Murali (Charioteer of the King of the Heavens, pleased to meet you) was used to many things. Being Indra's charioteer (an official job posting, when he'd been offered it) involved a variety of different duties, like driving his master's favorite apsaras to heavenly vacations in paradise, and completing lightning transactions with Bhoomi Devi. 

What Murali was decidedly not used to was playing a part in a heavenly tale that involved the Lord of the Three Universes and a very evil demon.

He was kind of nervous to meet Shri Vishnu, no, Shri Ram, in the middle of his greatest battle, but he was just a humble charioteer (of the King of the Heavens), and followed his master's orders, and that was how he ended up in his familiar cockpit, flying down towards Earth at terrible speed, faster than Pawan himself (although he wouldn't dare claim so, for fear of being blown off the universe)

The sky was a clouded gray rather than the bright blue it normally turned above the island paradise of Lanka. Vultures cawed loudly, flying away from the sight, and if Murali hadn't been a responsible driver , he would have followed their flight with curious eyes, wondering why they were escaping from the carnage instead of doing what normal vultures would. 

But if the Gods themselves couldn't come down to witness the battle, he supposed that mere vultures would be frightened out of their wings.

The thin white clouds were spiraling, pulled apart like cotton balls and tugged towards the Earth in a vortex as he flew down. His graying hair blew roughly against a stubbled face, and his eyes narrowed with concentration as he flew. 

Expertly, his calloused hands tightened around the reins, and tugged with measured force.

Murali was at his most comfortable, having driven this same chariot for thousands of years, so it was probably good that Indra hadn't commanded him to fly a helicopter down there instead. The Earth was still hazy through the condensed mist in the sky, and the battle was hidden from the eager (scared) charioteer's view. After passing the final barrier of clouds, he finally was able to see Lanka.

And what a sight it was. Among the rising dust that clouded the senses and painted the clear air brown, Maharaj Ravan was aboard his magnificent winged chariot, which hovered steadily above the Earth. 

It was gold and beautiful, of course, but nothing compared to Indra's chariot. Still, he was the picture of malicious splendor, hand positioned heroically on his thigh, head tilted back, heavy crown doing nothing to weigh down his pride. 

His twisted mustache quirked up with his confident smirk, and he whipped his black and gold angavastram around his wrist, every bit the King of Lanka. A demon who had terrorized millions.

Yet though the demon shone opulently in the middle of the muggy battlefield, he was overshadowed in every manner by the man who stood opposite to him. Even if he hadn't been there to represent the Gods, Murali would have migrated towards his side without a doubt in his mind. His brain was overwhelmed in the best way by his brilliance. 

If Ravan was like a gold statue, then this man was gold in itself, living and breathing, dynamic and lion-like in his greatness.

Could there be any doubt? This man was Trimurti personified. This man was Raghunandan, Janakivallabha, and Ramchandra, deserving of every great and infinitely long title he had been bestowed with by the Gods. This man was Ram. 

Though he wore clothes the color of the clay dust that rose incessantly from disturbed Bhoomi Devi, his dark skin was as clean as the neelkamal, and the whites of his pale blue eyes were visible through the haze. And while Ravan lounged in his chariot, so far above the ground, he seemed to tower above with both of his feet on the Earth, sweat trailing down his face, annihilating the shower of arrows.

While Murali had no doubt in his mind that with or without chariot, Shri Ram would win, with chariot was probably a little better for the vanar painter who was standing with his easel. Murali thought a realistic reference would probably be feasible for the artist.

So with a goal in mind, Murali tugged on the reins until he hovered above the battlefield, just out of sight of the enormous monkey army that watched every exchange of arrows with held breath. He inhaled. He exhaled. The charioteer of Indra descended.

-----O-----

Lakshman found himself in the familiar position of uncontrollable rage when he saw his brother (still without chariot), fighting a demon with an endless arsenal of weapons and a chariot. It just wasn't fair. Ram bhaiyya was killing this demon with the blessings of the Gods. So why not a chariot? Or any other weapons? Not that his bhaiyya needed it, of course, but it would really be nice to see him looking like a Yuvraj.

Maybe this whole thing of fighting with only humble weapons was to drive home the point that Ram bhaiyya was an exiled man who managed to fight (and kill) the terrible Ravan. But he really didn't think there was anyone who doubted the fact that his bhaiyya had been living in a forest for fourteen years. In fact, the whole hermit idea seemed a little too dear to the rakshas army. 

He knew, for one, that he wouldn't mind seeing some color other than deep orange. Even for Lakshman, fourteen years of wearing the exact same saffron was getting tiring.

Orange was out of fashion.

He clenched his jaw, his temples tightening against skin and fists clenching at his side.

"What is he doing?" Nal whispered, pointing towards the younger prince. "He looks like he's getting ready to enter the battle himself."

"We can't let him do that!" Nal panicked. "We promised our Prabhu!"

Flashback

Before anyone else saw him, Ram had managed to corner Angad, Nal, and Neel. "Listen, I need to tell you three something," Ram murmured, looking around as if he was making sure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Don't worry Prabhu!" Angad cried, shooting his Prabhu two thumbs up like a therapist. "You'll do great! You'll set the battlefield on fire! Hopefully Ravan too!"

"Arrey, bevkoof, if Shri Ram sets the battlefield on fire, how will he manage to escape?"

"You don't trust the abilities of Shri Ram? I am offended on his behalf!"

"Don't you think Shri Ram has the ability to be offended on his own behalf?"
"I am an advocate for Shri Ram. The more offense is felt on his general behalf, the better it is. I speak from experience."

"Let Prabhu speak!"

They all turned dutifully back towards Ram, who looked like he was getting more and more worried of getting caught by second. "Okay," he whispered. "You three have to promise me that whatever you do, you won't let Lakshman get angry. I've commanded him to stay off the battlefield, but who knows what he'll do when he gets angry."

"Don't worry, we won't let him steal your spotlight, Prabhu! You're the main character."

"It's not that," Ram huffed amusedly. "I just-I-"

"We understand, Prabhu." Angad replied solemnly, shoving Nal and Neel with enough firmness that both of them became serious in a second. "You are fulfilling your dharma and helping all of us by killing that rakshas. We will help however we can. This need not have even been asked of us. If you asked us to bring a piece of the sky, a wisp of the sea, a chunk of land, a droplet of sun, we wouldn't hesitate."

"Heck, Hanuman already hauled a whole mountain over," Nal joked in a tone anything but joking. "Prabhu, don't you doubt us. You focus on killing Ravan and doing what you've been preparing for. We will do what you've asked of us."

Present

Lakshman was so busy thinking very angry thoughts in his mind, he didn't notice three monkeys hurriedly flanking him from all sides until he accidentally bumped into Nal when he stepped forward. "What are you doing?" Lakshman asked suspiciously, eyes squinting slightly as he stared at the monkeys who had spawned out of thin air.

"Oh look!" Neel cried, so as to not be decimated by a giant angry prince, pointing towards a random point in the distance. "It's a chariot flying out of the sky!" The whole army believed him and whirled around, and Neel quickly found that his little bluff was actually very much reality. Jaws dropped to the ground (and were quickly picked up by their owners because no littering) as they stared at the heavenly chariot that they had only seen in rare scriptures and paintings.

But of course, as myths were being formed in front of their eyes, the legends of old would make an appearance. 

-----O------

"Pranaam, Prabhu," Murali rumbled, folding his hands and bowing his head. The pristine white horses in front of him forgot their pride and did the same, each craning their long neck low. "We have come from the Heavens to complete our dharma in this epic tale. Lord Indra's chariot and his prized horses are your mount today. Please, ascend on what is rightfully yours, for this final fight."

When Ram turned away from the fight, the whole universe seemed to freeze. Ravan remained suspended in the same position. The arrows in the air didn't move. 

The wind that had been whistling around him came to a halt, though his hair still seemed to sweep heroically around his neck. His all-seeing eyes connected with the hopeful ones of Murali, and roved over the chariot for a single second, before he too bowed his head.

"I know that Indra Dev is behind this, and with the blessings of the other Gods, you have been sent here to assist dharma. I wholeheartedly and gratefully accept the gesture, and I am indebted to you too, Muraliji, for your time and respect." Murali's eyes would have filled with humble tears, except he was taking care not to cry so that he could properly steer. He gestured Ram onto the chariot.

Ram made to step on the giant vehicle, but Murali knelt down and placed his hand about halfway. With a small smile, Ram stepped on the hand instead, and was lifted up to the chariot without a tremble under his immense weight. But that was just what thinking of Ram was like; burdenless.

The moment both of his feet were on the chariot, the world unfroze. The wind started to blow again, and people started to breathe once more. Ravan's maniacal eyes trained on Ram and his shining new chariot. Then, they drifted down to Murali, who clutched the reins of the horses as tightly as he could and tried to square his jaw with determination. "And when did you get that?" Ravan asked.

"Oh, just a few seconds ago," Ram responded nonchalantly, shrugging and moving his bow from one shoulder to the other.

"It was a rhetorical question!" Ravan shouted, hand landing indignantly on the helm of his chariot. "That is the chariot of Lord Indra!" Everyone knew that, but Ravan found it very important to specify. 

Then, with extreme arrogance, he leaned back and eyed Ram. "You might think that you're very blessed by the Gods now, to have gotten their king's chariot. But I didn't even need their blessings to have one of my own!" He thumped his own charioteer's shoulder, who exchanged a nervous glance with the seething Murali.

He quickly got back up when Ram shot four arrows, each forming a square around Ravan's head. "This is a battle, you demon king." Ram shouted. "Not a roasting challenge. If you wanted to do that, I'd have called Lakshman instead. But you are fighting me." His eyes narrowed. "Don't disrespect the opportunity you have been given."

He shot fifteen more arrows into the sky, where they rained down on Ravan, catching fire magically. Ravan created a huge bubble of water around his own chariot, and they dissipated. Ram drew another astra from his quiver, which tore down one of Ravan's horses. 

Another one broke the roof of his chariot. The final rattled the flying vehicle so much that Ravan's crown was knocked off onto the floor.

But it was Ravan's turn to fight back.

He unleashed a torrent of arrows too quick for the author to possibly name each one. Water rushed in from the ocean, and fire was channeled from the eartj. The wind began to whistle with urgency, as if Pawan himself couldn't wait to escape the fighting. 

Ravan grasped every tendril of crimson evil that breeded in his body, and unleashed it upon loving Ram. Every missile of mass destruction that Ravan possessed in his mass arsenal was thrown into the air with increasing anger and power.

Even Lord Shiv, the God of Destruction, narrowed his eyes. No single being before had dared to use every single one of the astras he possessed, that too upon a mortal. A man.

But Ram managed to counter each one. With his simple arrows, tied together with twine and branches, he struck down each and every one of Lankesh's weapons until they were little sparks, fizzling in Lanka's earth.

Ravan's eyes narrowed with whatever anger he still had left in his seething body. Slowly, he lifted up his own bow, grabbing a long, dark astra before stringing it. Twang! He let the bringer of death fly, soaring through the afternoon wind, under the thick dust, over the boulders and trees, twisting through ascending souls and avoiding lifeless bodies. 

All-powerful, it harnessed the elements that it shredded with its flight, gathering energy and black force.

There wasn't any doubt about it. This weapon had to be unstoppable.

Ravan leaned in, red eyes bugging out with excitement. He had to admit, even to himself, that he'd never quite anticipated the death of an enemy so much. There had been a thousand men that had thought themselves the one that could end Ravan. 

None of them had succeeded. This Ram, he was just another man with no substance. He too would die by Ravan's hands. All these years on the battlefield, but Ravan's might could never rust.

The astra flew, undeterred by the thousands of glares upon it from the vanar sena. Ravan's charioteer covered his eyes. He had never seen this astra before. But its power couldn't be questioned. There was no way even the mighty mortal could stop it.

BOOM! It clashed with Ram's great purple shield in a shower of sparks. Stunned, Ravan stood up from his chariot.

Ram was gritting his teeth, eyes fiery with unrestrained strength. He held up his great bow to the sun directly above him, as if the symbol of the Raghu clan had arrived to help its scion. Large, twisted coils of purple electricity were rushing into the sky, forming a large bubble around him and Murali.

Unlike Ravan's horses, which startled as the Earth began to shake with the force, Ram's chariot was perfectly steady, every gaze trained solely on Ravan with accusing hearts. Finally, Ram relaxed, though his muscles still rippled. Both men watched as the shield tore under the assault and the astra dropped to the ground, unable to continue.

With a rumble, Ravan stepped out of his chariot, rolling his shoulders. Ram didn't move, simply watching him with a clenched jaw, breaths still coming heavily. With a loud roar, Ravan bellowed his anger into the sky, before his eyes began to glow red.

Slowly, he began to grow. His arms began to bulge and his legs started to grow longer and larger until he was ten times his normal size. Twenty times. Fifty times. Finally, he towered over the nearby mountains and rivers and the gates of Lanka. He stared down at Ram, baring his fangs like the filthy dog he was.

"You might think," and Ravan's voice was no longer a growl. It was an Earth-Shaking roar that startled whatever birds remained in their trees. "That you are the sun that will end Lanka's endless night! That you are the good to snatch away the evil from my kingdom!"

"You're the firstborn son of the Raghu clan, aren't you? The clan that embraces the image of the sun so? You think you're the first to try and terrorize my kingdom, usurp my rule. You think you're the one. But let me tell you something."

"Every day of my rule, the sun has risen over Lanka! Every day, the sky morphs from black to orange. Every day, Surya Maharaj approaches us with his light, trying to bring change. So it has been for thousands of eons." He leaned in, as if sharing a secret. "But when the time comes, the sun sets, tiring of its journey, no longer willing to keep the light in Lanka.The sky goes from orange to black again."

Thank you Ravan, for your explanation of what a sunset is. We never knew that during a sunset, the sun set.

Mega-Ravan (3000x edition) stretched his large arms, laughing until even Heaven was shaken by the aftershocks. "This is Lanka! My Kingdom! Every day a new sun approaches, and every day the new sun sets! But I still remain! And so it has been for more than a hundred thousand years! This is LANKA! Graveyard of the suns! This is where sunrises die, mortal! And now, so shall you!"

Ram stared at the monster that towered over him. He inhaled deeply. "You've assumed your new form, perhaps to scare me Ravan. But I cannot be scared anymore. Because I have seen the evil that resides in your body, no matter how puny it is. No form of you can scare me anymore. If you took the form befitting all the adharm that you believe in, you would be greater than the Earth itself. Bhoomi Devi would crack under your weight."

He shifted his weight to his right foot, and stepped forward. "The sun never sets over Lanka, for Lanka is to the South. Lanka simply watches it move throughout the sky, every day, unable to touch the light. But now I have come, from the north, to end this era of evil!"

His nose flared. "Nobody knows, not even you, of how many Sitas you have kidnapped, how many Rams you have condemned to a life of agony. Perhaps you should have feared all those suns that threatened you, Ravan, for now they have given their purpose to me. It is now my dharma to avenge them, the adharma committed against them. It is my dharma to right the wrongs."

Ram too, raised both of his arms. Behind him, the vanar sena stood to attention, but behind them, rose the spirits that Ravan had wronged.

All the women Ravan had ruined, with their clothes tattered and their eyes crazed. All the men he had killed without mercy, hands still gripping traveling bags and books and sometimes even the hands of young children. All the minor deities with their eyes sparking and blood-drained animals with tired gaits. All the mothers and wiveshe had killed from grief with billowing white saris, all the sons he had left neglected inadvertently that slumped. 

They rose with the beat of the drums of dharma, finally able to look Ravan in the eye.

Only Lankesh could see them, and feel their pain. Even in his great body, it was too much to bear. He could grow another million sizes and be unable to take it.

"I stand before you, not with the power of one mortal alone, but with the might of a million men, Ravan. Grow another million lengths, become larger than the sun you feel so threatened by. Still, you won't be able to escape them."

"And-" he continued, raising his chin. "You won't be able to escape me. Not because I am all-powerful, or can grow miraculously like you. It is because I am a vessel of dharma. And dharma gives me the power to track you down, to the ends of the universe, and into another one. You say that Lanka is the graveyard of a thousand suns, Lankesh. But there is only one sun, one source of light. It reappears every day. It is dharma. And someday, it will defeat you, and swallow you whole."

A/N: Yeh gaon mera hai, aur mein iss gaon ka, Jaikant Shikre!

Got big Singham vibes from this chapter.

First of all, thank you so, so, so much for seventy five thousand reads. That's such a big milestone for this book! Thank you, thank you, thank you. I'll try not to disappear again, but you never know with me. Please know that I always appreciate all of you. 

I am extremely sorry for not updating for two months, by the way. If it helps, I think this is the very last chapter. 

Before Ravan dies. 

I know. 

Very nervous. 

RIP Mochi.

RIP whoever's still reading and has to wait 19372846924 years. 

Going to publish a Rant chapter about Adipurush now. 

Byyeee! See you when I'm seventy five and retired!