Ravana’s heads. He sent a crescent-shaped arrow which sliced off one of Ravana’s heads and flung it far into the sea, and this process continued; but every time a head was cut off, Ravana had the benediction of having another one grown in its place. Rama’s crescent-shaped weapon was continuously busy as Ravana’s heads kept cropping up. Rama lopped off his arms but they grew again and every lopped-off arm hit Matali and the chariot and tried to cause destruction by itself, and the tongue in a new head wagged, uttered challenges, and cursed Rama. On the cast-off heads of Ravana devils and minor demons, who had all along been in terror of Ravana and had obeyed and pleased him, executed a dance of death and feasted on the flesh.

Ravana was now desperate. Rama’s arrows embedded themselves in a hundred places on his body and weakened him. Presently he collapsed in a faint on the floor of his chariot. Noticing his state, his charioteer pulled back and drew the chariot aside. Matali whispered to Rama, “This is the time to finish off that demon. He is in a faint. Go on. Go on.”

But Rama put away his bow and said, “It is not fair warfare to attack a man who is in a faint. I will wait. Let him recover,” and waited.

When Ravana revived, he was angry with his charioteer for withdrawing, and took out his sword, crying, “You have disgraced me. Those who look on will think I have retreated.” But his charioteer explained how Rama suspended the fight and forebore to attack when he was in a faint. Somehow, Ravana appreciated his explanation and patted his back and resumed his attacks. Having exhausted his special weapons, in desperation Ravana began to throw on Rama all sorts of things such as staves, cast-iron balls, heavy rocks, and oddments he could lay hands on. None of them touched Rama, but glanced off and fell ineffectually. Rama went on shooting his arrows. There seemed to be no end of this struggle in sight.

Now Rama had to pause to consider what final measure he should take to bring this campaign to an end. After much thought, he decided to use “Brahmasthra,” a weapon specially designed by the Creator Brahma on a former occasion, when he had to provide one for Shiva to destroy Tripura, the old monster who assumed the forms of flying mountains and settled down on habitations and cities, seeking to destroy the world. The Brahmasthra was a special gift to be used only when all other means had failed. Now Rama, with prayers and worship, invoked its fullest power and sent it in Ravana’s direction, aiming at his heart rather than his head; Ravana being vulnerable at heart. While he had prayed for indestructibility of his several heads and arms, he had forgotten to strengthen his heart, where the Brahmasthra entered and ended his career.

Rama watched him fall headlong from his chariot face down onto the earth, and that was the end of the great campaign. Now one noticed Ravana’s face aglow with a new quality. Rama’s arrows had burnt off the layers of dross, the anger, conceit, cruelty, lust, and egotism which had encrusted his real self, and now his personality came through in its pristine form—of one who was devout and capable of tremendous attainments. His constant meditation on Rama, although as an adversary, now seemed to bear fruit, as his face shone with serenity and peace. Rama noticed it from his chariot above and commanded Matali, “Set me down on the ground.” When the chariot descended and came to rest on its wheels, Rama got down and commanded Matali, “I am grateful for your services to me. You may now take the chariot back to Indra.”

Surrounded by his brother Lakshmana and Hanuman and all his other war chiefs, Rama approached Ravana’s body, and stood gazing on it. He noted his crowns and jewellery scattered piecemeal on the ground. The decorations and the extraordinary workmanship of the armour on his chest were blood-covered. Rama sighed as if to say, “What might he not have achieved but for the evil stirring within him!”

At this moment, as they readjusted Ravana’s blood-stained body, Rama noticed to his great shock a scar on Ravana’s back and said with a smile, “Perhaps this is not an episode of glory for me as I seem to have killed an enemy who was turning his back and retreating. Perhaps I was wrong in shooting the Brahmasthra into him.” He looked so concerned at this supposed lapse on his part that Vibishana, Ravana’s brother, came forward to explain. “What you have achieved is unique. I say so although it meant the death of my brother.”

“But I have attacked a man who had turned his back,” Rama said. “See that scar.”

Vibishana explained, “It is an old scar. In ancient days, when he paraded his strength around the globe, once he tried to attack the divine elephants that guard the four directions. When he tried to catch them, he was gored in the back by one of the tuskers and that is the scar you see now; it is not a fresh one though fresh blood is flowing on it.”

Rama accepted the explanation. “Honour him and cherish his memory so that his spirit may go to heaven, where he has his place. And now I will leave you to attend to his funeral arrangements, befitting his grandeur.”