Fourteen Thousand Demons Behold Rama Everywhere and Destroy One Another
Aranya Kanda, Chhand 5
Keep this contemplation
Preserve, print, or share
Rama's terrible arrows fly hissing like a multitude of serpents. The keen shafts turn the demon heroes from the field, but Khara, Dushana, and Trishira threaten to kill any warrior who flees. The host wheels back with death already chosen. Weapons crowd the air. Rama fits arrow after arrow to the bow, and iron headed shafts begin cutting through the monstrous ranks. Chests, heads, arms, hands, and feet fall across the earth. Struck warriors crash like mountains, rise again by sorcery, and charge as headless trunks beneath a sky filled with severed limbs.
The battlefield becomes a dreadful city of death. Vultures, herons, crows, and jackals gather. Ghosts and pishachas collect skulls, betalas beat time upon them, and yoginis dance. Vultures lift trailing entrails like children flying kites above a crowded town. Through this wild spectacle, Raghubira's arrows keep breaking chests, arms, and heads. Khara, Dushana, and Trishira rally the ruined army and hurl arrows, lances, axes, tridents, swords, and shaktis together. Rama turns every missile aside in a blink and plants ten shafts in the chest of each commander.
Still the demons fall, rise, fight, and weave a dense enchantment. The gods tremble at fourteen thousand night-wanderers surrounding the lone Lord of Ayodhya. Then the Master of Maya performs his wonder. Each demon looks across the tumult and sees the other demons as Rama. Every weapon turns toward that vision. The host fights its own host, each warrior believing Rama is before him, until the vast army destroys itself beneath the gaze of the solitary archer.
Rama stands one upon the field while fourteen thousand enemies behold him everywhere.
Read the passage from the Manas
तब चले जान बबान कराल। फुंकरत जनु बहु ब्याल।। कोपेउ समर श्रीराम। चले बिसिख निसित निकाम।। अवलोकि खरतर तीर। मुरि चले निसिचर बीर।। भए क्रुद्ध तीनिउ भाइ। जो भागि रन ते जाइ।। तेहि बधब हम निज पानि। फिरे मरन मन महुँ ठानि।। आयुध अनेक प्रकार। सनमुख ते करहिं प्रहार।। रिपु परम कोपे जानि। प्रभु धनुष सर संधानि।। छाँड़े बिपुल नाराच। लगे कटन बिकट पिसाच।। उर सीस भुज कर चरन। जहँ तहँ लगे महि परन।। चिक्करत लागत बान। धर परत कुधर समान।। भट कटत तन सत खंड। पुनि उठत करि पाषंड।। नभ उड़त बहु भुज मुंड। बिनु मौलि धावत रुंड।। खग कंक काक सृगाल। कटकटहिं कठिन कराल।। कटकटहिं ज़ंबुक भूत प्रेत पिसाच खर्पर संचहीं। बेताल बीर कपाल ताल बजाइ जोगिनि नंचहीं।। रघुबीर बान प्रचंड खंडहिं भटन्ह के उर भुज सिरा। जहँ तहँ परहिं उठि लरहिं धर धरु धरु करहिं भयकर गिरा।। अंतावरीं गहि उड़त गीध पिसाच कर गहि धावहीं।। संग्राम पुर बासी मनहुँ बहु बाल गुड़ी उड़ावहीं।। मारे पछारे उर बिदारे बिपुल भट कहँरत परे। अवलोकि निज दल बिकल भट तिसिरादि खर दूषन फिरे।। सर सक्ति तोमर परसु सूल कृपान एकहि बारहीं। करि कोप श्रीरघुबीर पर अगनित निसाचर डारहीं।। प्रभु निमिष महुँ रिपु सर निवारि पचारि डारे सायका। दस दस बिसिख उर माझ मारे सकल निसिचर नायका।। महि परत उठि भट भिरत मरत न करत माया अति घनी। सुर डरत चौदह सहस प्रेत बिलोकि एक अवध धनी।। सुर मुनि सभय प्रभु देखि मायानाथ अति कौतुक कर् यो। देखहि परसपर राम करि संग्राम रिपुदल लरि मर् यो।।
Then flew the terrible arrows, hissing like countless serpents. Shri Rama grew wrathful in battle, and his sharp, relentless shafts flew forth. Seeing those razor-edged arrows, the demon heroes turned and fled. But the three brothers burned with rage: 'Whoever flees the battlefield, we will slay with our own hands!' Resolving to die, the fleeing demons turned back, striking the Lord with every weapon they possessed. Knowing his foes were desperate, Prabhu fitted shafts to his bow and released a torrent of iron-tipped arrows. The terrible pishacha warriors began to fall. Heads, arms, hands, and feet rained upon the earth in every direction. Screaming as the arrows struck, the demons crashed to the ground like uprooted mountains. Warriors were cut into a hundred pieces yet rose again through sorcery. Severed arms and heads flew through the sky. Headless trunks charged onward. Vultures, herons, crows, and jackals gnashed their teeth in savage glee. Jackals howled. Ghosts, spirits, and pishacha gathered skulls. Betala heroes clapped skull-drums, and yoginis danced. Raghubira's ferocious arrows shattered the chests, arms, and heads of the warriors. Wherever they fell, they rose and fought on, crying 'Seize him! Seize him!' in dreadful voices. Vultures snatched up trailing entrails and soared aloft. Pishacha ran clutching severed hands. It was as though the residents of some battleground city were sending up countless kites into the sky. Struck down, hurled to the ground, chests torn open, countless warriors fell groaning. Seeing his own forces in desperate confusion, Trishira, Khara, and Dushana rallied and charged. Arrows, shaktis, lances, axes, tridents, swords: all at once, countless night-wanderers hurled them upon Shri Raghubira in fury. In the blink of an eye, Prabhu deflected every enemy shaft, then released his own arrows with a roar. He struck ten arrows into the chest of each demon commander. Warriors fell to the earth, rose, and fought again, refusing to die, weaving thick and heavy maya. The gods trembled to behold it: fourteen thousand demons against the lone Lord of Ayodhya. Gods and munis alike grew fearful. Then Prabhu, the Master of Maya, performed a supreme marvel. While the demons saw each other fighting Rama, the entire enemy host perished in battle.