servants to summon his advisers and minister immediately. With the least delay they began to arrive at Ravana’s retreat by horseback, elephant, and chariots, and the gods in Heaven watched the traffic apprehensively, speculating as to what this sudden activity might bode for the universe. Ravana’s consultations with the advisers were brief, being in the nature of an announcement to them of decisions already made. Somehow he valued the formality of being counselled. He then summoned his chariot, got into it alone, and flew towards a retreat where his uncle, Mareecha, was meditating in a cave. Mareecha had made two attempts to attack Rama and both had failed. The first had been the one at Sidhasrama, to avenge his mother Thataka’s death, when Rama’s arrow had flung him far out into the sea. Later he had made another attempt, failed to kill Rama, and retreated into the woods, forswearing a career of violence.
Now, at the sight of Ravana, Mareecha felt uneasy, but received him courteously and inquired, “What can I do for you?”
Ravana said, “My mind is shattered. I am going through a phase of utter shame. The gods doubtless watch and rejoice, but on our supreme race a great shame has fallen and we have to hang our heads down and crawl aside like faceless worms. A human creature has stationed himself in Dandaka and has dared to challenge our supremacy. He has mutilated my dear sister’s face. Your beloved niece is now without nose, ears, or breasts. He chopped them off when she approached his miserable hut.”
Mareecha already had an inkling as to who the human creature was, and when he heard the sound, “Rama,” he immediately said, “Keep away from him.” Ravana felt irritated and declared, “I won’t. Are you suggesting that we should tremble before him?”
“Let us not go near him.”
Ravana said, “Very well, I’ll not go near him, but only snatch away his woman and keep her with me. For after all I do not wish to engage myself in a fight with a mere human being. But he must be taught a lesson for his presumptuousness and reckless arrogance. One sure way of hurting a human being is to deprive him of his female companion.”
Mareecha, who was now putting forth his best effort to live a new life and practise all the moral and spiritual values, cried, “It’s immoral. Coveting another’s wife. . . .”
“She had no business to become his wife. She should have met me first,” said Ravana, his first phase of forlorn depression now giving place to levity.
Mareecha’s present outlook did not permit him to accept Ravana’s proposals passively. He cried, “You have the grace of Shiva on you. You are endowed with eminence and power. Do not cheapen yourself with such adventures. You should not become a subject of gossip in this or other worlds.”
“So you want me to watch indifferently when my sister is hurt and humiliated! I don’t need your advice. I only want your help.”
“In what manner?” asked Mareecha, feeling that he was nearing the end of his spiritual attempts and perhaps the end of his life too.
“I have a plan to take that woman away and you have a part in it.”
Mareecha said, “A sort of drum-beat goes on within my mind, sounding and re-sounding the message that you are seeking your own destruction and the liquidation of our race.”
“How dare you belittle my own power and exalt that creature who has not spared my sister!” Ravana asked angrily. “If I show patience now, it’s because I still treat you as my uncle.” And Mareecha retorted, “It’s on the same basis of relationship that I wish you to save yourself from annihilation.”
“You forget that I once shook Shiva’s abode, the Kailas mountain itself. My strength is unlimited.”
“But Rama is the one who broke in two Shiva’s bow, which was as big as the Meru Mountain.”
“You are still praising him,” Ravana said grimly.
“It’s because I watched him destroy my mother and brother Subahu. I saw Viswamithra impart to him all the powers in his command and thus Rama now possesses asthras immeasurable in power and numbers and he can face any encounter with assurance.”
“Enough of your rhapsody. I will split you with my sword, if you persist, and then achieve my end without your help, that’s all.” Mareecha suppressed his judgement and said, “I only thought of your welfare, which is my chief concern. I want you to live long and be happy.”
This pleased Ravana, who put his arm on Mareecha’s shoulder and said, “You are good and strong and your shoulders are broad and high like hillocks. Now go and fetch that Sita. Hurry up. And as to your prophecy, if I have to die for it, let it be Rama’s arrow that pierces my heart rather than the insidious, minute ones from the bow of the god of love.”
“Tell me what I should do. What is left for me to do? The time when I decided to avenge the death of my mother and brother, two companions and I approached Rama in the shape of spotted deer. Rama killed the other two with a single arrow and I barely escaped with my life. Then I adopted a new philosophy. Now again, what is there left for me to do?” reflected Mareecha woefully, concluding that he would rather be killed by Rama than by his own nephew, who had just threatened him.
Ravana merely said, “You will have to grab her by some trickery.”
“It would be nobler and more befitting for one of your status,” Mareecha replied, “to fight Rama on this issue and take Sita as a prize of your conquest.”
“Do you want me to employ an army to tackle that mortal? I can put an end to his nuisance once for all, but I do not wish to take that step, as the woman may immolate herself if she finds her man dead, and our whole plan would be ruined.”
Mareecha realized that his strategy to end Ravana’s career would not work. There was no escape for him. Resigning himself to his fate, he said, “Tell me what to do.”
Seizing the idea from Mareecha’s own narration, Ravana firmly suggested, without leaving him any choice, “Assume the form of a golden deer, and draw her out. I’ll do the rest . . . It’s the only way to get at her without hurting anyone.”
Mareecha agreed. “Yes, I’ll go this moment and carry out your wishes.” But he was fully aware of the consequences that would befall him immediately and Ravana later. Mareecha went forth, gloomily reflecting, “Twice have I escaped Rama’s arrow; now, this third time, I shall be doomed. I am like a fish in a poisoned pond.
