At Rāma’s command, Suṣeṇa, the great-hearted leader of the monkeys, was asked to quickly heal Saumitri—Lakṣmaṇa—along with Vibhīṣaṇa, the brave bear king, and the valiant monkey warriors who fought fiercely with trees as their weapons. Rāma further requested that all the others present on the battlefield, those wounded and pierced by arrows, be restored to health through Suṣeṇa’s efforts. Moved by Rāma’s words, Suṣeṇa promptly handed the supreme healing herb to Lakṣmaṇa. As Lakṣmaṇa inhaled its potent fragrance, the arrows that had struck him fell away, his pain vanished, and all his wounds were completely healed. Following Rāma’s instruction, Suṣeṇa then administered the same medicine to all the chief monkeys and their friends, including Vibhīṣaṇa and his companions. Restored to his natural state, free from wounds and exhaustion, Saumitri was filled with joy, his fever and suffering gone in an instant. At that moment, Rāma, the monkey king Sugrīva, the mighty Vibhīṣaṇa, and the lord of the bears saw Saumitri rise, healthy and whole. They rejoiced greatly, as did their armies, celebrating together for a long time. Rāma, the great-souled son of Daśaratha, honored Lakṣmaṇa for his extraordinary deed—so difficult to accomplish. Sugrīva, too, was delighted on the battlefield, especially upon hearing that Indrajit, Rāvaṇa’s formidable son, had been slain. Now, listen to the next chapter in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Yuddha Kāṇḍa. Upon learning of Indrajit’s death, the ministers of the Paulastya clan hurried to inform the ten-headed Rāvaṇa. With heavy hearts, they said, “O great king, your son has been slain in battle by Lakṣmaṇa, aided by Vibhīṣaṇa, before our very eyes. Your heroic son, unconquered in battle, met the valiant Lakṣmaṇa and was slain by him, O Indrajit, subduer of the gods. He has departed to the highest worlds, having satisfied Lakṣmaṇa’s arrows. Hearing of his son’s dreadful death, Rāvaṇa was seized by terror. Struck down in spirit by the loss of his mighty son, the king of the rākṣasas fell into deep confusion and, after a long time, slowly regained consciousness. Overwhelmed by grief, his senses distraught, Rāvaṇa lamented, “Ah, chief of the rākṣasa army, my son, mighty one! You who conquered Indra—how is it that today you have fallen under Lakṣmaṇa’s power? Surely, in your wrath, you could have pierced even Time and Death with your arrows. You could shatter the peaks of Mandara itself—what was Lakṣmaṇa to you in battle? Today, I once again regard Yama, the lord of death, with awe. O mighty-armed one, whoever has caused you to follow the law of death—this is the path of all valiant warriors, even among the immortals. He who is slain in his master’s cause attains heaven. Today, all the hosts of gods, the guardians of the worlds, and the great sages, hearing that Indrajit has been slain, will rest peacefully, free from fear. The three worlds, and the earth with its forests, deprived of Indrajit alone, now seem empty to me. Today, within the royal chambers, I shall hear the wailing of the daughters of Nirriti, echoing like the trumpeting of female elephants in a mountain cave. The heir-apparency, Lanka, the rākṣasas, your mother, myself, and your wives—where have you gone, abandoning us? O hero, now that you have gone to the abode of Yama, the rites for the dead must be performed for you; truly you dwell in a reversed state. While Sugrīva, Lakṣmaṇa, and Rāma still live, where have you gone, leaving us without removing the thorn from my heart?” As Rāvaṇa was thus tormented by grief and lamented the loss of his son, a great wrath arose within him, born of this calamity. Naturally prone to anger, Rāvaṇa’s fury grew even more intense, like the sun’s heat intensified by its own rays. His brows furrowed deeply, and he shone like the ocean at the end of an age, surging with mighty waves and teeming with crocodiles. As his anger swelled, it seemed as though fire and smoke burst forth from his face, like the flames from the mouth of Vṛtra. Ravaged by grief and consumed by wrath, Rāvaṇa’s mind turned toward a dreadful resolve—the killing of Vaidehī, Sītā. His fierce nature now inflamed, Rāvaṇa’s eyes burned red with the fire of anger, and his form became as dreadful and unapproachable as Rudra in his fury. From his angry eyes fell burning tears, like drops of oil from two blazing lamps. As he ground his teeth, the sound of his jaws echoed like the noise of a great machine churned by demons. Enraged like the fire of destruction, whichever direction he looked, the terrified rākṣasas melted away in fear. Seeing him, furious as Death itself and eager to devour all beings, none of the rākṣasas dared approach as he glared in every direction. Then, exceedingly enraged, Rāvaṇa, lord of the rākṣasas, addressed his followers, seeking to steady them for the coming battle. He declared, “For thousands of years I performed the highest austerities, and everywhere, the Self-born Brahmā was pleased with me. By the power of that austerity and the favor of the Self-born, I fear neither asuras nor gods at any time. The armor given to me by Brahmā, shining like the sun, has never been broken by thunderbolts or fists in battles between gods and asuras. Who today, with me thus equipped and standing upon my chariot in battle, could possibly face me in combat—even Purandara himself?” Thus, Rāvaṇa’s grief transformed into a terrible fury, and he prepared himself and his forces for the final, fateful conflict.