यमरावणयुद्धं ब्रह्मवचनात् कालदण्डनिवर्तनं च

Agastya continued. When the lord Vaivasvata heard Rāvaṇa's great roar, he knew that his enemy had won and his own army had been destroyed. Knowing his warriors slain, his eyes red with anger, he said at once to his charioteer, "Bring my chariot," words brief and hurried with the heat of his rage. His charioteer brought up his great divine chariot and stood ready, and Yama of great energy mounted it. Before him stood Death, dart and hammer in hand, Death who sweeps away this whole threefold world at the end of time. At his side stood the Rod of Time in bodily form, Yama's divine weapon, blazing like fire. On either side were set the Nooses of Time, which leave no gap for escape, and the hammer, whose touch is like fire, also stood there in bodily form. Seeing Time himself enraged, the terror of all the worlds, the three worlds were shaken and even the gods in heaven trembled. Yama's weapons stand beside him like living companions, and so the poet paints his awesome form: he is not merely a warrior but destruction itself. In the previous sarga Yama appeared as a calm judge; here he is a furious warrior, the two faces of one god. He goes to battle himself rather than sending messengers, which shows how grave his anger was. And this dreadful sight puts Rāvaṇa's pride to the test: until now he had beaten men and gods, but now he must fight Death in person.

The charioteer urged on the brilliant horses, and the chariot, roaring terribly, sped to where the lord of the rākṣasas stood. Those horses, like Indra's own and swift as thought, going wherever the mind goes, brought Yama in a moment to the battlefield. Seeing that dreadful chariot with Death riding in it, the rākṣasa lord's ministers suddenly fled. Having little courage, they lost their wits in terror and ran off in all directions, crying, "We cannot fight here." They had fought Yama's messengers bravely enough, but the sight of Death himself broke their nerve, and Rāvaṇa was left alone. But Daśagrīva, seeing that chariot, the terror of the worlds, was not shaken, and no fear entered him. His courage is praised: his ministers fled and he stood alone. His boon made him fearless, yet the poet suggests that his firmness was also his own nature. Yama came at Rāvaṇa and, in great anger, hurled javelins and lances and pierced him in his vital parts, like an experienced fighter aiming at the weak places. Rāvaṇa, steady, answered with a shower of arrows on Vaivasvata's chariot, relentless as a cloud pouring rain. So a battle of two evenly matched foes began. The poet does not belittle Rāvaṇa's bravery; it stands in his story beside his wickedness, for both his virtues and his faults are shown.

Then, with hundreds of great javelins falling on his broad chest, the rākṣasa, tormented by the darts, could not strike back. So Yama, harrier of foes, fought him with many kinds of weapons for seven nights, until his enemy lay senseless and turned from the fight; it was, it seemed, Rāvaṇa's first real defeat, but he rose again. Then a tumultuous battle raged between the two, Yama and the rākṣasa, both eager for victory and neither ever turning back. Then, heroic Rāma, the gods with the gandharvas, the siddhas and the supreme seers, with Prajāpati at their head, gathered on that battlefield. As the chief of the rākṣasas and the lord of the dead fought on, it was like the dissolution of the worlds. The lord of the rākṣasas bent his bow, bright as Indra's thunderbolt, and loosed his arrows until the sky seemed filled without a gap. He struck Death with four arrows and the charioteer with seven, and swiftly struck Yama in his vital parts with a hundred thousand. The seven nights show how great the battle was, for no one had ever fought Yama so long, and the fighting did not pause between day and night. The gods came as spectators, as Nārada had in his curiosity, all of them witnesses of this wondrous fight, and Prajāpati's presence will prove decisive, for he is the one who will stop it. Rāvaṇa's three targets, Death, the charioteer and Yama, struck all at once, show his daring, for he wounds even Death with his arrows; and the hundred thousand arrows are an exaggeration that conveys the fury of the fight.

Then from the mouth of the enraged Yama was born a fire of wrath, wreathed in flames, hissing and smoking, his anger made visible. Seeing that wonder before the gods and dānavas, Death and Time, greatly roused, were delighted, for the moment for their own work had come; to them the battle was like a festival. Then Death, angrier still, said to Vaivasvata: "Release me, so that I may kill this wicked rākṣasa in battle. For this rākṣasa there shall be no exception to the law today; such is my nature. Glorious Hiraṇyakaśipu, Namuci, Śambara, Nisandi, Dhūmaketu, Bali son of Virocana, the daitya Śambhu, the great king Vṛtra and Bāṇa; royal seers learned in the scriptures, gandharvas and great serpents, seers, snakes, daityas, yakṣas and hosts of apsarases; and at the turning of the ages the earth itself with its great oceans, its mountains, rivers and trees, great king: all these and many others, mighty and hard to approach, perished once I had looked on them. What then of this night-ranger? Release me, knower of dharma, and I will kill him. No one, however strong, lives once I have looked on him. This is not my strength, Time; it is the law set by nature. Once I have seen him he will not live a moment." Death's words reveal his nature: a mere glance from him means death. He lists the great ones he has taken, demon kings, royal seers, the whole earth at the end of an age, many of them figures from the old stories, such as Hiraṇyakaśipu slain by Narasiṁha, Vṛtra by Indra, and Bali bound by the dwarf, and the list is meant to show how small Rāvaṇa is: "what then of this night-ranger?" Yet Death shows a kind of humility too: he claims no pride in his strength but calls killing his nature, a law and not a feat. He asks Yama's leave, for he is not free but subject to Dharmarāja, and so the order of Yama's world is shown, with Yama addressed as "knower of dharma" for his justice. If Death were to look on Rāvaṇa he should die; but because of the boon even that was impossible, as Brahmā will soon make clear.

Hearing him, the mighty Dharmarāja said to Death, "Stay; I will kill him myself." Then the lord Vaivasvata, his eyes red with anger, raised in his hand the unfailing Rod of Time, with the Nooses of Time set at its sides and the hammer, like fire and thunderbolt, standing by in bodily form: the rod whose mere sight draws out the life of living beings, so what of one it touches or falls on? Wreathed in flames, as though it would burn the rākṣasa up, that great weapon flashed in the mighty god's grasp, like a living thing. Then everyone fled the battlefield in terror, and even the gods were shaken to see Yama with the rod raised. Yama's refusing Death and taking up the rod himself shows his anger at its height; his army had been destroyed, and in his pride he would take revenge in person. The rod is dreadful: to see it is death, let alone to be struck by it, and the flight even of the gods shows that it destroys everything, not Rāvaṇa alone. It is called unfailing, and that is exactly what will trouble Brahmā. This is the decisive moment of the battle, for if the rod falls, Rāvaṇa's death is certain; and the poet pauses here to heighten the suspense.

As Yama was about to strike Rāvaṇa with the rod, the Grandsire appeared in person and said: "Vaivasvata, mighty-armed, of boundless valour, you must not kill this night-ranger with this rod. I have given him a boon, bull among the gods, and you must not make false the word I have spoken. Whoever makes me a liar, god or man, makes the three worlds false; there is no doubt of it. Once released in anger, this fearsome rod, the terror of the three worlds, destroys creatures without distinguishing friend from foe. This Rod of Time, of boundless splendour, unfailing against all living beings, I myself created long ago, with Death at its head. So it must not be brought down on Rāvaṇa's head, gentle one, for when it falls no one lives even a moment. If it falls and the rākṣasa does not die, or if Daśagrīva dies, then either way there is falsehood. So turn this raised rod away from the lord of Laṅkā, and if you care for the worlds, keep my word true today." Brahmā's reasoning is subtle. The rod never fails, and the boon is true; if the rod falls, then either Rāvaṇa dies and the boon is false, or he lives and the rod's unfailing power is false. So the only way is for the rod not to fall. Here the greatness of truth is shown: Brahmā's word is the foundation of the three worlds, and if it were broken the truth of all the worlds would perish. The rod, too, spares no one, friend or foe, so its use might destroy the worlds themselves. Brahmā honours Yama as "bull among the gods" and soothes him as "gentle one", so that his command is really a courteous request. Both the rod and the boon were Brahmā's own creations, and he himself resolves the conflict between them. So Rāvaṇa was saved by Brahmā's boon, not by his own strength. And the root question of the Rāmāyaṇa is quietly answered here: Rāvaṇa could not be killed by the gods, and Yama too is a god, so only a man, Rāma, could slay him. Brahmā's words point to why Rāma had to be born.

At this the righteous Yama replied: "There, the rod is withdrawn, for you are our master. But if he cannot be killed by me because he is protected by a boon, what can I do now in this battle? So I shall vanish from this rākṣasa's sight." With these words he disappeared on the spot, with his chariot and horses. Daśagrīva, thinking he had conquered him, proclaimed his own name, mounted Puṣpaka again and went out from Yama's abode. And Vaivasvata went joyfully to heaven with the gods led by Brahmā, and so did the great sage Nārada. Yama's righteousness shows here: he honours Brahmā's word and masters his own anger. But he does not stand before Rāvaṇa like a defeated foe; he vanishes, which is his way of keeping his dignity, for "vanish" here means to become invisible, not to perish. Rāvaṇa, as before, took the withdrawal for a victory and proclaimed his name, but the reader knows he was saved only by Brahmā's boon. At the end of the sarga all are content: Yama for having done his duty, Brahmā for having kept his boon true, and Nārada for having satisfied his curiosity.