With deep reverence, salutations were offered to the one who shines with the brilliance of molten gold—Hari, the creator of the universe, the destroyer of darkness, the radiant witness of all worlds. Homage was paid to the lord who brings beings into existence and dissolves them, who protects, burns, and nourishes with his rays. He alone remains vigilant while others sleep, pervading all creatures—he is both the sacred Agnihotra and the fruits it bestows upon those who perform it. He is the gods themselves, the sacrifices, and the rewards of those sacrifices—the supreme master of all actions across every realm. “O Rāghava,” it was said, “whoever remembers him in times of calamity, hardship, wilderness, or fear, shall never be overcome. Worship him with single-minded devotion, for he is the god of gods, the lord of the world. Recite this thrice, and you shall be victorious in battle.” At that moment, Agastya, having imparted these words, assured Rāma, “Now, mighty-armed one, you shall slay Rāvaṇa.” With his message delivered, the sage departed as he had come. Hearing this sacred counsel, Rāma, the great-souled, felt his sorrow melt away. Pleased and composed, he firmly retained the teachings within his heart. Gazing up at the sun and reciting the hymn, Rāma was filled with supreme joy. He purified himself with three ablutions, then, mighty and resolute, took up his bow. Spying Rāvaṇa on the battlefield, Rāma’s heart surged with delight, and with unwavering resolve, he advanced to confront his foe, determined to bring about his destruction. At that moment, the sun, beholding Rāma, spoke joyfully, radiant with supreme delight. Among the hosts of gods, the sun, knowing the imminent downfall of the lord of the night-walkers, swiftly uttered auspicious words. Now begins the one hundred and sixth sarga in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, within the Yuddha Kāṇḍa. Rāvaṇa’s charioteer, jubilant, drove forth a chariot that struck terror into the enemy ranks. It resembled a city of the Gandharvas, its banners raised high. The chariot was yoked with the finest horses, adorned with golden garlands, filled with weapons, and draped in banners and flags. It seemed to devour the very sky, its thunderous noise resounding across the earth, bringing ruin to the enemy and joy to its own. With great swiftness, the charioteer urged Rāvaṇa’s chariot onward, its great banner fluttering as it surged forward with a mighty roar. The king of men, Rāma, beheld the chariot of the king of the rākṣasas, drawn by black horses and ablaze with fierce brilliance. It shone in the sky like a celestial vehicle, radiant as the sun, its banners flashing like lightning, displaying the splendor of Indra’s weapon. From this chariot, arrows streamed forth like rain from a storm cloud. Rāma watched as the enemy’s chariot, dark as a thundercloud, rushed forward. Its sound was like that of a mountain struck by a thunderbolt, splitting asunder. With force, Rāma drew his bow, curved like a crescent moon. He spoke to Mātaḷi, charioteer of the thousand-eyed Indra: “Mātaḷi, behold the enemy’s chariot, surging in fury. It speeds past to the left, swift as the wind, intent on its own destruction. Be ever vigilant—confront the enemy’s chariot. I wish to shatter it, as the wind scatters a gathering cloud. Drive our chariot swiftly and steadily, unwavering, keeping the reins firm and your heart resolute. You need no instruction, skilled as you are with Indra’s chariot. I speak not to teach, but to remind you in the heat of battle.” Mātaḷi, the excellent charioteer of the gods, delighted by Rāma’s words, urged the chariot onward. Turning to the left of Rāvaṇa’s mighty chariot, he raised a cloud of dust with the wheels, scattering it toward Rāvaṇa. Enraged, the ten-headed Rāvaṇa, his eyes blazing red, unleashed a shower of arrows upon Rāma as their chariots faced each other. Insulted but self-controlled, Rāma restrained his anger with courage and seized Indra’s mighty bow. He took up swift arrows, shining like the rays of the sun. A great battle erupted, each warrior intent on the other’s destruction, like two proud lions confronting one another. The gods, Gandharvas, Siddhas, and great sages gathered to witness this epic duel, their hearts yearning for Rāvaṇa’s defeat. Ominous and terrifying signs appeared, foretelling Rāvaṇa’s destruction and Rāma’s ascent. Blood rained from the sky onto Rāvaṇa’s chariot, and fierce, circling winds swept to the left. Above, a vast flock of vultures wheeled in the sky, following the chariot’s every move. Lankā was shrouded in a twilight glow, like red hibiscus flowers, and the earth itself seemed to burn with fire even in daylight. Thunder crashed and meteors fell with loud reports, striking terror into the hearts of Rāvaṇa’s demon hosts. Wherever Rāvaṇa moved, the earth trembled, and the arms of his fighting demons seemed seized by unseen hands. The sun cast strange rays—coppery, yellow, white, and pale—before Rāvaṇa, shining like ores upon a mountain. Vultures, fierce and inauspicious, followed him, spewing fire from their mouths, circling and gazing intently at his face. On the battlefield, a contrary wind arose, hurling dust and obscuring the vision of the king of the Rākṣasas, as the fateful duel drew near its climax.