The seven elite warriors, sons of powerful ministers, set forth from their respective quarters to confront the mighty Hanuman. They shone like blazing fire, mounted upon celestial chariots drawn by steeds of immense might and speed. The chariots thundered forth, roaring through the skies, cleaving the gales unleashed by Hanuman’s fearsome power.
Each warrior, trained in the arts of war, wielded divine weapons and enchanted arrows with peerless skill. Enthusiastic to capture the giant monkey, they vied with one another, eager to fulfill the burning desire of their sovereign, the great demon king Ravana. Their bows and quivers gleamed under the sun, flashing like lightning amidst darkened storm clouds.
Yet, as they advanced, the mothers and kin of these warriors were seized with dread. The memory of the fierce Kinkaras, who had perished in Hanuman’s wake, weighed heavily upon their hearts. They whispered among themselves—was it Vishnu, or Indra himself, who had come to Lanka in disguise? Their fears were not unfounded.
The elite warriors bore ornaments of gold, their shields, swords, and tridents casting a radiant curtain of light, like the tender morning rays of the sun. They stood before Hanuman, observing him with wary eyes, formulating a plan in silence, their strategy shaped by instinct and observation.
These demons appeared as storm clouds, loosing their arrows with thunderous might, each bolt tearing into the sky like sheets of rain. A torrential downpour of missiles fell upon Hanuman, who stood amidst it all like a mighty mountain struck by monsoon deluge. But with a single swirl of his mighty frame, the arrows fell to the earth like dry twigs upon a cremation ground.
In sport, Hanuman seized the chariots of the elite warriors, flinging them through the sky with ease. Each crashed to the ground, shattered like mountains of nails and broken metal. For the first time, fear pierced the hearts of these sons of ministers. Once conquerors of countless realms, they now battled for their lives. Their pride shattered, they fell alongside their crushed chariots. Hanuman’s claws and fangs ripped through their supporting forces like silk.
Some demon soldiers collapsed with broken spirits at the mere sound of Hanuman’s roar. Others fled in panic, scattering in every direction. Elephants trumpeted in terror, never before having seen such ferocity. Hanuman hurled a pair of them into the sky, casting them down from terrible heights, their remains scattered and lost.
The cries of the wounded guards, horses, and elephants echoed through Lanka, transforming the city into a den of despair. Flags lay fallen, chariots broken, and animals lifeless in every quarter. And yet, Hanuman, though victorious, stood eager still, yearning to meet the true champions of Lanka, and confront Ravana himself, to warn him and return with this account to Sugriva.
Word of this devastation reached Ravana swiftly. The failure of the elite warriors struck a blow to his confidence. Though his pride masked his concern, he began to consider his next move. He summoned a band of fearsome ministers—warriors whose victories over gods, giants, and ghosts were etched into ancient lore. This group, known as the Devil Cohort, was unmatched in the world.
Virupaksha, swift as the wind; Yupaksha, capable of hurling mountains; Durdhara, Praghana, and Bhasakarna, masters of weaponry and precise aim—these demons stood defiant even to Vishnu, Indra, and Brahma.
Ravana addressed them: “O chiefs of my army, take with you a vast force—bring forth chariots, ghost-steeds, and demon-elephants. Subdue the giant monkey and capture him alive. Let no man act alone, but move in unison. Earlier warriors failed by their pride; you must prevail through strategy.”
His words bore gravity, revealing his shaken state. Where once he had dismissed the monkey as insignificant, now he recognized a force of divine origin. He suspected this mighty being had been created by the gods in vengeance. “Do not take him lightly,” he warned. “I have defeated Vali, Jambavantha, Neela, and Dwivida—beings of immense power and skill. Yet this creature is unlike any of them.”
Ravana reminded his warriors of their victories, their divine heritage, and their duty to protect the fame and glory of Lanka. “Let your efforts not only guard your lives, but uphold the pride of our indomitable kingdom.”
The five captains of the demon army surged forward with the brilliance of Agni and the speed of Vayu, drawn by ghostly steeds in their mighty chariots. Hanuman, radiant with divine favor, stood at the arch like a sun rising from ocean depths, glowing with faith and power. The demon generals beheld his form, astonished, yet pressed into battle without hesitation.
They unleashed their forces in all directions. Arrows and tridents flew with precision. Durdhara lost five sharp bolts at Hanuman’s head. Struck, the son of Vayu, let forth a thunderous roar, echoing like a thousand lions, and soared into the heavens.
Durdhara followed, engaging him in the sky. A dense volley of arrows enveloped Hanuman like a storm cloud. Yet, with a sudden surge, Hanuman grew in form, descended like a blazing meteor, and crushed Durdhara’s chariot. His steeds, charioteer, and the general himself were annihilated in an instant.
Virupaksha and Yupaksha, undeterred, ascended into the sky and struck Hanuman’s chest with their mace and trident. But Hanuman, swift as Garuda, caught them mid-air and cast them down with such force that no trace remained.
Though shaken, Praghana took command, supported by Bhasakarna. They waged battle from the heavens, wielding mighty weapons in hopes of turning the tide. Yet Hanuman, now colossal, seized them both and hurled them to earth. No hope of survival remained.
The five demon captains lay vanquished. The remnants of their forces were either slain, broken in spirit, or fled for their lives. Hanuman appeared like Indra himself amid the demon hordes, invincible in battle.
The battlefield lay desolate, strewn with shattered weapons, broken chariots, and lifeless bodies. Amidst this ruin, Hanuman stood tall at the arch, like Yama awaiting the souls of the fallen. His mission neared completion. The strength of the simian race had been declared, and the terror of Hanuman etched into the hearts of Ravana’s ranks.
Yet mightier foes, demons blessed with divine powers, were still to come. The eyes of Lanka turned once more to Ravana, whose next move in this celestial game of war was yet to be made.
