माल्यवतः तिरस्कारः लङ्कारक्षाव्यवस्था च

But ten-headed Rāvaṇa, wicked and already in the grip of Time, could not bear Mālyavān's well-meant words. Overcome by anger, he knitted his brows into a frown and, his eyes rolling with rage, said to Mālyavān: "These harsh and harmful words, spoken as if for my good — you have said them only because you have gone over to the enemy. They have not reached my ears; I will not listen. What makes you think Rāma is capable of anything — a wretched mortal, all alone, dependent on monkeys, cast off by his father and living in the forest? And what makes you think I am the weaker — I, lord of the rākṣasas, the terror of the gods, lacking in no kind of valour?" "In the grip of Time," the poet says at the very start of the sarga, foretelling Rāvaṇa's ruin: a man driven by Time will not listen to good advice. His words for Rāma — a mortal, wretched, alone, dependent on monkeys, cast off by his father — all mirror his own arrogance, for he takes the very things that are Rāma's strength as proofs of his weakness. The charge that Mālyavān has gone over to the enemy is a grave one: he counts even his own grandfather a partisan of the other side. Mālyavān had said Rāma was Viṣṇu, and Rāvaṇa's answer is simply "a mortal." The frown and the rolling eyes paint anger in the body itself.

"I suspect you have spoken harshly to me out of jealousy of a hero, or partiality for the enemy, or because the enemy put you up to it. What learned man who knows the heart of the śāstras would speak harshly to a powerful king secure on his throne unless someone had put him up to it? I brought Sītā from the forest, like Śrī without her lotus — why should I give her back out of fear of Rāghava? In a few days you will see Rāghava, with his crores of monkeys, killed by me along with Sugrīva and Lakṣmaṇa. Why should Rāvaṇa, before whom even the gods cannot stand in single combat, feel any fear in battle? I would sooner be broken in two than bow to anyone; that is my inborn fault, a nature I cannot overcome. If Rāma happened to build a bridge across the ocean, what is so wonderful in that, that you should be afraid? Rāma has crossed the ocean with his monkey army, and I promise you truly: he will not go back alive." "I would sooner be broken in two than bow" is the essence of Rāvaṇa's character: he knows his fault, yet proclaims it as though it were a virtue. "Śrī without her lotus" echoes the image used of Sītā before, "Śrī with the lotus fallen from her hand" — even in Rāvaṇa's eyes she is the goddess of fortune herself. By saying Rāma built the bridge "by chance," he treats Rāma's feat as a stroke of luck. His vow that Rāma will not go back alive is full of irony, for in truth it is Rāvaṇa who will not live. His threefold charge — jealousy of a hero, partiality for the enemy, the enemy's instigation — has no basis at all; Mālyavān had spoken only for his good. And in boasting that even the gods cannot face him in single combat, he forgets that those battles were won by the power of a boon, a boon that gives him no protection from men.

Seeing Rāvaṇa so furious and enraged, Mālyavān was abashed and gave no answer. He wished the king victory and honoured him as was fitting, and with his leave went home. His silence is wisdom: he knows that words are wasted on an angry fool. Insulted as he is, he does not forget the respect due to the king, and leaves only after wishing him victory. In this he is like Śuka and Sāraṇa — truthful, yet courteous. And his shame is not for himself but for the folly of his daughter's son.

Then Rāvaṇa, after consulting and deliberating with his ministers, arranged the defence of Laṅkā. He stationed the rākṣasa Prahasta at the eastern gate, and the two mighty warriors Mahāpārśva and Mahodara at the southern. At the western gate he posted his son Indrajit, the great magician, surrounded by many rākṣasas. He assigned Śuka and Sāraṇa to the northern city gate, and told his ministers, "I myself will go there too." In the central encampment he placed the rākṣasa Virūpākṣa, of great strength and valour, with many rākṣasas. When he had made these arrangements in Laṅkā, that bull among rākṣasas, driven by Time, thought his work as good as done. After ordering ample provision for the city he dismissed his ministers, and, honoured by them with wishes for victory, he went into his vast and opulent inner apartments. Placing commanders at the four gates and in the centre shows how carefully the defence was organised, and in the next sarga Vibhīṣaṇa will report this very plan to Rāma. Each gate has its chosen warrior: Prahasta the commander in the east, Indrajit the magician in the west, the brothers Mahāpārśva and Mahodara in the south, and Rāvaṇa himself in the north — and Rāma, the next sarga decides, will attack there too. Note that Śuka and Sāraṇa, driven out before, are now taken back into service at the northern gate, while Virūpākṣa in the centre is like a reserve gathered to support all the gates. Rāvaṇa thinks himself successful, but "driven by Time" exposes his delusion, and his retiring to the women's quarters on the eve of battle is a sign of both his self-confidence and his love of pleasure.