रामलक्ष्मणयोः शरबन्धः पतनं च

Seeking to find where the vanished Indrajit had gone, the mighty and valiant prince Rāma, scorcher of foes, sent out ten monkey troop-leaders: the two sons of Suṣeṇa, Nīla, lord of the monkeys, Aṅgada son of Vālin, the swift Śarabha, Dvivida, Hanūmān, the mighty Sānuprastha, and Ṛṣabha with shoulders like a bull's. Delighted, those monkeys raised terrible trees and rose into the sky, searching all ten directions. The previous sarga told briefly how the invisible Indrajit bound Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa; this sarga tells the same events at length, as is the way of the epic. Rāma sends monkeys to hunt the unseen enemy because they can travel through the air and search the sky itself. All ten are famous heroes — Hanūmān, Aṅgada, Nīla, Dvivida and the rest — which shows how formidable the enemy was, since only the best were sent after him. Ṛṣabha's epithet plays on his name, which means "bull." The monkeys set out full of zeal at Rāma's command, but their efforts will come to nothing.

But the son of Rāvaṇa, master of weapons, checked the speed of those swift monkeys with swifter arrows and with his supreme weapons. Torn and wounded all over by iron shafts, the monkeys of terrible speed could not see him in the darkness, any more than one can see the sun hidden behind clouds. Then Indrajit, victor in battle, drove arrows that pierced every part of the body deep into Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa alone. In his fury he left not a gap on the bodies of the two heroes, with serpents that had become arrows, and blood streamed from their wounds, so that both of them shone like kiṃśuka trees in flower. Then Indrajit, still invisible, his eyes red at the corners with rage and dark as a heap of crushed collyrium, spoke to the brothers. The monkeys fail: for all their strength, they cannot see an invisible foe — the sun is there behind the clouds, but cannot be seen. The arrows are serpents and the serpents are arrows; that is the nature of the serpent-noose. The kiṃśuka's red flowers stand for the two blood-soaked heroes, beauty and pity in one image. Indrajit's tactics are twofold: first he drives off the monkeys searching for him, then he strikes his real targets, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa — keep the guards away and strike the leader.

"When I fight unseen, even Indra, lord of the thirty gods, cannot see me or come near me, let alone you two. Caught in my net of heron-feathered arrows, you two Rāghavas — I, in my fury, am sending you now to the house of Yama." With these words he pierced the two brothers Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, who knew dharma so well, with sharp arrows, and he exulted and roared. Dark as a heap of crushed collyrium, he drew his great bow and in that great battle let loose still more terrible arrows. Then that hero, who knew where the vital spots lay, sank sharp arrows again and again into the vitals of Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, roaring as he did so, and bound by that bond of arrows in the forefront of battle, the two of them could not, even for the twinkling of an eye, lift their eyes to look. Indrajit's boast names Indra because he had once conquered him: "even Indra cannot see me," he says, and "let alone you two" shows his contempt for mere men. The poet calls the brothers "knowers of dharma" here to stir our pity: righteous as they are, they have been bound by unrighteous means. Indrajit "knows the vital spots" and aims at them, a mark of his skill, and his exulting and roaring are set against Rāma's suffering. He speaks while unseen: his voice is heard but he is nowhere to be seen, a terrifying scene that fills the monkeys with dread.

Covered with arrowheads, pierced in every limb, the two brothers trembled like Indra's two festival banners when the ropes are let go. Shaken and weakened by the wounds in their vitals, the two great archers, lords of the earth, fell to the earth. The two heroes lay on the bed of heroes, drenched in blood, every limb wrapped in arrows, suffering and in terrible pain. Not a finger's breadth of their bodies was left unpierced; to the very tips of their hands, there was nothing the straight-flying arrows had not torn or wounded. Struck down by that cruel rākṣasa who could take any form, they poured out blood like two waterfalls pouring water. Rāma fell first, pierced in his vitals by the arrows of Indrajit, the one who long ago had conquered Indra. He had pierced Rāma with arrows of every kind: gold-feathered, bright-pointed arrows that flew swift as dust, iron shafts and half-shafts, broad-headed bhallas and añjalikas, calf-tooth and lion-tooth arrows and razor-heads. The two banners recall the ancient festival of Indra's banner, at whose end the ropes were loosed and the banner brought down; so these heroes fell. "Lords of the earth fell upon the earth" is a play of words. Not a finger's breadth unpierced is exaggeration that shows how completely the arrows wrapped them. Rāma falls first because the chief hero was the first target. Their blood flows like water from two waterfalls — the heroes are like mountains and their blood like streams, an image that shows at once their greatness and their suffering. And Indrajit's old fame, "the one who once defeated Indra," is recalled to make clear how Rāma could fall.

Rāma lay on the bed of heroes, having let fall his gold-adorned bow, bent in three places, its string gone and its grip slack. Seeing Rāma, bull among men, fallen a bowshot away from him, Lakṣmaṇa despaired of his own life. Seeing his brother lying on the ground — lotus-eyed Rāma, the refuge of all, who delighted in battle — he grieved. The monkeys too were plunged in deep distress when they saw him; stricken with grief, their eyes full of tears, they cried out terribly. They stood around the two bound heroes lying on the bed of heroes, and gathered there, led by the son of the Wind, they sank into deep despair. Here the pathos reaches its height. Rāma's bow, bent at the middle and at both ends, lies unstrung, the sign of an archer's defeat. Lakṣmaṇa, bound himself, thinks not of himself but of his brother; he despairs of his life because without Rāma life has no meaning for him. Rāma is called "the refuge of all" — he who shelters everyone is now helpless — and "who delighted in battle" — he who rejoiced in war has fallen in war. The monkeys' weeping proves their love for Rāma. They are led by the Wind's son, Hanūmān, who, as the reader knows, will later bring the healing herbs; and the sarga closes on the depth of their despair.