Hanuman, swift as the wind, had thrown down the fierce Nikumbha and subdued him completely. With a mighty leap, he landed forcefully upon Nikumbha’s chest. Seizing the demon’s neck with both arms, Hanuman twisted and tore off the terrible, roaring head. As Nikumbha’s lifeless body crashed to the ground, his final roar echoed across the battlefield. In that moment, a fresh and dreadful conflict erupted—Dasharatha’s son, Rama, and the son of the king of the rakshasas, both burning with wrath, clashed fiercely. With Nikumbha slain, a wave of joy swept through the monkey army. Their triumphant shouts resounded in all directions, so loud that the very earth seemed to tremble and the sky threatened to fall. Terror gripped the hearts of the rakshasas. Now, hear the next episode in the glorious Valmiki Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda. When news reached Ravana that both Nikumbha and Kumbha had fallen, the lord of the rakshasas was consumed by a blaze of anger and grief. His fury burned like fire as he summoned Makaraksha, the wide-eyed son of Khara. “Go, my son,” Ravana commanded, “Take your army and destroy Raghava and Lakshmana, those two dwellers of the forest.” Makaraksha, fearless and resolute, bowed to the ten-headed king and replied, “So be it.” Circumambulating Ravana in reverence, the mighty rakshasa departed from the shining palace, intent upon his task. He called to the nearby commander, “Quickly, bring my chariot and assemble the troops at once!” Responding to his command, the night-dwelling commander brought forth the chariot and gathered the army. Makaraksha circled his chariot respectfully, mounted it, and urged his charioteer to drive swiftly into battle. Addressing the assembled rakshasas, Makaraksha declared, “All of you, fight ahead of me! The great-souled Ravana has ordered me to slay both Rama and Lakshmana in battle. Today I will destroy Rama, Lakshmana, Sugriva the monkey-king, and the monkeys with my arrows. Today I will burn up the great army of monkeys with showers of spears, as fire consumes dry fuel.” Inspired by his words, the powerful and determined rakshasas armed themselves with various weapons. These fierce, shape-shifting, sharp-toothed, tawny-eyed warriors, with wild hair and roars like elephants, struck terror into all who beheld them. Encircling the formidable son of Khara, they advanced joyfully, shaking the earth with their march. A tremendous sound arose—thousands of conches and drums thundered, mingled with shouts and the clashing of weapons. Yet, ill omens appeared: the whip slipped from the charioteer’s hand, and the demon’s banner fell suddenly. The horses, drained of strength, stumbled and wept, their faces downcast. As the fierce and evil-minded Makaraksha set out, a harsh wind filled with dust and gravel swept through the air. Despite these portents, the bravest rakshasas, undaunted, marched out to face Rama and Lakshmana. Their bodies, dark as storm clouds or wild buffaloes, moved through the front lines, striking and being struck by maces and spears, each warrior proclaiming his own prowess. Now, hear the next episode in the glorious Valmiki Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda. As Makaraksha advanced, the foremost of the monkeys leapt up eagerly, ready for battle. A great and hair-raising conflict erupted between the rakshasas and the monkeys, fierce as the battles of gods and demons of old. Trees, spears, clubs, and iron bars flew through the air as both sides crushed each other relentlessly. The rakshasas attacked from all sides with spears, swords, maces, lances, javelins, arrows, pattiśas, and slings. With nooses, clubs, and other crushing weapons, they wrought havoc among the lion-like monkeys. Overwhelmed by a torrent of arrows from Khara’s son, the monkeys became bewildered and fled in fear. Seeing the monkeys scatter, the rakshasas roared in triumph, their pride swelling as they pressed their advantage. But Rama stood firm, checking the rakshasas with a shower of arrows, halting their advance. Blazing with anger, Makaraksha called out to Rama, “Stand, Rama! Fight with me in single combat. With sharp arrows from my bow, I will take your life. Whenever I recall how you killed my father in the Dandaka forest, my anger only grows stronger as I see you now before me, intent on your deeds. My limbs burn fiercely, wicked Raghava, because I did not see you then in the great forest. By fortune, Rama, you have now come into my sight—desired by me as a starving lion desires its prey. Prepare yourself!