Hearing his father’s words, the son respectfully took them to heart. Accompanied by his devoted wife, his son, attendants, vehicle, and wealth, he departed as instructed. Prahasta, filled with joy, proceeded to Daśagrīva and, together with his ministers and younger brother, addressed him. He said, “The city of Laṅkā now stands empty, abandoned by Kubera. Enter it with us and uphold your own duty.” Thus urged by Prahasta, the mighty Daśagrīva entered Laṅkā with his brothers and followers. He ascended the city, which Kubera had left behind—a city with great, well-divided roads—just as the lord of the gods would ascend to heaven. Consecrated by the night-wandering beings, Daśānana established his residence there, and the city became completely filled with night-wanderers, dark as rain clouds. Meanwhile, Kubera, honoring his father’s command, founded a new city on a pure mountain, adorned with splendid buildings, rivaling the grandeur of Indra’s Amarāvatī. Once Daśagrīva, the king of the rākṣasas, had been consecrated alongside his brothers, he considered what gift he might give to his rākṣasī sister. He gave his sister, Śūrpaṇakhā, in marriage to Kālakeya, the lord of the dānavas, also known as Vidyujjihva. After bestowing his sister’s hand, Daśagrīva himself wandered for sport, hunting in the wilds. There, he encountered Maya, the son of Diti, who was accompanied by a maiden. Daśagrīva, the night-wanderer, asked, “Who are you, alone in this forest devoid of men and beasts? Why do you remain here with this girl, whose eyes resemble those of a fawn?” Maya replied, “Listen, and I will tell you everything as it happened to me. Hemā is the name of an apsaras—you may have heard of her—whom the gods gave to me, just as Paulomī was given to Śatakratu. My mind was wholly attached to her for five hundred years, but she departed to fulfill the work of the gods, and thirteen years have now passed since then. After fourteen years, I created a golden city adorned with jewels of diamond and beryl through my art. There I dwelled, miserable and greatly afflicted, deprived of her. From that city, taking my daughter—my own child, who grew in Hemā’s womb—I came to this forest. With her, I now seek a husband for her, for the fatherhood of a maiden is indeed painful for all who desire honor. A maiden always remains in a state of uncertainty between two families. In this wife of mine, two sons were also born to me: the first was Māyāvī, and after him came Dundubhi. Thus I have told you all, as you asked. But now, dear one, who are you?” To this, the courteous rākṣasa replied, “I am the son of Pulastya, known as Daśagrīva. The sage Viśravas, third son of Brahmā, is my father.” Hearing this, the Dānava Maya was delighted to recognize the great sage’s son and wished to give him his daughter. Smiling, Maya took his daughter’s hand and said to the king of the rākṣasas, “O king, this is my daughter Mandodarī, born to Hemā the celestial nymph. Accept her as your wife.” Daśagrīva replied, “So be it.” There, invoking fire as witness, he performed the joining of hands with Mandodarī. Knowing of a curse from an ascetic, and aware of Daśagrīva’s noble lineage, Maya gave his daughter to him. He also bestowed upon Daśagrīva a wondrous, unfailing weapon, won through severe austerity—the very weapon by which Lakṣmaṇa would one day be struck down. Having thus gained a wife, the lord of Laṅkā returned to the city with his new bride and his brothers. Daśagrīva chose for his brother Kumbhakarṇa a wife named Vajrajvālī, granddaughter of Vairocana. Vibhīṣaṇa took as his wife Saramā, the virtuous daughter of Śailūṣa, the great-souled king of the Gandharvas. The lake Mānasa grew greatly with the coming of the rains. Out of affection, the mother of that maiden cried out, “O lake, do not increase!” Thus the maiden became known as Saramā. Having taken wives, the rākṣasas reveled in happiness, each with his own spouse, like Gandharvas in the Nandana gardens. In time, Mandodarī bore a son, Meghanāda—the one you know as Indrajit. At his birth, the child let out a mighty roar, like thunderclouds, and by that cry, the city of Laṅkā was rendered insensible. His father himself named him Meghanāda. The boy grew up within the splendid inner chambers of Rāvaṇa, guarded by exceptional women and concealed like fire hidden within wood. He brought great joy to his mother and father. Then, after some time, a fierce sleep, sent by the lord of the worlds, descended upon Kumbhakarṇa and took form.