विभीषणकृतः कुम्भकर्णपरिचयः

Then Rāma, of great splendour and valour, took up his bow and saw the huge, crowned Kumbhakarṇa. That foremost of rākṣasas looked like a mountain, like Nārāyaṇa of old striding across the sky — the image of Viṣṇu's three great strides tells how vast his body was. Dark as a cloud full of rain and adorned with golden armlets, he came into view, and the great monkey army fled once more, as it had at the end of the last sarga. Seeing his army in flight and the rākṣasa growing ever larger as he came nearer, as a mountain seen from afar grows as one approaches, Rāma in astonishment said to Vibhīṣaṇa: "Who is that hero, like a mountain, crowned and with tawny eyes, who looms up in Laṅkā like a cloud flashing with lightning?" — the lightning being the gleam of gold on his dark body. "He stands here like a single great banner raised over the earth, and at the sight of him all the monkeys are running this way and that. Tell me, who is that enormous being — a rākṣasa or an asura? I have never seen a creature like this before." Even Rāma, who had seen Khara, Dūṣaṇa and rākṣasas by the thousand, was amazed, and his doubt whether this was a rākṣasa or an asura shows how unheard of such a body was even among rākṣasas. He asked Vibhīṣaṇa because the refugee knew all the secrets of the rākṣasas; here the value of the one who had come to him for shelter is plain. The poet sets the scene in order — Rāma takes up his bow, sees the enemy, sees his army flee, and asks — and the battlefield comes alive before the reader. Questioned by the prince of tireless deeds, the wise Vibhīṣaṇa answered Kākutstha; he is called wise because his answer would bring not only an account of the enemy but a plan.

"The one who defeated Yama, son of Vivasvat, and Indra in battle — that is the son of Viśravas, the mighty Kumbhakarṇa. No other rākṣasa is his equal in size. Gods and dānavas, yakṣas and serpents, flesh-eating rākṣasas, gandharvas, vidyādharas and kiṃnaras he has routed in battle by the thousand, Rāghava" — so long a list shows how the dread of him had spread through every world. "The gods themselves could not kill Kumbhakarṇa as he stood, spear in hand and hideous of eye, for they were bewildered, thinking, 'This is Time itself'" — to see him was like seeing death. "This Kumbhakarṇa is mighty and powerful by nature; the strength of the other rākṣasa lords comes from boons." That is the key difference: Rāvaṇa and the rest had grown strong through boons won by penance, but Kumbhakarṇa's strength was his from birth. "The moment he was born, while still a child, this great being was tormented by hunger and devoured many thousands of creatures" — "great" here meaning huge in body, not good. "As they were being devoured, the creatures, stricken with fear, went to Indra for refuge and told him what was happening." That hunger from birth was the root of his nature, and it would be the cause of the curse. Vibhīṣaṇa described his own brother fairly, praising his strength and hiding none of his faults, and that truthfulness in a refugee made him worthy of Rāma's trust.

"Great Indra, wielder of the thunderbolt, was enraged and struck Kumbhakarṇa with his sharp bolt. Struck by Indra's thunderbolt, the great being only reeled and roared loudly in his fury, and when they heard him bellowing again and again, the frightened creatures trembled all the more. Then mighty Kumbhakarṇa in his rage tore a tusk out of Airāvata, great Indra's elephant, and struck Indra on the chest with it." Let the listener imagine for himself the strength of a body the thunderbolt could not pierce; and to strike Indra with his own elephant's tusk was the height of insult. So both the might of his body and the might of his roar are shown. "Indra burned with the pain of Kumbhakarṇa's blow, and at once the gods, the brahmin seers and the dānavas were cast down. Then Indra went with the creatures to the abode of Brahmā the Self-born" — king of the gods though he was, he took refuge with the creator, where his own strength was not enough — "and they told Prajāpati of Kumbhakarṇa's wickedness: how he devoured creatures, assaulted the gods, wrecked hermitages, and was forever carrying off other men's wives." That last charge shows the nature of the whole family, and recalls Rāvaṇa's carrying off of Sītā. "Indra said, 'If he goes on devouring creatures like this every day, the world will soon be empty.'" Indra's concern was not only his own defeat but the ruin of all creatures — the very survival of creation was at stake.

"Hearing Indra's words, the Grandsire of all the worlds summoned the rākṣasas and saw Kumbhakarṇa. The moment he looked at him, Prajāpati himself was frightened" — a being who could frighten the creator himself was terrible beyond compare. "Then, recovering, the Self-born said to Kumbhakarṇa: 'Surely Paulastya begot you to destroy the worlds. From this day on, therefore, you shall sleep like one dead.' Overcome by Brahmā's curse, Kumbhakarṇa fell down then and there before the lord. Then Rāvaṇa, greatly alarmed, said: 'A golden tree that has grown to full size is not cut down just when its fruit is due. It is not right, Prajāpati, to curse your own descendant like this.'" By the golden tree Rāvaṇa meant that Kumbhakarṇa was the family's fruit-bearing treasure, and by calling him Brahmā's descendant he appealed to his affection: Pulastya was Brahmā's mind-born son, so the sons of Viśravas were Brahmā's great-grandsons. "'Your words are never false; he will sleep, no doubt of it. But let a time be fixed for his sleeping and his waking.' Hearing Rāvaṇa, the Self-born said: 'He shall sleep for six months and wake for a single day. In that one day this hero will roam the earth in hunger with his mouth gaping and may devour the worlds like a fire grown great.'" Rāvaṇa was shrewd even here: he did not ask for the curse to be lifted, only for a fixed term, so that Brahmā's word stayed true and his brother's life was saved. Brahmā granted it, yet even his answer carries a warning, for on that one day he might devour the world. The story of the curse explains two things at once: why Kumbhakarṇa slept so long, and why the rākṣasas had such trouble waking him. And for this reason, woken out of season today, he would be hard to stop.

"Now King Rāvaṇa, fallen into distress and afraid of your valour, has woken Kumbhakarṇa" — Vibhīṣaṇa saw clearly that it was Rāvaṇa's fear that had made him do it. "This is that hero of fearful might, come out of his quarters; in a towering rage he is rushing about devouring the monkeys. At the mere sight of Kumbhakarṇa the monkeys have fled today; how will they hold him back in battle when he is angry? So let all the monkeys be told, 'That is only a huge machine set up on high, not a real rākṣasa.' Knowing that, the monkeys here will lose their fear." Vibhīṣaṇa's counsel was practical: where an enemy could hardly be met by force, the fear he caused could be met by a trick of the mind. Keeping back the truth to keep an army's courage is one of the arts of war. The word "machine" recalls the great engines used in the wars of those days, frightening from afar but lifeless; if the monkeys took him for a wooden contraption rather than a living devourer, their fear would shrink. The fruit of this counsel follows at once, as Rāma orders his army into array.

Hearing Vibhīṣaṇa's well-reasoned words, Rāghava turned to Nīla, the commander of the army, and said: "Go, son of Fire" — the address recalls that Nīla was Agni's son — "draw up all the troops in array and hold your ground. Seize the gates of Laṅkā, its highways, its roads and its bridges. Let all the monkeys gather mountain peaks, trees and rocks, and stand armed, rocks in hand." Here Rāma's leadership shows: when fear arose he did not allow flight, but formed an array and blocked the gates, highways and bridges so that the enemy could not even get out. Instructed by Rāghava, Nīla, commander of the monkey army and elephant among monkeys, marshalled the monkey host as it should be done. Then Gavākṣa, Śarabha, Hanumān and Aṅgada, themselves like mountains, took up mountain peaks and advanced to the gate — carrying peaks, they looked like peaks. Hearing Rāma's command, the monkey heroes, sure of victory, harried the enemy host with trees; their only weapons were rocks and trees, yet their spirit was high. And that fierce army of monkeys, rocks and trees raised in their hands, looked like a great, fierce mass of storm-clouds gathered close about a mountain: as clouds wrap a mountain, so the monkeys wrapped the gates of Laṅkā. The army that had fled a moment before now stood ready again at Rāma's command, the courage of its leader passing into it, and the stage was set for Kumbhakarṇa's battle.