When Ravana, tormented by desire for Sita, gave voice to his lament, Kumbhakarṇa was stirred to anger. With a deep, rumbling voice, he addressed his brother: “When Sita was snatched from Rama, together with Lakshmana, and brought here by force, it was inevitable that anyone who saw her, even once, would be captivated—drawn to her irresistibly, just as the Yamuna is drawn to the river’s own course. “O great king, you have accomplished this act in a manner unlike any before you. But let us, too, be involved from the very beginning, supporting you in this endeavor. A ruler who acts with justice and discernment never finds cause for regret, for his mind remains fixed on what is certain. But actions taken without proper means, or in contradiction to what is right, become corrupted—like sacred offerings spoiled by improper ritual. “He who confuses the order of action—doing what should come later first, and what should come first later—shows he does not discern right from wrong. When a fickle person acts without weighing the strength of his adversaries, others will find his weakness, just as birds find a gap in the sky of a heron. You have embarked on this great undertaking without due reflection; it is only by good fortune that Rama has not already destroyed you, sparing you like poisoned meat left untouched. “Therefore, this extraordinary challenge you have begun against your enemy—I shall bring to completion, O faultless one, by slaying those who oppose you. I will destroy your enemies, O lord of the night, even if they be Indra or the sun-god Vivasvat, Fire or Wind; I would fight even Kubera and Varuna for you. Even mighty Indra would tremble before one whose body is like a mountain, who wields a massive iron club, who bellows in battle, his fangs sharp as razors. “If Rama dares to strike me again, I shall drink his blood as I please—so be at ease, brother. By killing Dasaratha’s son, I will win you the victory you desire; having slain Rama and Lakshmana, I will devour the foremost leaders among the monkeys. Enjoy yourself as you wish, drink the finest liquors, perform whatever tasks you find pleasing, and set aside your anxieties. Once I have sent Rama to the abode of Yama, Sita will remain under your control for as long as you desire.” Thus ended the thirteenth sarga. Perceiving Ravana’s anger, the mighty Mahapārśva, after a moment’s thought, approached with joined palms and spoke: “Truly, any man who, having entered a forest teeming with deer and wild beasts, finds honey but does not drink it, would be a fool. Who is lord here, subduer of your enemies? Enjoy yourself with Vaidehi, having vanquished your foes and placed your foot upon their heads! Act decisively, O mighty one, like a cock among hens—seize Sita again and again, take your pleasure as you wish. “Once your desire is fulfilled, what fear can trouble you afterwards? Whatever comes, whether at the right time or not, you will surely overcome it. Kumbhakarṇa, together with us, and mighty Indrajit, can stand against even Indra wielding his thunderbolt. We have surpassed all other means—gifts, conciliation, division—so now I favor the use of force to achieve our aims. All enemies who have come here, O king, we shall subdue by the power of our weapons—there can be no doubt.” Hearing these words, Ravana honored Mahapārśva’s counsel and replied, “Mahapārśva, listen as I reveal to you a secret from long ago. Once, I saw Puñjikasthalā as she flew toward Brahma’s abode, shining in the sky like a tongue of flame, her wings fluttering. I overpowered her and violated her, stripping her of her garments. Like a swaying lotus, she reached the Self-born’s abode. “From that day, a curse was pronounced: if I ever forced myself upon another woman, my head would split into a hundred pieces—there is no doubt. Fearing that curse, I have never forced Sita, the daughter of Videha, to ascend my splendid bed. My speed is like the ocean’s surge, my swiftness like the wind’s—yet Dasaratha’s son does not know this, nor can he reach me. “Who would wish to awaken a lion sleeping in a mountain cave, or rouse death itself when it sits in anger? Rama does not see the arrows I unleash in battle—they are like venomous serpents with two tongues—so he dares to approach me. Soon, with arrows as hard as thunderbolts shot from my bow, I will set Rama ablaze, like meteors burning an elephant. Surrounded by my great power, I will seize his strength, just as the rising sun at dawn robs the stars of their brilliance. Not even Indra, thousand-eyed, nor Varuna, can defeat me in battle; long ago, I conquered this city—once ruled by Vaisravana—with the strength of my arms.” Thus ended the fourteenth sarga. Hearing the words of the lord of the rākṣasas and the fierce boasts of Kumbhakarṇa, Vibhīṣaṇa, chief among the rākṣasas, spoke words both beneficial and full of meaning. “O king, by whom is your great serpent Sita possessed? Surrounded by coils of arms, filled with the poison of anxiety, her sharp teeth revealed in a slight smile, five-fingered, five-headed, and of immense size—who holds her thus? “Before the foremost warriors—massive as mountain peaks, armed with fangs and claws—rush upon Lanka, let Maithili be returned to the son of Dasaratha. Before Rama’s arrows, swift as the wind and hard as thunderbolts, seize the heads of the foremost rākṣasas, let Maithili be given back to Rama.” Thus, the wise Vibhīṣaṇa counseled, urging the path of righteousness and peace before calamity could befall their house.