Markandeya, ancient witness of celestial deeds, spoke of the next great turn in the war. Indrajit, cherished son of the night-born king, absorbed wholly in his father’s intent, mounted his resplendent chariot and swept onto the field like a storm released. The vanara hosts rose against him, yet he cast them aside as a tiger passes through reeds, driving straight toward Lakshmana, whose bowstring sang aloud, sending tremors across the armies. Lakshmana advanced upon him as a lion springs upon a maddened elephant. Both were masters of celestial weapons, both radiant in courage, both intent upon the other’s fall; and as they clashed, the heavens shuddered. Their arrows filled the sky in unceasing measure, fire answering fire, and neither gained advantage. When Indrajit hurled maces, axes, pestles, and hooked blades, Lakshmana shattered them to powder.
Then Angada, son of Vali, leapt forward and struck Indrajit’s crown with the trunk of a great tree. Enraged, Indrajit rose with a trident blazing in his hand, but Lakshmana cut it apart before it touched its mark. Again, Indrajit smote Angada with a heavy mace; yet the prince endured the blow, seized another tree, and crushed the demon’s chariot, steeds, and charioteer in a single sweep. Indrajit vanished into the sky, and the vanaras trembled, for none knew where he would reappear or how his sorcery would descend.
From the hidden vaults of the air, he roared like thunder from storm-clouds, sending countless arrows sanctified by sinister rites. Rama and Lakshmana were veiled in shafts, struck by weapons that rained from nowhere. Sugriva and the simian heroes hurled rocks and trees upward, but unseen missiles struck them down. Even the princes, shining like the sun fallen to earth, were overcome and fainted beneath this dark enchantment. Indrajit raised a cry of triumph, thinking victory his own. Bound by the serpentine spell of the Naga-weapon, the brothers lay silent while the vanara chiefs despaired.
Then Vibhishana came, dissolving the binding with the power of the Brahma-weapon, and Sushena healed their wounds with the life-giving herb Viśalyakarani. When they rose ready for battle, Vibhishana bowed to Rama and said: “Kubera has sent a celestial swan bearing waters divine. Anoint your eyes, and the hidden shall be revealed.” Rama did so, and at once discerned Indrajit gliding in a secret region of the heavens; with well-aimed shafts, he struck the invisible foe. Indrajit, astonished, felt the pride of his sorcery wane. He resolved to return to the city and perform the rites that renewed his sinister powers. But Vibhishana warned: “If he completes the rite, none may conquer him. Pursue him now.” Then Lakshmana, roaring like a lion, followed swiftly.
The final combat of the two was fierce beyond all telling. Armies ceased their battling to witness the clash, likening them to twin tigers, twin lions, or mighty elephants locked in mortal fury. Arrows rained in torrents; Indrajit struck Lakshmana in every quarter, yet Lakshmana answered blow with blow. With two keen trident-shaped shafts, he severed the demon’s hands; with a third, he lopped the head from his body. Gleaming with earrings, it fell to the earth, and Indrajit’s form collapsed like a great tree shorn of its branches. The vanaras roared in triumph; the demons fled in terror; and in his distant citadel, the ten-mouthed king wailed the fall of his son.
In madness of grief, he sped to the grove where Sita dwelt, sword in hand, intent on ending her life. But his loyal elder stayed him, saying, “O lord of Lanka, slaying a woman disgraces valour. You have subdued Indra and other celestials; shall you stain that glory by striking the helpless? Conquer the prince of Raghu’s line and win honour, but shed no woman’s blood.” Ravana fell silent and withdrew to his palace.
Soon he rode forth again in splendour, commanding his hosts. The vanaras met him with unyielding might. By deceitful art he multiplied himself into countless warriors, yet Rama broke every illusion with divine weapons. Illusory forms rose from all quarters, but were destroyed as swiftly as they appeared.
Then Mathali, Indra’s charioteer, descended with the lord’s own sky-car, radiant with gold and silver and gems clear as mountain ice. He bowed before Rama and said, “On this chariot Indra of old slew the monstrous Jambha. Mount it now and bring the demon-king to his end.” Rama ascended, and the battle blazed anew. Ravana fought with the fury of cosmic dissolution, unleashing weapons that darkened the heavens. But Rama met every missile, cutting down a massive enchanted spear and quelling all other arms until the universe trembled.
At last Rama, calm and resolute, invoked the Brahma-weapon. It sped forth like the judgement of eternity and struck Ravana down. The worlds rejoiced; sages, siddhas, gandharvas, and yakshas extolled Rama’s victory. Mathali, Lakshmana, Sugriva, and the hosts of vanaras hailed him as conqueror. Celestial drums and flutes filled the sky with sacred music. Then Rama, guardian of all who seek refuge, raised Vibhishana to the throne of Lanka and lordship over the night-wandering races.
In time Avindhya, attending upon Vibhishana, brought Sita in a palanquin and placed her before Rama. Her garments were soiled from long captivity, her eyes swollen from ceaseless weeping, her hair unbound and heavy with sorrow. Rama, stern in posture and unmoved in visage, spoke words that pierced her heart and stunned all who heard: “Sita, though your virtue may be spotless, you have dwelt in the house of one whose conduct is vile. If I take you back, my honour and righteousness will bear a stain. I slew the demon not for your sake but to avenge the insult done to me. You are free to go where you will.”
Stricken, she swayed like a plant cut at its root. All joy over the demon-king’s fall vanished from the watchers’ faces. Yet she gathered her spirit, and with trembling voice said: “O Rama, if my mind has remained pure, fixed always upon your feet, then let the elements bear witness. If I am false, let them consume me now; but if true, let them uphold me.” The five elements declared in unison: “O lord of men, the daughter of Janaka is pure; no shadow of sin touches her.” Then Brahma himself came with the gods, praising Rama’s deeds and revealing that by Nalakubera’s curse the demon-king was powerless to violate any woman’s honour. “There is no fault in your queen,” said the creator. “Return with her to Ayodhya.”
The gods restored all fallen vanaras to life and returned to their realms. Mathali departed to his lord. And thus, said Markandeya, the worlds were safeguarded, Rama’s companions stood unharmed, and at that auspicious hour the scion of Raghu prepared for his homeward journey.
