O beautiful Sita, you desire that human Rama—so deprived of his kingdom, unsuccessful in his aims, and dispirited, O blameless lady. Thus the rakshasis taunted her, their cruel words echoing through the asoka grove. Hearing their scorn, Sita—her eyes like lotus petals, now brimming with tears—lifted her gaze and spoke with quiet dignity. “Whatever hateful words you all speak together, such sinful speech does not linger in my mind,” she replied, her voice steady despite her sorrow. “A human woman should never become the wife of a rakshasa; you may eat me if you wish, but I will not yield to your bidding. Whether he is destitute or deprived of his kingdom, my husband is my lord. I am ever devoted to him, as Suvarcala is to the sun. “As the fortunate Shaci serves Indra, as Arundhati serves Vasistha, and as Rohini serves the moon, as Lopamudra serves Agastya, Sukanya serves Cyavana, Savitri serves Satyavat, and Shrimati serves Kapila, as Madayanti serves Saudasa, Keshini serves Sagara, Damayanti serves Nala, and Bhimi serves her husband with fidelity—so too am I devoted to my husband Rama, the best of the Ikshvakus.” Hearing Sita’s unwavering words, the rakshasis, enraged at Ravana’s command, began to threaten her with harsh and terrible words. Hidden and silent in the branches of the shimshapa tree, Hanuman listened as the rakshasis grew more menacing. Furious, they rushed at Sita from all sides, licking their long, blazing fangs, as she trembled in fear. Seizing sharp axes, they cried out in anger, “She does not deserve Ravana, lord of the rakshasas, as her husband!” Surrounded and threatened by these terrifying beings, Sita wiped away her tears and moved toward the shimshapa tree, her wide eyes filled with grief. Emaciated, sorrowful, clad in soiled garments, Sita stood amidst the circle of dreadful rakshasis who continued to threaten her. Then, a fearsome rakshasi named Vinata, with a terrible face and sunken belly, spoke in anger: “O Sita, the affection your husband has shown is enough. Everywhere, gentle one, excess leads only to misfortune. I am satisfied; may good befall you. The human path has been fulfilled. But now, Maithili, do as I say, for it is for your own benefit. “Accept Ravana as your husband, the mighty lord of all the rakshasas, advancing like Indra, king of the gods. O Vaidehi, adorned with divine perfumes and ornaments, from this day forth, become the sovereign of all the worlds. Just as Svaha is to Agni, and Sachi to Indra, O lovely one, what use have you for Rama, who is wretched and whose life is as good as ended? If you do not do as I have said, we will devour you this very moment.” Then another, named Vikata, with hanging breasts, raised her fist and angrily threatened Sita: “Many improper words, Maithili, have we endured from you, out of compassion and gentleness, though you are of evil mind. You do not heed our timely and beneficial advice; you have been brought across the ocean, which is difficult for others to cross. You have entered the dreadful inner chambers of Ravana and are now confined in his house, guarded by us. Not even Purandara himself could save you. Listen to my words, Maithili, for I speak for your good. “Enough of shedding tears; abandon this useless grief. Seek joy and delight, casting aside constant misery. O Sita, sport as you please with the king of the rakshasas. We know well, O timid one, that youth is fleeting for women. Enjoy happiness while your time lasts; the pleasant gardens and mountain groves are yours. Roam with the king of the rakshasas, O one with intoxicating eyes; thousands of women will be at your command, O beautiful lady. Accept Ravana as your husband, or else, Maithili, I will tear out your heart and devour it. If you do not do exactly as I have said, then the rakshasi named Chandodari, fierce in appearance, will—” Brandishing a great spear, Chandodari spoke: “This doe-eyed one, whose breasts tremble in fear—seeing Sita abducted by Ravana, this great anger has arisen in me; I wish to devour her liver, spleen, heart, and all her entrails. My mind is set to eat even her limbs and head.” Then the rakshasi named Praghasa spoke, “Let us strangle this cruel woman’s throat—what is the delay? Then report to the king that this human woman is dead. There is no doubt; he will say, ‘Eat her.’” Next, the rakshasi named Ajāmukhī spoke up: “Let us cut her up, then make equal portions for all; let us divide her, for I do not like disputes.” “Quickly bring drink and many kinds of garlands!” cried Surpanakha, eager to join in the dreadful feast. Thus, surrounded by threats and terror, Sita stood steadfast in her devotion, while the rakshasis, at Ravana’s behest, sought to break her spirit with fear and cruel words—unaware that Hanuman, hidden above, witnessed all.