सुवेलारोहणम्

Having made up his mind to climb Suvela, Rāma, with Lakṣmaṇa following him, spoke in gentle and excellent words to Sugrīva and to the night-ranger Vibhīṣaṇa, who was devoted to him, knew dharma, and was skilled in counsel and in procedure. "Let us all climb this great mountain Suvela, covered with hundreds of minerals, and spend the night here. From here we will look upon Laṅkā, home of that rākṣasa, the wicked one who carried off my wife and so brought about his own death." Then Rāma remembered Rāvaṇa's wrongs. "He has known neither dharma nor right conduct nor what is owed to his family; only with a rākṣasa's base mind could he have done that contemptible deed. My anger rises whenever that vilest of rākṣasas is named. For the crime of that one base creature I shall see all the rākṣasas slaughtered. One alone, caught in the noose of Death, commits the sin, and through his own misconduct his whole race perishes." The poet shows that Rāma's anger is not personal but for the defence of dharma. The seed of what is to come is sown here too: Rāvaṇa will be the cause of the ruin of the whole rākṣasa race, and the saying that one man's fault destroys a whole family holds true in every age. There is calm in Rāma's words as well: before the battle he wants to see the enemy's city, not rush in headlong. Vibhīṣaṇa's epithets — knowing dharma, skilled in counsel and procedure — confirm that he can be trusted, rākṣasa though he is, and his counsel will serve well in the war. Rāma does not speak Rāvaṇa's name himself; he says only "that rākṣasa," "the wicked one," "the vilest of rākṣasas," and so shows his contempt. "Who carried off my wife to his own death" declares that the abduction of Sītā will be the cause of Rāvaṇa's death, so that this resolve marks not just the climbing of a mountain but the beginning of the war.

Still speaking of Rāvaṇa in anger, Rāma climbed Suvela with its bright slopes to spend the night there. Behind him, alert, came Lakṣmaṇa, bow and arrow raised, intent on great deeds of valour. After them climbed Sugrīva with his ministers, and Vibhīṣaṇa; and Hanūmān, Aṅgada, Nīla, Mainda and Dvivida, Gaja, Gavākṣa, Gavaya, Śarabha, Gandhamādana, Panasa, Kumuda, Hara and the troop-leader Rambha, Jāmbavān, Suṣeṇa, the wise Ṛṣabha, the mighty Durmukha and the monkey Śatavali. These and many other monkeys, swift as the wind and at home on the mountains, climbed in their hundreds to where Rāghava was, and before long they had climbed the mountain on every side and stood there. The poet counts off the troop-leaders to show the size of the army and the number of its heroes, and the order is meaningful too: first Sugrīva with Vibhīṣaṇa, then the chief commanders, then the monkeys in their hundreds, so that the ranks of the army stand out clearly. Lakṣmaṇa's raised bow shows his constant watchfulness: even on the way to rest he is ready to guard Rāma. For monkeys at home on the mountains the climb was easy, and they soon reached the top. Angry as he is, Rāma does not lose his self-control: he climbs the mountain first to rest, not to attack at once. That is sound tactics — see how the enemy's city lies, rest the army, and only then strike. The monkeys are swift as the wind and eager for battle, yet they follow Rāma's command, and that all the troop-leaders want to be near him shows their devotion.

From its summit the monkey leaders saw a city that seemed to hang in the sky: Laṅkā, lovely, with fine gates, adorned with splendid ramparts and crowded with rākṣasas. Dark rākṣasas were posted on its excellent ramparts, so that the monkeys seemed to see a second rampart built on top of the first. Seeing those rākṣasas eager for battle, all the monkeys let loose great shouts of every kind while Rāma watched. The "second rampart" shows how many the rākṣasas were and how still they stood. Seen from that height Laṅkā seemed to hang in the sky, for it stood on the summit of Mount Trikūṭa. In the Sundara Kāṇḍa Hanūmān alone had entered Laṅkā; now the whole monkey army saw the city with its own eyes. Their shouts at the sight of the enemy show their zeal and fearlessness and strike fear into the rākṣasas; and they shout in Rāma's very presence, for his nearness is their strength.

Then the sun, reddened by twilight, went down, and the night came on, lit by the full moon. Rāma, lord of the monkey host, was welcomed and honoured by Vibhīṣaṇa, and he spent the night at ease on the heights of Suvela with Lakṣmaṇa, surrounded by the troops of the troop-leaders. This quiet full-moon night before the war is the opposite of the terrible battle to come. Vibhīṣaṇa honours Rāma like a host, for he is the future lord of Laṅkā; and the poet closes the sarga with this peaceful picture of rest.