(an excerpt from Amish's War Of Lanka)

'My friend...'

Kumbhakarna turned. And saw Hanuman standing over him. Tears in his eyes.

The mighty Kumbhakarna smiled. Weakly. 'Lord... Hanuman...'

Hanuman went down on one knee and held Kumbhakarna's hand gently. 'I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...'

Kumbhakarna shook his head slightly and laughed. 'You did your duty... my friend... And I did mine...'

Hanuman's tears flowed.

'You saved... my life once... you had the right... to take it now... the accounts are settled... As they should be...'

'You are a noble man, Prince Kumbhakarna. A good man...' Hanuman sensitively did not complete his statement. A good man on the wrong side.

Kumbhakarna tried to lift his head again. Hanuman helped him and placed his head on his lap.

Kumbhakarna looked at the heroic elephant. His last battle. The beast was bleeding slowly to death from the massive gaping wound on its cleanly hacked trunk. 'That beast ... is noble... Put him down with grace... Lord Hanuman... put him down ... with me...'

'We will...'

Hanuman looked at the elephant. And then back at his friend. Kumbhakarna.

A beast. And a human. But common in their fate.

Tragic males. Both.

The beast. That had been abandoned by its mother, its sisters, its lovers... when the matriarchal clan had no further use of it.

The man. Hated by the world simply because of the way he looked. And for the crimes of his elder brother.

Both lonely. Both angry. Suppressed anger. Both courageous.

Both... noble.

Both deeply in love with their brothers.

The elephant with its brother, the mahour. And Kumbhakarna with his brother, Raavan.

Both saved by their brothers.

The elephant by the mahout, who gave it purpose when it was alone. Kumbhakarna by Raavan, who saved his brother's life at birth.

Both used by their brothers.

The elephant, used by its mahout for his own glory in war. Kumbhakarna, forced into a lifetime of managing his brother's actions.

Hanuman looked at the mahout, leaning against the elephants head. Desperately crying. The elephant was bending its head. Almost as though, even in its dying throes, it was trying to console its mahout.

Love beyond measure.

'He loved me... the most...' whispered Kumbhakarna.

Hanuman looked down at his friend.

'Give him... nobility in his death...'

Hanuman's heart felt heavy. Even in his last moments, Kumbhakarna was thinking about his elder brother, Raavan.

His dada. His blessing. His curse.

'I fight under the banner of Ram,' said Hanuman. 'We will be noble, my friend. You know that.'

Kumbhakarna nodded. 'Goodbye... my friend...'

'I will see you soon on the other side, my brother,' whispered Hanuman.

Kumbhakarna's eyes twinkled. 'Take your time...'

Hanuman laughed softly.

Kumbhakarna smiled. He then looked at the elephant again; the beast was bleeding to death. Slowly. He bowed his head with respect towards the magnificent fighter, a worthy adversary. And then. Kumbhakarna allowed his last breath to slip out softly.

Hanuman's tears spilled out in a stronger flood now. He embraced his friend. And then gently put his head back on the ground.

The mighty Vayuputra stood up tall, drawing his sword and holding it high. So that all, both friend and foe, could see him dearly. He then swung the sword down and pushed it, tip first, into the ground. And then went down on one knee. And bowed his head.

Showing respect to an extraordinary enemy.

And all the soldiers present, both Lankans and Ayodhyans, went down on one knee.

As good soldiers do. When a noble warrior dies.

A great warrior is neither an enemy nor a friend. He is just a great warrior.

The elephant and Kumbhakarna.

Both lonely and tragic.

Both had been blessed with what such males deeply hanker for.

A good death.