Kumbhakarna, mightiest among the rakshasas and rivaling even Indra in strength, seized Sugriva, the monkey king, in his powerful grasp. As he held Sugriva, Kumbhakarna thought to himself, "If I slay this lord of the monkeys, the entire monkey army, along with Rama, will be destroyed." Witnessing their king captured and seeing Kumbhakarna's terrifying might, the monkey forces scattered in fear and confusion, their hearts filled with dismay. Amidst the chaos, Hanuman, the wise son of the wind-god, paused to consider the situation: "With Sugriva taken, what should I do now? Whatever is right, I must do. Assuming a form as vast as a mountain, I can destroy this rakshasa." He pondered further, "If I slay the mighty Kumbhakarna in battle, shattering his body with my fists and freeing the monkey king, all the monkeys will rejoice. Yet, perhaps Sugriva may free himself, even if seized by gods, asuras, or serpents. Right now, Sugriva seems unaware of himself, stunned by a blow from Kumbhakarna as powerful as a mountain. Soon, in this great conflict, he will regain his senses and act for his own and the monkeys' welfare. But if I were to rescue Sugriva, it might bring him shame and lasting dishonor. Therefore, I will wait a moment to see the valor of the one who frees himself, and in the meantime, I will rally our scattered troops." Thus resolved, Hanuman, son of Vayu, set about encouraging and gathering the fleeing monkey army. Meanwhile, Kumbhakarna entered the city of Lanka, carrying the struggling Sugriva. From the palaces, mansions, and gateways, showers of the finest flowers rained down in honor of the rakshasa's feat. As they processed through the royal avenues, Sugriva, revived by the coolness and the sprinkling of parched grain and fragrant powders, gradually regained consciousness. Now aware, though still held tightly in Kumbhakarna’s arms, Sugriva looked around the royal road and pondered his next move: "Now that I am seized, how can I act? Still, I must do whatever is most beneficial for the monkeys." Suddenly, with fierce resolve, the king of the monkeys attacked his captor—he bit Kumbhakarna's ears with his sharp teeth, tore at his nose with his fangs, and raked his sides with his powerful feet. Kumbhakarna, wounded and enraged, his ears and nose torn away and his body soaked in blood, seized Sugriva and hurled him to the ground. Yet, Sugriva, though crushed to earth by this mighty foe, sprang up like a ball, leapt into the sky, and swiftly returned to Rama. Now Kumbhakarna, deprived of ears and nose, appeared fearsome—his body drenched in blood, shining like a mountain with crimson streams. Still terrifying in appearance, he turned his wrath back to the battle. Ravana’s brother, blood streaming in his anger, shone like a mass of dark clouds tinged with the glow of evening. Burning with rage, the enemy of the gods rushed again to battle. Realizing he was unarmed, he seized a great club. With renewed energy, Kumbhakarna burst forth from the city and entered the fierce army of monkeys. Like the fire of destruction at the end of an age, he began to devour the monkey warriors. Driven by hunger and greed for blood and flesh, and maddened by battle, he consumed not only monkeys, but rakshasas, pishachas, and bears alike—just as Death indiscriminately seizes all beings at the end of time. Even the chief monkeys fell to his voracious appetite. In his fury, Kumbhakarna would seize one, two, three, or even many at once, rakshasas and monkeys alike, and quickly toss them into his mouth. Though struck by the peaks of great mountains hurled by the monkeys, his body streaming with fat and blood, Kumbhakarna continued his dreadful feast. The monkeys, terrified and being eaten, fled to Rama for refuge, while Kumbhakarna, even more enraged, ran about devouring them. With his massive arms, he seized seven hundred, eight hundred, twenty, thirty monkeys at a time, running wild and eating as he went. His body was smeared with fat, marrow, and blood, garlands of entrails hung from his ears, and with his sharp fangs he rained down destruction like Time itself, fierce at the end of an age. At this critical moment, Lakshmana, son of Sumitra and destroyer of enemy hosts, enraged, entered the fray. Lakshmana drove seven arrows into Kumbhakarna’s body, then took up more and let them fly. Tormented by these special missiles, the rakshasa grew furious, and Lakshmana’s own anger blazed forth. Kumbhakarna’s radiant golden armor became covered in arrows, as evening clouds are covered by the wind. Pressed by arrows dark as collyrium and adorned with golden ornaments, he shone like the sun surrounded by clouds. The formidable rakshasa, increasing Sumitra’s joy, spoke with disdain, his voice thundering like a mass of clouds: "Even Death himself would find it difficult to defeat me in battle. By fighting me without fear, you have shown great valor. One who stands armed in battle, like Death himself in a great conflict, is worthy of honor—even more so one who offers battle. Even Indra, mounted on Airavata and surrounded by all the gods, has never stood against me in battle. "Today, O Saumitri, I am pleased by your prowess, though you are young. I wish to seek permission from Rāghava before departing. Though I am satisfied by your courage, strength, and enthusiasm in battle, I desire only to slay Rāma, for with him slain, all is slain.