Aranya Kanda
Narration
Ravana, hearing these words of Sita, the mighty ten-headed one struck one hand upon the other and made his body very large.
He was skilled in the art of speaking.
He then began to address Princess Sita of Mithila in this way:
“In my view, you have gone mad.
That is why you have ignored my strength and my valor.
Look here – standing in the sky I can lift up this whole earth with these two arms.
I can drink up the ocean.
Standing firm in battle, I can even strike down Death himself.
If I wish, with my sharp arrows I can torment even the sun and tear this earth apart.
I am able to assume whatever form I desire.
Look at me!”
Saying this again and again, the eyes of Ravana—filled with anger, with the corners black and the pupils blazing—became red like burning fire.
Kubera’s younger brother Ravana at once gave up his charming form and took on his own natural form, fierce and terrible like Time itself.
After a little while, all the eyes of the illustrious Ravana were glowing red.
He was adorned with solid gold ornaments, and overwhelmed by great rage he looked black like a dark rain cloud.
That great, gigantic night-wanderer, leaving aside his disguised form as a wandering ascetic, now stood there with ten faces and twenty arms.
At that time, the king of the Rakshasas, Ravana, having assumed his true form and wearing red garments, stood facing Sita, the jewel among women.
Dark-haired Maithili, adorned with clothes and ornaments, looked as radiant as the sun.
Ravana said to her:
“O fair one, if you wish to choose as your husband a man famed in all the three worlds, then take refuge in me.
I alone consider myself worthy of you.
O noble lady, accept me for a long time to come.
I will be a loving and praiseworthy husband for you, and I will never behave in any way contrary to your mind.
Give up this attachment you have to the human Rama, and love me instead.
You foolish woman, who consider yourself learned and intelligent!
That Rama, whose kingdom has been spoiled, whose wish has not been fulfilled, and whose lifespan is limited—tell me, by what qualities in him are you so attached?
On the mere words of a woman he abandoned his whole kingdom along with his friends and relatives, and came to dwell in this forest filled with ferocious creatures.
What a ruined intellect he has—he is utterly foolish!”
Sita, princess of Mithila, who was always worthy of hearing pleasing words and herself spoke the most loving words, had to listen to these harsh, unpleasant words from Ravana, who was deluded by lust and extremely wicked.
Then that Rakshasa, overcome by desire, went near and seized Sita, who deserved to be honored like a mother.
It was as if the planet Budha (Mercury) had dared to seize his mother Rohini in the sky.
With his left hand he grabbed lotus-eyed Sita’s head along with her hair, and with his right hand he placed his arm beneath her thighs and lifted her up.
At that moment, seeing that terrible Rakshasa, with sharp fangs, huge arms, and a body like a mountain peak, fierce like Death himself, all the woodland deities became frightened and fled.
Just then, Ravana’s vast, golden, magically created divine chariot appeared there, yoked with donkeys and making braying sounds like donkeys themselves.
As soon as the chariot appeared, Ravana, roaring loudly, scolded Sita, the daughter of Videha, with harsh words, and then lifted her on his lap as before and quickly seated her on the chariot.
Seized by Ravana, helpless Sita was overcome with grief.
She began to cry out loudly in the forest, calling again and again, “O Rama!” to Sri Ramachandra, who had gone far away.
Sita had no desire at all for Ravana.
She was completely detached from him and, like a snake wounded and caught, she writhed and struggled on that chariot, trying to free herself from his captivity.
In that same condition, the lust-driven Rakshasa carried her off and rose up into the sky.
When the king of Rakshasas began to carry Sita away along the aerial path, her mind became confused.
She grew almost mad and, tormented by sorrow, started wailing loudly:
“O mighty-armed Lakshmana, you who always delight the hearts of the elders!
At this very moment, a Rakshasa who can assume any form at will is carrying me off, but you do not know of it.
O descendant of Raghu, you gave up your life’s pleasures, your bodily comfort, and all royal splendor for the sake of righteousness.
Now this Rakshasa is carrying me away unrighteously, but you do not see it.
O noble prince, you who punish evil men walking on the wrong path and bring them back to the right way—
why then do you not punish this sinful Ravana?
The fruit of the insolent deeds of an insolent man does not show itself at once,
for Time also works as a cooperating cause in it,
just as a crop requires its proper season to ripen.
Ravana! On your head, Time itself is dancing.
It has destroyed your power of discrimination.
That is why you have performed this sinful act.
May such a terrible calamity come upon you from Sri Rama, one that will bring about the end of your life!
Now, I too have attained success in my wish, along with my relatives—
for as the renowned, righteous wife of Sri Rama, who always longs for righteousness, I am being carried away by a Rakshasa.”
Then Sita prayed:
“I bow to these oleander (kaner) trees blooming by the waterside.
You all must quickly tell Sri Rama, ‘Ravana is carrying Sita away!’
I bow to the river Godavari, resounding with the cries of swans and cranes.
O mother, you quickly tell Sri Rama that Ravana is carrying Sita away.
I bow to all the deities who dwell upon the various trees of this forest.
All of you quickly inform my lord that his wife has been carried off by a Rakshasa.
And all you creatures—animals, birds, and other beings living here in many forms—
I take refuge in you all.
Tell my lord Sri Ramachandra: ‘She who was dearer to you than your own life—Sita—has been carried away.
Your Sita, helpless and unprotected, has been taken by Ravana.’
Mighty Sri Rama is very strong.
Even if I were carried away to the other world, if he comes to know, he would, by his valor, bring me back even from Yama himself who had abducted me.”
After some time, overwhelmed with sorrow, having uttered these pitiable words of lament, wide-eyed Sita saw King Jatayu, perched upon a tree.
Fallen into the power of Ravana, beautiful Sita was extremely afraid.
Seeing Jatayu, she began to speak in a grief-stricken, heart-rending voice:
“O noble Jatayu, look! This sinful king of Rakshasas is ruthlessly carrying me away, a helpless woman.
But you cannot stop this cruel night-wanderer, for he is very powerful.
Having won many battles, his arrogance has grown.
He has weapons in his hands, and his mind is full of wickedness.
O noble Jatayu, the way I am being abducted, please tell all this in full detail to Sri Rama and Lakshmana.”
Thus ends the forty-ninth sarga in the Aranya Kanda of the sacred Ramayana composed by the sage Valmiki.
The fiftieth sarga: Jatayu tries to dissuade Ravana from the sinful act of abducting Sita and finally challenges him to battle.
Jatayu was asleep at that time.
In that state he heard Sita’s sorrowful cries.
As soon as he heard them, he opened his eyes and saw Sita, daughter of Videha, and Ravana.
The illustrious Jatayu, best among birds, had a body tall like a mountain peak and a very sharp beak.
Sitting on the tree itself, he addressed Ravana with these auspicious words:
“O ten-headed Ravana, I am an old vulture established in the ancient, eternal dharma, truthful in my vows, and very powerful.
My name is Jatayu, my friend.
Standing before me like this, you should not commit such a blameworthy act.
Dasaratha’s son Sri Ramachandra is lord of all beings, as powerful as Indra and Varuna, and always engaged in the welfare of all.
This lady of beautiful form is his righteous wife.
Her name is Sita, and you are trying to carry her away.
How can any king who is established in his own dharma even touch another man’s wife?
O mighty Ravana, kings ought especially to protect the wives of other kings.
Cast away from yourself that low condition which comes from touching another’s wife.
A firm and wise man does not do any act for which other people will reproach him.
Just as a man carefully protects his own wife from the touch of other men,
in the same way, the wives of others too should be protected.
O ornament of your clan, when some form of duty, wealth, or pleasure is not spoken of in the scriptures,
then ordinary men begin to follow only what they see the king doing.
Therefore, a king should not engage in deceitful or un-scriptural actions.
The king is the promoter of dharma and kama, and the best treasury of wealth.
So for righteousness, good conduct, or sin, the root cause of people’s conduct is the king himself.
O king of Rakshasas, when your nature is so sinful and you are so fickle, tell me:
how did you obtain these divine aerial chariots of the gods, this prosperity and lordship?
In one whose nature is dominated by lust, his character cannot really be purified,
for in the house of wicked souls, virtue does not dwell even after a long time.
When mighty and righteous Sri Rama has committed no offense in your kingdom or city,
how are you now committing an offense against him?
If in former times that great Rama, who does wonderful deeds, killed some wicked Rakshasa who had attacked without cause to take revenge on the gods,
then tell clearly—what fault is there in Rama for that,
that you now wish to carry off the wife of that Lord of the Universe?
Ravana, quickly release Princess Sita of Videha,
so that Sri Ramachandra, with his fire-like, terrible gaze, may not burn you to ashes,
just as Indra destroyed Vritra.
In the same way Rama’s wrathful glance will scorch you.
You have tied a serpent into the fold of your garment and still do not understand.
You have placed the noose of death around your own neck and still you do not see it.
A wise man should carry only as much load as does not exhaust him,
and should eat only such food as, having entered the stomach, can be digested and does not produce disease.
What man will undertake an act by which no righteousness is gained, no fame increases, no lasting good is obtained,
and instead the body is only put to pain?
Ravana, while properly ruling this kingdom of birds received from my forefathers,
sixty thousand years of my life have now passed from my birth till today.
I have grown old, and you are a young man.
I have no weapons of war, whereas you have bow, armor, arrows, and chariot—everything.
Even so, you will not be able to take Sita safely away.
Before my eyes you will not be able to abduct Princess Sita by force,
just as no one can overturn a Vedic statement proved true by just reasoning and lawful evidence.
Ravana, if you are truly a hero, then fight.
Stay here before me for just a short while.
Then, just as Viradha was killed earlier, so too will you be slain by me and sleep forever.
Those two princes dressed in bark-cloth, who have many times slain demons and Danavas in battle,
that Lord Sri Rama will soon destroy you also on the battlefield.
Right now, what can I really do?
Those two princes have gone very far.
If I go to call them, then you, frightened of them, would at once run away from here and disappear from sight—of that there is no doubt.
This Sita, with eyes like lotus petals and auspicious marks, is the dearly beloved chief queen of Sri Ramachandra.
As long as I live, you will not be able to carry her off.
Even at the cost of my life I must surely perform this dear service to the great soul Sri Rama and to King Dasaratha.
Ten-headed Ravana! Stop, stop!
Stay here just for two moments.
Then you will see how I will throw you down from this excellent chariot to the earth,
just as a fruit falls from its stalk.
O night-wanderer, according to my strength I will give you full hospitality in battle—
I will worship you properly with blows!”
Thus the fiftieth sarga in the Aranya Kanda of the Ramayana composed by sage Valmiki is completed.
The ninety-first sarga: the fierce battle between Jatayu and Ravana, and the slaying of Jatayu by Ravana.
When Jatayu had spoken thus, the king of Rakshasas, Ravana, with eyes reddened in anger and filled with wrath, rushed toward the king of birds.
At that time, the golden earrings in his ears were blazing like heated gold.
Then a terrible exchange of blows began between the two of them in that great battle,
as though two cloud-masses driven by the wind in the sky were crashing against each other.
For some time, a wondrous battle took place between that Rakshasa and that great bird,
as if two winged Malaya mountains had rushed against one another.
Ravana began to shower upon mighty Jatayu the dreadful weapons called Nalika, Naracha, and Vikarni, arrows with sharp iron tips.
But the heroic Jatayu endured the hail of those arrows and other weapons discharged by Ravana,
and at the same time that foremost of birds wounded Ravana’s body with his claws having sharp talons, striking him again and again.
Then the ten-headed Ravana, filling himself with rage and wishing to kill his enemy, took up in his ten hands a bow like the rod of Time itself.
Drawing his bow to the full, that highly valiant Ravana let fly straight, sharp, terrible arrows with barbed heads,
and shredded the body of Jatayu.
Jatayu saw that Sita, the daughter of Janaka, was seated on the Rakshasa’s chariot and tears were flowing from her eyes.
Seeing her, the king of birds paid no attention to the arrows piercing his own body and swiftly rushed upon that Rakshasa.
The mighty Jatayu, full of great energy, struck Ravana’s bejeweled bow—ornamented with pearls and gems—with both his feet and broke it.
Ravana was then filled with fury, and taking up another bow, he rained down hundreds and thousands of arrows.
Soon the whole battlefield around the king of birds was covered with a net of arrows,
and for a while he looked like a bird sitting in a nest.
Then the highly radiant Jatayu swept away those arrows with both his wings,
and again, with blows of his claws, shattered that bow of Ravana into pieces.
Ravana’s armor was blazing like fire.
The mighty king of birds struck that armor with his wings and tore it to shreds.
Thereafter, that powerful hero in battle killed, with his beak and claws, those swift asses with ghastly, goblin-like faces,
whose chests were covered with golden armor.
After that, he smashed Ravana’s great chariot—bright as fire, with wonderful parts, three-tiered, endowed with every ornament, and moving at will.
Then he swiftly struck down the white umbrella shining like the full moon,
and the yak-tail whisks along with the royal attendants who were bearing them.
Next, that mighty, radiant king of birds flew at Ravana’s charioteer and, with a powerful blow of his beak, cut off his huge head from his trunk.
When his bow had been broken, his chariot shattered, his horses killed, and his charioteer sent into the jaws of death,
Ravana fell to the ground, holding Sita in his arms.
Seeing Ravana fallen on the earth with his chariot destroyed, all living beings cried “Well done! Well done!” and praised the king of birds.
But Jatayu, old in age, became weary, and seeing him exhausted, Ravana felt great delight.
Taking Maithili in his arms again, he rose up into the sky.
As Ravana, holding Janaka’s daughter on his lap, was going on joyfully, all his other means of war had been destroyed.
Only a sword still remained with him.
Seeing him departing, the mighty Jatayu flew up and rushed again toward Ravana, stopped him, and said:
“O dull-witted Ravana! You are indeed going only for the sake of the destruction of kings,
for these are the righteous wife of Sri Rama whose arrows strike like thunderbolts.
As a thirsty man drinks water, you are drinking this poison along with your friends, relatives, ministers, army, and family—
thus are you drinking your own ruin.
Just as ignorant people who do not know the result of their deeds are quickly destroyed,
so you too will fall into the pit of destruction.
You have become a toy in the hands of Time.
Where will you go to escape from it?
Just as a fish born in the water swallows a baited hook only for its own death,
in the same way you are abducting Sita only for your own destruction.
Ravana, the glory of the Raghu line, Sri Rama and his brother Lakshmana are both great heroes.
Those two will never forgive this insulting crime you have committed at their hermitage.
You are a coward and a weakling.
You have done a deed condemned by the whole world—
this is the way of thieves.
Brave men do not follow such a path.
Ravana, if you are truly a hero, then stay two moments more and fight with me.
Then you too will fall dead upon the earth, just as your brother Khara fell.
At the time of destruction a man does such deeds as bring about his ruin.
You too, for your own end, have undertaken this unrighteous act.
A man becomes bound to suffer the fruit of sin for such an act as this.
Who would knowingly perform such an action?
Even the guardians of the worlds, like Indra, and Lord Brahma himself, would not do such a deed.
Thus speaking excellent words, the valiant Jatayu leaped with great speed upon the back of the ten-headed Rakshasa,
and clutching him tightly, tore him all around with his sharp claws—
as an elephant-rider seated on a wicked elephant pierces it with a goad.
Claws, wings, and beak—these were Jatayu’s only weapons.
He scratched with his claws, struck Ravana’s back with his beak, and plucked at his hair.
When Jatayu again and again tormented him like this, Ravana trembled.
His lips quivered with rage.
Then Ravana, filled with anger, took Sita in his left arm.
Greatly pained by Jatayu’s attacks, he struck the king of birds with the flat of his hand.
But Jatayu, the subduer of enemies, warded off several of those blows, and then, striking with his beak, tore off all ten of Ravana’s left arms.
As soon as those arms were cut off and fell, others immediately sprang forth in their place,
like blazing serpents suddenly appearing.
Then the powerful ten-headed Ravana put Sita aside,
and, full of wrath, began to beat Jatayu with fists and kicks.
At that time, between those two incomparable heroes—the Rakshasa Ravana and the bird Jatayu—
a fierce battle went on for a long while.
At last, Ravana drew out his sword
and, with that terrible weapon, cut off both wings and the side of Jatayu,
who was fighting for the sake of Sri Ramachandra.
Having had his wings suddenly severed by that terrible Rakshasa,
the mighty Jatayu fell to the earth,
his end now very near.
Seeing Jatayu lying on the ground, bleeding and drenched in blood like his own kinsmen fallen,
Sita, overwhelmed with grief, rushed toward him.
Jatayu’s complexion was dark like a blue cloud;
his chest was white;
he was extremely valiant.
Even so, for a while he lay upon the earth like a fire gone out.
Ravana, lord of Lanka, seeing him fallen in that condition,
again seized Janaka’s daughter Sita and carried her away,
while she once more wept there for some time.
Thus the ninety-first sarga in the Aranya Kanda of the noble Ramayana composed by sage Valmiki is completed.