Ravana, the supreme lord of this and other worlds, sat in his
durbar hall, surrounded by a vast throng of courtiers and
attendants. The kings of this earth whom he had reduced to
vassalage stood about with their hands upraised in an
attitude of perpetual salutation, lest at any moment Ravana
should turn in their direction and think that they were not
sufficiently servile. Beauties gathered from all the worlds
surrounded him, singing, dancing, ministering to his wants,
ever ready to give him pleasure and service, with all their
eyes fixed on him watching for the slightest sign of
command. Every minute vast quantities of flowers were
rained on him by his admirers. He had also enslaved the
reigning gods and put them to perform menial tasks in his
court. Among them Vayu, the god of wind, was there to blow
away faded flowers and garlands, and generally sweep the
hall clean. Yama, the god of death, was employed to sound
the gong each hour to tell the time of day.
The god of fire was in charge of all illumination and kept lamps, incense,
and camphor flames alit. The Kalpataru, the magic tree that
yielded any wish, taken away from Indra, was also there to
serve Ravana. Sage Narada sat there gently playing his
veena. The gurus—Brihaspathi, who guided the gods, and Sukracharya, who guided the asuras—men possessing the finest intellects, were also there ready to advise Ravana
when asked and to act generally as soothsayers.
Into this setting crashed Soorpanaka, screaming so loudly
that all the men, women, and children of the city came
rushing out of their homes and crowded the northern portal of
the palace, where Soorpanaka had made her entry. She
dashed up and fell before Ravana's throne, crying, "See
what has happened to me!"
When Ravana observed her state, he thundered, "What is
the meaning of this? Who has done it?"—in such a tone that
all nature shrank and slunk away from the scene. Gods held
their breath unable to gauge the upheaval that would follow
when Ravana struck in revenge. While everyone in the
assembly held his breath and waited, Ravana inquired with
deliberate calmness, "Who has done this to you?"
Soorpanaka explained in detail and concluded, referring
to Rama, "Even if I had a thousand tongues, I could never
fully explain his beauty and the grandeur of his personality.
Even if one had a thousand eyes one could not take in the
splendor of this being. His strength is unmatched. Single-
handed he wiped out all our army." She realized that she had
made a blunder revealing too much of her inner feelings for
Rama and corrected herself by adding, "For all his looks,
what a cruel heart he has! His mission in life is to wipe out
our whole family, clan, class from the face of this earth.""Ah," cried Ravana, challenged. "We will see about that.
But tell me why he did this to you. How did you provoke
him?"
"He has a woman who should be yours. If you win her I fear
all your present favorites will be thrown out. I also fear that
you will surrender to her all your powers, valor,
possessions, and conquests and make yourself her abject
devotee. Her name is Sita. I was so overcome by her beauty
that I waited and watched for a chance and attempted to
snatch her and bring her to you as a present."
Ravana's interest shifted from revenge to love and he
said, "Why didn't you?"
"When I seized her, this man's brother—Ah! how strong he
was!—fell on me and slashed my face."
"Tell me all about her… ." Ravana commanded, ignoring
all other issues.
Soorpanaka described Sita from head to toe in minute
detail. The picture she conjured up was convincing and
Ravana fell madly in love with her image. He became
restless and unhappy. Every syllable that Soorpanaka
uttered gave him both pleasure and pain. Soorpanaka urged
him to set forth and capture Sita. Finally she said, "When you
have succeeded in getting that woman, keep her for yourself;
but be sure to surrender the man Rama to my hands. I'll deal
with him." She had no doubt that her strategy to separate
Sita from Rama was going to succeed and then Rama
would naturally turn to her for love.
Ravana felt uneasy. He rose abruptly and left the hall,
unwilling to let the assembly notice his state of mind. They
rained flowers on him and uttered blessings and recited his
glory as usual when he strode down the passage. His ten
heads were held erect and his eyes looked straight ahead,
not noticing the people standing about in respectful array; his
mind was seething with ideas for the conquest of Sita.
Soorpanaka's words had lit an all-consuming flame within
him. He ignored his wives, who were awaiting his favours,
and passed on to his own private chamber, where he shut
the door and flung himself on his luxurious bed. He lay there
tossing, unable to rid his mind of the figure conjured up by
Soorpanaka's words. It was a total obsession; he felt
tormented and raged against his surroundings, which
appeared to aggravate his suffering. Presently he realized
that his bed and the chamber were uninhabitable. The place
seemed to be scorching hot. He got up and moved out
unceremoniously to the woods, leaving his attendants and
aides wondering what kind of seizure was driving him hither
and thither. He moved to his garden house of pure marble
and gold set amidst towering palmyra and flowering trees,
and lay down on a pure white satin bed. When they saw him
arrive, cuckoos and parrots in the trees silenced themselves.
The late winter with its light mist and cool wind proved
uncomfortable to Ravana, who shouted at it the question,"What wretched season are you?"—whereupon the weather
changed to early summer, a rather unwilling summer
ushered in prematurely. One who found the wintry day too
warm naturally found even the spring unbearable. Ravana
cried out, "I do not want this weather. Let the monsoons
come immediately."