Rama, observing the ominous signs around him, addressed Lakshmana with measured gravity:
“O Lakshmana, the omens foretell the nearing doom of the demonic forces. The five elements react in unison—a celestial warning of the extinction of destructive powers. Unnatural thunders echo, and the heavens are painted with hues unseen before. The sky swirls with ominous clouds, and crimson rain descends, a harbinger of devastation.
Look at the birds, Lakshmana; their cries are filled with fear, portending immediate peril. My hands tremble, a sign that victory is near, and the enemies shall fall. Your face shines with vibrancy, a mark of one untroubled by doubt—such brightness is the visage of triumph. Conversely, those shrouded in anxiety are destined for defeat.
Lakshmana, hear the tumult—the chaotic war cries of the demons and the relentless pounding of their drums. A colossal battle is upon us. Knowing the danger, we must act decisively. Take your bow and arrows, escort Sita to the safety of the hidden caves, and guard her. Swear to me that you will protect her, for I alone will face these demons. Waste no time, for hesitation is a fault in war.
You are brave, strong, and strategic, Lakshmana, capable of vanquishing any foe. Yet, this task is mine alone. Obey my command and ensure Sita’s safety.”
Lakshmana, armed and resolute, departed with Sita to the secluded caves, veiled from the prying eyes of the demon forces. Only after their safe retreat did Rama breathe with resolve. Clad in his radiant armor, gleaming like a celestial flame, he took up his bow. Twanging it with a thunderous resonance, he sent ripples of dread through the demon ranks.
Divine sages, celestial beings, and ascetic warriors watched intently, their prayers and blessings enveloping Rama. Yet a shadow of apprehension clouded their hearts. Rama stood alone, opposed by an army fourteen thousand strong, bloodthirsty and ferocious. But their faith in dharma reassured them, for righteousness had the power to overcome multitudes.
Rama, fully armed and exuding an aura brighter than the sun, assumed his warrior’s stance. His fury mirrored the wrathful form of Rudra, poised to annihilate. The cacophony of the demon forces grew louder—chariots thundered, warriors roared like lions, trumpets blared, and drums beat wildly. The battlefield trembled, and even animals fled in terror.
The demon army surged like a turbulent ocean, bearing weapons of every kind. Yet Rama, known for his tactical brilliance, observed their movements with keen precision. He discerned the strength of their commander Kharas’ forces, their weaponry, and their flawed strategies. Their preparation was hasty and careless, marked by overconfidence and a lack of foresight.
Drawing an arrow from his quiver, Rama placed it upon his bow with steady hands. His anger, focused and righteous, burned against the chaos before him. He appeared as Rudra himself, wielding the divine Pinaka bow against Daksha’s forces in times of yore.
The assembled demons glittered with their armaments, yet their uncoordinated advance betrayed their recklessness. In contrast, Rama stood as a paragon of virtue and discipline, embodying the invincible power of dharma.
The battlefield became a stage for the clash of two extremes: the thoughtless violence of the demons versus Rama’s unwavering commitment to protect the ascetics and uphold righteousness. Though Rama bore no personal enmity towards the demons, he fought to safeguard the innocent. Similarly, the demons harbored no grudge against Rama, their ire merely stoked by vengeance for fallen kin.
Two opposing paths, two distinct purposes, converged in a singular act of war. All eyes, mortal and divine, fixed upon the unfolding fate, a testament to the triumph of dharma over chaos.”
