With Lakshmana saved, hope bloomed once more in Rama’s heart. The vanara army roared like thunder, their spirits soaring, ready to fight until the very skies trembled.
But Ravana, furious at his son Indrajit’s failure, called upon his remaining mighty warriors — brave and cruel Rakshasas whose names struck fear even in the bravest hearts.
First came Kumbhakarna — Ravana’s own brother — a giant who slept for months, waking only to devour and destroy. Ravana stood by his bed and roared, “Awake, O brother! Awake and save Lanka from ruin.”
Kumbhakarna rose like a mountain, his eyes red with sleep, his mouth wide enough to swallow armies. “Why have you disturbed my slumber, Ravana?” he growled. “What war drives you to my side?”
Ravana’s voice cracked with pride and fear. “It is Rama, the prince of Ayodhya. He crosses oceans, slays my armies, and now stands at Lanka’s gates. Go, brother, and crush him.”
Kumbhakarna laughed, his voice booming like thunder. “Fool! You invited this war by stealing Sita. Yet, I shall fight, for I am bound by blood.”
Out he marched — vast, terrible, and unstoppable. The earth trembled beneath his steps. Vanaras fled, their courage fading like mist before the sun.
But Rama stood firm, his bow ready, his heart steady. “Come, mighty giant. Today, your strength meets dharma.”
The battle was fierce. Kumbhakarna roared and smashed the earth, sweeping vanaras aside like dry leaves. Yet Rama’s arrows flew like fire, piercing through the giant’s thick skin.
With a final, mighty shot, Rama aimed at Kumbhakarna’s heart. The arrow blazed with the power of the gods. It struck true.
The great giant staggered, roared one last time, and fell — crashing to the earth, shaking mountains and rivers alike.
The vanaras cheered, their fear forgotten. “Victory to Rama!” they cried. “Dharma shall prevail!”
But Ravana’s rage knew no bounds. He summoned his last hope — his beloved son Indrajit once more.
Indrajit, master of dark magic, performed his final sacrifice, making himself invincible. With every weapon of power, he returned to the battlefield, determined to destroy Lakshmana once and for all.
The duel between Lakshmana and Indrajit blazed like the sun. Arrows flew, maces clashed, and the earth itself groaned beneath the fury of their battle.
But Lakshmana, guided by Rama’s love, fought with the strength of ten thousand warriors. With a divine arrow gifted by the gods, he struck Indrajit down — ending the dark prince’s reign of terror.
Ravana’s heart shattered. His sons, his brother, his might — all lay broken before him. Yet his pride would not bend.
He roared to the heavens, “Now, I shall face Rama myself. Let the earth witness the clash of kings!”
And so, the final battle drew near — Rama, the prince of dharma, and Ravana, the king of pride, stood on the edge of destiny.
The skies darkened, the earth fell silent, and even the gods leaned down to watch — for the last chapter of this great war was about to be written.