When Sītā, whose eyes were like lotus petals, heard the harsh words of the rākṣasīs surrounding her, her eyes brimmed with tears. Yet, even as they spoke cruelly and threatened her, she answered them with dignity and resolve: “All the hateful words you speak together, all this sinful speech, does not linger in my mind. A human woman should not become the wife of a rākṣasa. You may eat me if you wish, but I will never do what you demand. “Whether my husband is destitute or deprived of his kingdom, he is still my lord. I am always devoted to him, as Suvarcalā is devoted to the sun. Just as the blessed Śacī serves Indra, as Arundhatī serves Vasiṣṭha, and Rohiṇī serves the moon; as Lopāmudrā serves Agastya, Sukanyā serves Cyavana, Sāvitrī serves Satyavat, and Śrīmatī serves Kapila; as Madayantī serves Saudāsa, Keśinī serves Sagara, Damayantī serves Nala, and Bhīmi serves her husband with fidelity—so too am I devoted to my husband Rāma, the best of the Ikṣvākus.” Hearing Sītā’s unwavering words, the rākṣasīs, enraged by Rāvaṇa’s command, began to threaten her with even harsher words. Hanumān, hidden and silent in the leafy branches of the śiṃśapā tree, listened as the rākṣasīs surrounded Sītā, their anger mounting. They rushed at her from all sides, their fury blazing, licking their long, fiery fangs as Sītā trembled. Grasping sharp axes, they shouted in their wrath, “She does not deserve Rāvaṇa, lord of the rākṣasas, as her husband!” Surrounded and threatened by these terrifying beings, Sītā, noble and steadfast, wiped away her tears and approached the sheltering śiṃśapā tree. There she stood, wide-eyed and overwhelmed by grief, encircled by the fearsome rākṣasīs, her clothing soiled and her face sorrowful. Then, a rākṣasī named Vinatā, dreadful in appearance with a terrible face and sunken belly, spoke harshly: “O Sītā, your husband’s affection has been shown enough. Gentle one, excess in anything leads only to ruin. I am satisfied; may good befall you. You have fulfilled the human path. Now, Maithilī, do as I say, for it is for your benefit. Accept Rāvaṇa, lord of the rākṣasas, mighty and advancing like Indra, king of the gods, as your husband. “O Vaidehī, adorned with divine perfumes and ornaments, from this day, become the sovereign of all the worlds. Just as Svāhā is to Agni and Śacī to Indra, what use have you for Rāma, who is wretched and whose life is as good as ended? If you do not do as I say, we will devour you this very moment.” Then another rākṣasī, Vikata, with hanging breasts, raised her fist and threatened Sītā in anger: “We have endured many improper words from you, O Maithilī, out of compassion and gentleness, though your mind is wicked. You ignore our timely and beneficial advice, even though you were brought across the ocean—something impossible for others. Now you are confined in Rāvaṇa’s dreadful inner chambers, guarded by us. Not even Purandara himself could save you. Heed my words, for I speak for your good. “Enough of your tears; abandon this useless grief. Seek joy and delight, and cast aside your constant misery. O Sītā, sport as you please with the king of the rākṣasas. 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 rākṣasas, O one with intoxicating eyes; thousands of women will serve you, O beautiful lady. Accept Rāvaṇa, lord of the rākṣasas, as your husband—or else, O Maithilī, I will tear out your heart and devour it. If you do not do exactly as I have said, then the rākṣasī named Chandodarī, fierce in appearance, will…” Chandodarī, brandishing a great spear, spoke: “This doe-eyed one, whose breasts tremble in fear—seeing her abducted by Rāvaṇa, 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 rākṣasī Praghasa spoke: “Let us strangle this cruel woman’s throat—why delay? Then we can report to the king that the human woman is dead. There is no doubt; he will say, ‘Eat her.’” Next, the rākṣasī Ajāmukhī spoke: “Let us cut her up and make equal portions for all—let us divide her, for I do not like disputes. Quickly bring drink and many kinds of garlands!” At last, the rākṣasī Surpanakhā spoke: “What Ajāmukhī has said pleases me most—quickly bring liquor, the destroyer of all sorrow.” Thus, Sītā, steadfast in her devotion, was threatened and tormented by the rākṣasīs, while Hanumān, hidden above, witnessed her ordeal in silent anguish.