The Ramayana (67 page)

“Yes, many have cursed me, among them the mighty and the sublime. Parvati cursed me once, and Nandisvara. Varuna's daughter cursed me when I forced myself on her. My friends, today I have learned that the curses of the pure always come to pass.”

The nine heads around his central face were not to be seen, as if they hid themselves for shame. Confessing his anxiety, sharing it, appeared to allay its intensity. Ravana said, “All this talk is of no use. Lanka is threatened as it has never been since I became king. I can think of only one solution: Kumbhakarna must be awoken; let us see how Rama faces my brother in battle.”

Ravana ordered the guard at Lanka's gates to be doubled, and sent his messengers to Kumbhakarna's palace. Just nine days ago, his titanic brother had sat in the people's sabha and sworn to support his king in the event of a war. Eight days ago, the tremendous one had gone back to sleep.

Kumbhakarna slept deeply, but the messengers Ravana sent to awaken him were experts at their task. What they had to do was not easy; especially when it was just a week since he had fallen back into his slumber, which would last six months if he was not disturbed. Hillocks of food were heaped on great salvers carried by a small army of rakshasas. Among the dishes were young elephants, roasted whole. There was wine by the barrel and cartloads of garlands and incense. With these, and a train of nubile women, Ravana's servants came to rouse the king's brother. When Kumbhakarna awoke all his appetites must be satisfied at once, and all of them were enormous.

As they unlocked the door to his chamber with the golden key Ravana gave them, the gigantic rakshasa's snoring blasted in their ears. His breath billowed like a small typhoon around the cavernous room, whose ceiling was tall enough for the monster to stand under. Kumbhakarna lay naked, his chest heaving like an ocean, dreams flitting across his sensual face. Gently the women began to rub sandalwood paste into his smooth skin. His mountainous body was hairless.

The giant did not stir at the women's giggling ministrations, though there were ten of them, each one chosen just for him. They were tall, beautiful rakshasis, and rare: they alone in Lanka could bear his manhood. Quickly, they covered his massive body with the fragrant paste. They lifted his great head, four of them together, and the others draped the garlands around his neck. The food and the wine barrels had already been set down beside the bed, so there would be no delay when he awoke.

The servants brought conches, horns, and drums with them. They knew, from the experience of years, what an effort it was to rouse Kumbhakarna. When their loud talking had no effect, they began to shout in the hope that he might stir. But he slept on. When the anointing with sandalwood paste did not so much as break the rhythm of his snores, the servants began to blow on their conches, beat their drums, and blast on their horns. Kumbhakarna slept on.

Gingerly, they began to prod him and to shake his colossal form with their hands. He did not move. They tried to lift him from the bed, but could not. Then they began to slap his body in earnest. Not that they were pleased to do this; they feared that Ravana would have their heads if his brother did not wake up. They slapped him roughly and blew their conches into his juglike ears. They pulled the thick hairs in his nostrils. Suddenly, with a deep sigh, he rolled onto his side. Whatever dream he was smiling from left him, and his eyelids, long-lashed as a woman's, fluttered open.

With a roar that they had dared to interrupt his dreaming, Kumbhakarna sat bolt upright, red-eyed and growling horribly at them. Already, hunger raged in his hot body, and other lusts flamed through him as well. The servants jumped back some paces. They pointed to the heaped vessels of food and the barrels of wine. First his hungers must be fed; then they would tell him why they had come.

Tittering, the women came forward to feed Kumbhakarna. The menservants left them to their task. When half the food had been gorged, greedily, and three barrels of wine swilled down, Kumbhakarna began to fondle the women, who had disrobed for his pleasure. As always, the satisfaction of his desire did not take very long, though he took four of the ten women, one after the other, and their cries echoed down the long passages of the palace.

Kumbhakarna bathed, and the women dressed him and rubbed his body fragrant with the unguents and perfumes they had brought, to which he was so partial. Now the men were called back into the chamber. In his chasmal voice Kumbhakarna said, “You have woken me when I had barely fallen asleep. Tell me, who threatens Lanka? Is it Yama or Agni, Vayu or Indra?”

Just then a minister, Yupaksha, whom Ravana had sent after the others, came in. He said, “It is not Devaloka that threatens us. A human prince has laid siege to Lanka with an army of monkeys.”

Kumbhakarna's expression was incredulous. “Ravana really needs me to fight a man and some monkeys?”

Yupaksha said, “Prahastha is slain, and this man Rama vanquished our king in battle.”

Kumbhakarna growled in surprise. The women had almost finished dressing him. He brushed them aside and stood up, a mountain of a rakshasa, towering over the others.

Yupaksha said quietly, “Rama spared Ravana's life. He told him to come back to fight with a new chariot and another bow.”

Kumbhakarna roared softly; then he laughed. “What! But this has never happened to my brother before. No Deva or Danava, yaksha or gandharva has ever humbled Ravana. Surely, no ordinary man has done this to him.”

“Ravana dares not go out to face Rama again. He wants you to kill the Kosala princes.”

Drawing himself erect, Kumbhakarna said, “I will. Tell Ravana that before the sun sets he will see the humans lying dead in the bloody sludge of the field. I will drag their bodies through the streets to his palace, that they dared to attack Lanka.”

But Mahodara, who had come with Yupaksha, said, “Perhaps you should meet the king before you go out to fight. He is distraught; seeing you will restore his spirits.”

Slowly, Kumbhakarna nodded. He loved his brother. He thought the world of him, and hated to hear that Ravana had been humiliated. Mahodara and Yupaksha hurried back to their master. Ravana sat alone and downcast in his sabha. They ran in to him, crying, “Kumbhakarna is awake, my lord. He wants to know when you will see him.”

Ravana said dully, “I will see him at once, if he is ready to come to me.”

The earth shuddered where Kumbhakarna set foot, on his way to meet his brother. Clad in white silks, his body embellished with glittering ornaments, heavy golden earrings in his ears, Kumbhakarna went to meet Ravana as Indra might go to Brahma. When he came out into the sun the vanaras perched on the smooth walls of Lanka, gazing in at what went on within the city, fled in fear. They had never seen anyone like him. He was full of raw splendor; his massive body blazed like a piece of the sun and it was hard to look directly at the leviathan.

When Kumbhakarna entered the sabha, he saw at a glance the damage Rama had done to Ravana's spirit. The haughty, regal bearing, which had set that king apart, had vanished. Instead, a forlorn Rakshasa sat on Lanka's throne, gaunt with defeat. When he saw Kumbhakarna, Ravana sprang up with a cry. He rushed to his brother and embraced him. He led him to the outsized throne beside his own, which was always kept there and was the giant's place.

Kumbhakarna said resonantly, “Who has tormented you, my brother? He will not live, be he not our Pitamaha Brahma himself. No one in the three worlds who has hurt you shall escape my wrath.”

Ravana sighed; he was restive. He said, “So much has happened while you slept. These few days have been like years, ah, like centuries. As we feared, Rama came to Lanka with his army of monkeys. Vali's brother, Sugriva, is his ally. They crossed the sea and they have ravaged our island. Wherever the monkeys go they make a desolation of our orchards and gardens. No fruit remain on the trees, or flowers on their stems.”

He sighed again, a deep fire flickering briefly in his troubled eyes. ‘They lay waste not only the plants and trees. The monkeys have killed many of our greatest warriors. Vajradamshtra, Akampana, and Dhrumraksha are dead.” His voice fell lower still. “Prahastha is slain.”

Kumbhakarna growled again in amazement. Ravana continued, “Thousands of our soldiers are dead. Indrajit bound Rama and his brother with the nagapasa; but the serpent noose did not kill them and their wounds healed miraculously. I struck Lakshmana down with the brahmashakti; it only stunned him. The moment Rama touched him with his hands, Lakshmana awoke from the sleep of the shakti, as no Deva could have.”

His lips quivered, and the memory of his own humiliation filled his fierce eyes. In a whisper, Ravana said, “Then I fought Rama. His arrows were swifter than mine. He smashed my chariot; he killed my horses and my sarathy. He broke the bow in my hand and the crown on my head. He struck me down into the red mire of the field, and I was his to kill.

“But shining like my death above me, he said, ‘Go back to your palace and rest. You are tired. Come again to fight me with a new chariot and another bow.'”

The Rakshasa choked, as if those words were flaming poison in his throat. A bitter laugh tore its way out of him. Desperate Ravana grasped his brother's hand and cried, “The hour of my direst need is here. I need your help today as I have never done before, or I would not have woken you. Go into battle for me, Kumbhakarna; go like Yama among Rama's army. You are my only hope now, only you can save me.”

Unpredictable as ever, Kumbhakarna laughed. “We warned you in the people's sabha. Vibheeshana warned you, but his wisdom fell on deaf ears. There is no escape from the evil path you have chosen to tread. The hell you made for yourself has come seeking you.

“A wise king never disregards the Shastras. He does not ignore the truth for the sake of his lust. A wise king, Ravana, is never threatened by danger. But you, who have always been so cautious and so sage, chose to abandon dharma for the sake of this woman Sita. When you had lost your heart to her, you listened only to the flatterers in your court. But they, who turned wrong to right and sin to virtue, to say whatever you wanted to hear, they who ignored all the omens, were the worst traitors. And it was to them you chose to listen. You were deluded by the arrogance of your wealth and your power; my brother, you were deluded by your own vanity.

“Where is Prahastha now, who swore he would raze Rama's army by himself? Ravana, you ask me to fight against Rama. But it is my dharma as your brother, who loves you, to warn you. I will gladly go into battle for you, but I do not think this is a war you should pursue. Give her back, Ravana; my heart tells me we must return Sita at once.”

Ten heads flashed into view. The lips on ten dark faces throbbed; twenty eyes glared at Kumbhakarna. Ravana howled in rage at what his brother said to him.

“How dare you! You are my younger brother; how dare you preach to me? You speak so glibly of the Shastras. But you seem to forget that an older brother is to be treated like a father, not scolded like a child.”

Even the thought of giving Sita up was like dying to Ravana. But then he considered the truth of what Kumbhakarna had said; he knew his brother was right. Ravana softened, and nine heads withdrew out of sight.

He sighed again and said more quietly, “Perhaps you are right, and I have strayed from the path of kings. It may be true that I have been overwhelmed by love and deluded by power and wealth. But Kumbhakarna, the wise do not waste time mourning the past. Our lives are threatened; this is not the time to argue the rights and wrongs of our situation.

“I have sinned, I confess it today. I have sinned; otherwise, Rama's arrows would not have felled me as easily as they did. But he who helps a sinner out of love is noble indeed. Only you can save me now, only you can kill this kshatriya. Decide, my brother; will you fight my cause? I am sure that if you do, not the greatest vanaras, not Rama and Lakshmana, will stand before you. Help me, Kumbhakarna; it is the hour of my despair.”

At once Kumbhakarna's whole manner changed. Gently now, he said, “I am not yet dead, am I, that you should tremble like this? No matter who is right or wrong, I will kill the kshatriya. He has come to our gates with war and I will kill him. I only said what I did out of love for you. Do not think I have forsaken you as Vibheeshana did. Fear nothing any more, Ravana. Kumbhakarna is awake now and he is ready for battle. Within the hour, I will bring you Rama's head and throw it at your feet.”

A slow smile lit Ravana's face; hope stole back into his heart. Kumbhakarna went on, “You speak of danger, my brother. But I will rid you of this danger as the sun does the earth of night's darkness. Smooth the anxiety from your brow. Go to your harem, Ravana; order a flagon of your best wine and celebrate with your women. Victory shall be yours within the hour.” Kumbhakarna smiled with surprising softness. “When Rama is dead, she will come to you, the one you are so hungry for. She will be yours forever.”

Ravana cried, “When they see you with your trisula in your hand, they will think Yama himself has come to war. Go, my noble brother, bring me the heads of the princes of Ayodhya.”

Kumbhakarna sent for his trident. It was carried by two rakshasas: a great and fell weapon, a thing alive. When Kumbhakarna took it from them, it glowed with uncanny light. Kumbhakarna smiled, “I need no army to go with me. I will go into battle alone.”

But Ravana said, “The monkeys are ferocious. They hurl rocks at us, and trees that they pull out of the earth easily as blades of grass. If you let them near, they bite viciously and scratch with long nails. Take an army to guard your back and your flanks; the vanaras are savage and unafraid.”

Ravana rose. He was certain the battle would turn his way once Kumbhakarna went to fight. The king took a golden chain from a table next to his throne. It shone with emeralds, rubies, and pearls, all huge and iridescent; all cut specially for Kumbhakarna. Ravana placed the shimmering necklace around his brother's neck and embraced him. An exquisite casket sat on the table. Ravana drew some bracelets from it, and a diamond ring set with a solitaire as big as a child's fist. He knew how much his brother loved jewelry—as a woman does. He adorned Kumbhakarna with these priceless ornaments. Kumbhakarna stood there, as resplendent as Himavan, Lord of mountains.