25. THE GRAND TORMENTOR

Ravana, the supreme lord of this and other worlds, sat in his

durbar hall, surrounded by a vast throng of courtiers and

attendants. The kings of this earth whom he had reduced to

vassalage stood about with their hands upraised in an

attitude of perpetual salutation, lest at any moment Ravana

should turn in their direction and think that they were not

sufficiently servile. Beauties gathered from all the worlds

surrounded him, singing, dancing, ministering to his wants,

ever ready to give him pleasure and service, with all their

eyes fixed on him watching for the slightest sign of

command. Every minute vast quantities of flowers were

rained on him by his admirers. He had also enslaved the

reigning gods and put them to perform menial tasks in his

court. Among them Vayu, the god of wind, was there to blow

away faded flowers and garlands, and generally sweep the

hall clean. Yama, the god of death, was employed to sound

the gong each hour to tell the time of day.

The god of fire was in charge of all illumination and kept lamps, incense,

and camphor flames alit. The Kalpataru, the magic tree that

yielded any wish, taken away from Indra, was also there to

serve Ravana. Sage Narada sat there gently playing his

veena. The gurus—Brihaspathi, who guided the gods, and Sukracharya, who guided the asuras—men possessing the finest intellects, were also there ready to advise Ravana

when asked and to act generally as soothsayers.

Into this setting crashed Soorpanaka, screaming so loudly

that all the men, women, and children of the city came

rushing out of their homes and crowded the northern portal of

the palace, where Soorpanaka had made her entry. She

dashed up and fell before Ravana's throne, crying, "See

what has happened to me!"

When Ravana observed her state, he thundered, "What is

the meaning of this? Who has done it?"—in such a tone that

all nature shrank and slunk away from the scene. Gods held

their breath unable to gauge the upheaval that would follow

when Ravana struck in revenge. While everyone in the

assembly held his breath and waited, Ravana inquired with

deliberate calmness, "Who has done this to you?"

Soorpanaka explained in detail and concluded, referring

to Rama, "Even if I had a thousand tongues, I could never

fully explain his beauty and the grandeur of his personality.

Even if one had a thousand eyes one could not take in the

splendor of this being. His strength is unmatched. Single-

handed he wiped out all our army." She realized that she had

made a blunder revealing too much of her inner feelings for

Rama and corrected herself by adding, "For all his looks,

what a cruel heart he has! His mission in life is to wipe out

our whole family, clan, class from the face of this earth.""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 favorites will be thrown out. I also fear that

you will surrender to her all your powers, valor,

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."