“Ah,” cried Ravana, challenged. “We will see about that. But tell me why he did this to you. How did you provoke him?”
“He has a woman who should be yours. If you win her I fear all your present favourites will be thrown out. I also fear that you will surrender to her all your powers, valour, possessions, and conquests and make yourself her abject devotee. Her name is Sita. I was so overcome by her beauty that I waited and watched for a chance and attempted to snatch her and bring her to you as a present.”
Ravana’s interest shifted from revenge to love and he said, “Why didn’t you?”
“When I seized her, this man’s brother—Ah! how strong he was!—fell on me and slashed my face.”
“Tell me all about her. . . .” Ravana commanded, ignoring all other issues.
Soorpanaka described Sita from head to toe in minute detail. The picture she conjured up was convincing and Ravana fell madly in love with her image. He became restless and unhappy. Every syllable that Soorpanaka uttered gave him both pleasure and pain. Soorpanaka urged him to set forth and capture Sita. Finally she said, “When you have succeeded in getting that woman, keep her for yourself; but be sure to surrender the man Rama to my hands. I’ll deal with him.” She had no doubt that her strategy to separate Sita from Rama was going to succeed and then Rama would naturally turn to her for love.
Ravana felt uneasy. He rose abruptly and left the hall, unwilling to let the assembly notice his state of mind. They rained flowers on him and uttered blessings and recited his glory as usual when he strode down the passage. His ten heads were held erect and his eyes looked straight ahead, not noticing the people standing about in respectful array; his mind was seething with ideas for the conquest of Sita. Soorpanaka’s words had lit an all- consuming flame within him. He ignored his wives, who were awaiting his favours, and passed on to his own private chamber, where he shut the door and flung himself on his luxurious bed. He lay there tossing, unable to rid his mind of the figure conjured up by Soorpanaka’s words. It was a total obsession; he felt tormented and raged against his surroundings, which appeared to aggravate his suffering. Presently he realized that his bed and the chamber were uninhabitable. The place seemed to be scorching hot. He got up and moved out unceremoniously to the woods, leaving his attendants and aides wondering what kind of seizure was driving him hither and thither. He moved to his garden house of pure marble and gold set amidst towering palmyra and flowering trees, and lay down on a pure white satin bed. When they saw him arrive, cuckoos and parrots in the trees silenced themselves.
The late winter with its light mist and cool wind proved uncomfortable to Ravana, who shouted at it the question, “What wretched season are you?”—whereupon the weather changed to early summer, a rather unwilling summer ushered in prematurely. One who found the wintry day too warm naturally found even the spring unbearable. Ravana cried out, “I do not want this weather. Let the monsoons come immediately.”
The weather changed to suit his mood. On his order came the monsoon season with its cloud and damp air, but even that proved too warm for him. He shouted, “What kind of weather is this? You have brought back only the late winter, which was horrible.”
His aides answered meekly, “Would we dare to disobey you? What we called down was really early rains, as your Lordship commanded.”
Whereupon Ravana said, “Banish all seasons. Let them all get out of this world.” As a consequence, there was a complete standstill in time. Minute, hour, day, month, and year lost their boundaries. And mankind was lost in a seasonless confusion. In spite of all this, there was no peace for Ravana. He was still scorched by a hopeless love for Sita.
When all measures for cooling himself had failed—such as covering his body with sandalwood paste and layers of tender leaves of a rare plant treated with essence of saffron—Ravana, who felt himself shrivelling in stature, said to those around him, “The moon is supposed to have cool moisture. Bring the moon down.”
His messengers approached the moon, who normally avoided passage over Ravana’s territory, and said, “Our King summons you. Don’t be afraid. Come with us.” The moon rose in full glory over the sea and timidly approached Ravana, bathing his surroundings in soft light.
But now Ravana asked his servants, “What made you bring the sun?” They answered, “The sun dare not come unasked nor would we dare to bring him here.” When Ravana recognized the moon as the moon, he swore at him, “You are worthless, pale-faced, constantly worn out and trying to regain your shape again. You have no stamina or quality. You are contemptible. Is it possible that you are also stricken with thoughts of Sita? Take care if you ever entertain any ideas about that woman. Get out now, I don’t want you here.” He then ordered, “Let the night go. Get back daylight and the sun.”
When the night suddenly ceased, all the people of the world were suddenly thrown into confusion. Lovers in bed found themselves suddenly exposed by daylight; those in a state of intoxication with wine were bewildered and embarrassed. Birds stirred in their nests not knowing what had happened. Lamps fed with oil and lit for a whole night faded in daylight. Astronomers who calculate the movement of the stars and planets and declare their positions through the almanacs were caught literally napping as they did not know day had come. Even the roosters remained silent, unable to adjust themselves to the sudden daylight. “Is this the sun? You call him the sun! He is once again the moon who was here a while ago and made my blood boil. This one is no better. Same as before. Don’t lie,” said Ravana. His servants assured him again that this was really the sun. Then he ordered the sun to go out and the crescent moon to rise; then the sea waves to remain silent; and then ordered total darkness to envelop the earth, causing confusion and suffering to its inhabitants. In that utter darkness Ravana suffered hallucinations of Sita’s figure approaching and receding, and addressed it endearingly.
He had never seen anyone so beautiful in all the worlds where he had roamed at will. Still doubting his own vision, he ordered, “Fetch my sister at once.” No time could be lost between his command and the execution thereof. Soorpanaka arrived. He asked her, “I see this woman before me. Is this the one you meant?”
Soorpanaka looked hard and said, “Oh, no. The person who stands before us is not a woman at all. It’s Rama, that—that man. I don’t see Sita here. You are only imagining. . . .”
“If it’s mere imagination on my part, how is it you see Rama here?”
Soorpanaka merely said, “Ever since the day he did this damage to me, I find it impossible to forget him,” trying not to be too explicit about her feelings for Rama, equivocating her meaning.
Ravana said, “Be that as it may, I am melting and dying for Sita. How shall I be saved now?”
Soorpanaka said, “You are the overlord of seven worlds, mightier than the mightiest. Why do you feel sad and unhappy? Go and get her; that is all. Take her. She is yours. Is there anything beyond your reach? Stir yourself. Leave this desolate mood. Go forth, snatch her, because she is yours, created for you and waiting for you.” Thus she infused a new spirit in Ravana, and it made her secretly happy that her plan to get Sita out of the way was working out satisfactorily. She left.
Ravana felt reassured now and braced himself to take practical steps to achieve his aim. He sent out his
