At the hour when Khara’s legion embarked for battle, dire omens loomed ominously, foretelling disaster. The heavens churned with turbulent, dusty clouds, spiralling in chaotic directions, as though nature herself foresaw the consequences and expressed her anguish in vivid yet measured ways. Blood-red droplets rained upon the demon warriors, a harbinger of the doom to come. The steeds of Khara’s chariot stumbled and faltered, their uneasy gait unsettling the commander.
The sun, dimmed by an unearthly eclipse of dust and fiery rings, cast an eerie twilight over the land. A great eagle, swooping from nowhere, descended upon the flagstaff and tore the banner asunder. Beasts and predators wailed in terror, their cries echoing like a forest aflame. Packs of foxes howled in distress, while thunderclouds rolled overhead, blotting out the sky and enveloping all in an unnatural darkness.
The demon warriors, their hair standing on end, quailed at the sudden gloom. Predators emerged from the shadows, their shrill cries obstructing the army’s advance. The omens spoke plainly—this was an ill-timed endeavour, destined for catastrophic loss. The very cosmos seemed to rebel; the planetary order unravelled, sending shockwaves across realms, foretelling an unparalleled event in mortal history.
Strange portents abounded: fireflies darted in the daylight, lakes churned violently, ejecting fish, turtles, and crocodiles onto the parched earth. The flowers of lilies and lotuses, bereft of life, lay scattered on the ground. Though the air was still, swirling dust obscured the path. Meteors streaked across the heavens as if the stars themselves waged war. Mountains trembled with quaking force along the forested route to their grim destination.
Khara’s body trembled on the left side, an unmistakable sign of ill fate. Yet, driven by arrogance, he dismissed these portents with scornful laughter. Addressing his forces, he sneered, “Such signs are for the weak-hearted and short-lived. I am above such trivialities. Should I desire, I could pluck the stars from the sky or cow the god of death himself! My sister, Shurpanakha, has been dishonoured, and I shall offer the blood of her tormentors as her due vengeance. No mortal can withstand me! Have I not triumphed in every battle? Even mighty Indra upon his celestial elephant, Airavata, would fall before my wrath!”
This brazen display of hubris momentarily dispelled the fears of his army. Their spirits rekindled, they roared in unison, their war cries shaking the heavens and earth alike. Led by Khara and his deputy commanders—Dooshana and Trishira—alongside twelve captains of fearsome repute, including Syenagami, Prithugreeva, Yajnasatru, and others, the vast demon horde surged toward their destination, wielding colossal weapons and exuding unparalleled ferocity.
Meanwhile, the sages and celestial beings watched with bated breath, their prayers rising for Rama’s victory. They beseeched him as an incarnation of Vishnu, the eternal preserver who once vanquished the forces of darkness. The divine assembly, mindful of the demon lineage tracing back to the venerable Brahmarshi Pulastya, understood the gravity of the impending conflict.
Yet, the fate of these demons seemed sealed, their lifespans waning with the lustful misstep of Shurpanakha, which had set the wheels of this battle in motion. Forces from the shadowy corners of the forest joined Khara’s ranks, driven by their own sinister motives. The heavens and earth prepared for a clash that would echo across the ages, a battle ordained to restore harmony and pave the way for a new epoch of universal peace.
