Spiritual(ism)
Then did the divine charioteer Matali, wise and radiant, draw near to Rama—the resplendent scion of the Ikshvaku line, the flame of righteousness—and spoke with earnest urgency: “O Rama, light of the solar race, why dost thou prolong this combat with a dark-minded fiend, whose soul is ignorant and vile, like that of a brute…
The war between virtue and wickedness had reached its awful zenith, and the heavens with all their host looked on in breathless expectancy, eager to behold the verdict of fate. A terror rose from the battlefield like smoke from sacrificial fire—black, blinding, and soaked in wrath. Demon legions, fierce and monstrous, gave rise to horrid…
In the midst of the great war, the venerable sage Agastya, followed by his company of ascetics, beheld the battlefield where fierce combat raged. There, upon the scorched earth and beneath the trembling sky, he found Lord Rama—deep in thought, his body wearied, his spirit steady—standing before the war-hardened Ravana, that ten-headed monarch crowned in…
The demon of ten heads and twenty arms, like a mighty sal tree battered by tempestuous winds, now trembled beneath the weight of insult and the storm of fury. The thunder of his pride fell to pieces, broken not by arms but by emotion more consuming than war. That fire of rage, born of wounded…
Fully armed and flaming with fury, Ravana, sovereign of rakshasas, leapt into the battlefield like a dark comet hurled from the abyss, roaring a challenge to the scion of Ikshvaku. Rama, still reeling under Lakshmana’s fervent counsel to fulfil the dread oath sworn beneath the forest boughs—to fell the demon king ere the sun dipped…
The fierce and impious Ravana, master of many dark arts, in his haste and fury unleashed a tempest of arrows, hoping to shroud the sky and unnerve Rama and the valiant Vanara host. From his diabolical arsenal, he summoned the Maya Astra, a blazing infernal weapon that hurled tridents, maces, and pestles from all quarters,…
The ten-headed king of Rakshasas, Ravana, his heart consumed with sorrow and rage, summoned his celestial chariot and bade it drive into the ranks of Rama. “I shall avenge,” he declared, “the fall of my loyal and puissant generals—I shall wipe clean the tears of Lanka with rivers of vengeance.” But in his pride, he…
In the dread days of the great Titan-war, when fury ruled the field and valor kindled every breast, no warrior turned aside, nor spared his breath, for each sought glory and death in the service of his sovereign. Blood soaked the soil, and warriors fell like summer lakes vanishing under the cruel sun. From both…
The murmurs stir in the shadowed hollows of Lanka. “’Tis the demoness, Surpanakha,” the whispers say, “She who sowed the seed of ruin.” By her goading, Ravana stirred enmity with Rama—and thus summoned the destruction of his house. The valour of Rama is sung in many tongues; yet our king, unprovoked, dared awaken his wrath….
In the dusky halls of Lanka’s golden palace, where silence now brooded heavier than war drums, the mighty but grieving Ravana sat upon his lion-throne, like a tempest caged within. His face, once radiant with defiance, now shadowed by sorrow—his heart burnt with the loss of Indrajit, his son, fallen amidst the clash of steel…
