describes in beautiful verses how the youthful warrior Aksha, the equal of the gods, rode
to battle in a chariot drawn by eight horses.
Who can put up in a different tongue Vaalmeeki's poetry describing the beauty of forests
and the terrible fury of encounters between warriors? The rhythm and grandeur of his words
convey the terror and majesty of what he describes. This power is Vaalmeeki's special
gift. We can only summarise in pedestrian prose his glowing account, of the battle between
Aksha, the beloved son of Raavana, and Hanumaan.
In a golden chariot acquired through tapasya rode Raavana's young son. When he saw
Hanumaan, seated on the stone battlement above the gateway, and noted approvingly the
beautiful symmetry of his mighty limbs, and the majestic intrepidity of his look, Aksha
felt that here was a foe worthy of his steel, and summoned all his strength and resolution
to do him honour.