Commanded by their king, seven of the most invincible warriors, impetuous youth brilliant as the flames of a fire and the bane of their enemies sallied forth to meet their one-man army! Brilliant as the flames of a fire they went happily, jostling and challenging each other to be the first to attack Hanuman. But the mothers, friends and kin of the little army, remembering the recent fate of other stalwarts watched sorrowfully. Hanuman sitting atop the tower gate saw the chariots of the rakshasas. Glittering, glowing and rumbling like rain laden clouds raced the chariots, while the bejewelled combatants chafing for war and victory thundered headlong towards Hanuman. The volley of arrows that they rained made him seem like a mountain veiled by rain, but escaping every one of those arrows Hanuman leapt into the sky. The young rakshasa warriors soared after him while Hanuman loomed large as the Himalayas on the aerial battlefield. He evaded their efforts to hurt him, with a turn, a twist or a leap, seeming to rather frolic with the foe, than fight with them! Suddenly he vented a mighty roar at the sound of which some fell stunned white some fell dead! Hanuman with his bare hands sent his enemies to death. He used his legs to crush, his nails to tear and his fists to pound until they breathed no more and until death claimed them. Those who survived the massacre fled in every direction. Elephants trumpeted their distress and horses fell to the ground. Chariots with their wheels, flag staffs and umbrellas lay shattered, strewn as far as the eye could see, Cries of pain and fear filled the air even as rivers of blood flowed unchecked. But Hanuman, the mighty messenger of Rama was back on the gate tower eagerly waiting to battle with more power intoxicated rakshasas.