The Great Battle of Rama and Lakshmana with Ravana, and Ravana's Death

Seeing the splendid chakra-ratna in Lakshmana's hand, Sugriva, Bhamandala, Viradhita and the other Vidyadhara lords rejoice, recalling that the Kevali (omniscient) Anantavirya had foretold that Lakshmana is the eighth Vasudeva and Rama the eighth Baladeva. Lakshmana has become Ardhachakri (half-emperor), and Rama the Baladeva, whose chariot is drawn by lions and who has captured King Maya, shines with the plough and pestle, great jewels, in his hands: the Baladeva and Narayana have appeared.

Seeing the Sudarshana chakra in Lakshmana's hand, Ravana reflects that the words of the Kevali Anantavirya have come true: he, whose parasol made Vidyadharas tremble and whom the earth from the Himalaya to the Vindhya obeyed like a maid, has been beaten by land-dwellers. Royal fortune is like an unchaste woman and sense pleasures are fleeting; blessed are Bharata Chakravarti and the others who ruled the six regions and then cast kingship aside like poisoned food, took the Jina's vows and attained the supreme state, while he, a wretch craving pleasures, was conquered by mighty moha.

Lakshmana, glancing at Vibhishana, tells Ravana, ‘Vidyadhara, nothing is lost even now: bring Janaki and hand her to Rama, say that you live by Rama's grace, and keep your royal fortune, for we want nothing of yours.’ Ravana laughs that his pride is groundless, for Ravana is the Vidyadhara lord of the earth and Lakshmana a poor land-dweller, and when Lakshmana declares, ‘I am the Narayana born to slay you,’ Ravana retorts that wishing does not make one a Narayana.

Ravana taunts him as an unworthy son driven from land and city by his own father, a wretched beggar roaming from forest to forest, puffed up over a trifling chakra like a pauper rejoicing over a scrap of oil-cake, and vows to send him, with his sinful Vidyadhara allies, his vehicle and his chakra, down to the netherworld. Enraged, Lakshmana whirls the chakra and hurls it at Ravana with a roar like a thunderbolt, blazing like the sun at the end of the world.

Ravana tries to stop it with arrows, weapons and every device, and with his swift, fierce rod, but his merit is spent and the chakra does not halt; standing before it, he strikes it with the Chandrahasa sword, setting the sky ablaze with sparks, but the sword has no effect. The chakra splits open the chest of Ravana, lord of the Rakshasas, and he falls to the ground like Mount Anjana, like a god falling from heaven or Kamadeva himself, the very image of heroism, brows still knitted and lips bitten.

Seeing their lord fallen, Ravana's sea-like army flees in panic, banners and parasols drifting without a master, courtiers and soldiers weeping and crying, ‘Clear the chariot! Make way, an elephant is coming! Move the vimana aside! The lord of the earth has fallen, a terrible calamity!’ as they stumble over one another. Seeing them helpless, Bhamandala, Sugriva and Hanuman, at Rama's command, call out, ‘Fear not, be calm,’ and wave a cloth as a sign of safety, and the army takes heart.

Gautama tells King Shrenika that Ravana, after enjoying such glory and ruling the earth to the ocean's edge, met his end when his merit was exhausted; shame on such fickle royal fortune, a mine of sin. Knowing this, the wise take up the austerities of a muni, for when sinful karma ripens and life runs out, no fortune can save even a Chakravarti from death.