Rāma, hear the wondrous tale of divine favor and fierce battle. At a sacred festival, the gods bestowed their blessings upon the birds. By coming into contact with the divine body, the swans were granted everlasting charm and would experience unsurpassed delight—a sign of favor that would forever mark them. In those days, the swans were blue with hints of white, their wings edged in blue, and their breasts pure as the tips of grass. Then, Vaiśravaṇa, lord of wealth, addressed the heron who dwelled upon the mountain. Pleased with the heron's devotion, he granted it a golden color, declaring, “Your head and its crest shall always be substantial and never diminish; this golden hue is yours by my favor.” Thus, after granting boons to the birds during the sacrificial festival, the gods, accompanied by the king, returned to their own abodes. But soon, a shadow fell upon the world. Having defeated Marutta, the lord of the Rākṣasas, eager for conquest, set out toward the cities of the kings. He approached the foremost among them, those equal in greatness to Mahendra and Varuṇa, and demanded, “Grant me battle.” He insisted, “Say that you have been defeated by me—this is my unwavering resolve. If you act otherwise, release will not be possible.” The wise and righteous kings, after consulting together and recognizing the enemy’s superior strength, declared, “We have been defeated.” Among them were Duṣyanta, Suratha, Gādhi, King Gaya, and Purūravas—all these noble kings conceded defeat. Then Rāvaṇa, lord of the Rākṣasas, arrived at Ayodhyā. That city, well-guarded by King Anaraṇya, was protected as Amarāvatī is by Indra, and Anaraṇya himself was a tiger among men, equal in might to Purandara. Rāvaṇa approached the king and commanded, “Give me battle, or else declare yourself defeated.” Hearing the words of this wicked-hearted foe, King Anaraṇya, enraged, replied, “I grant you single combat, O lord of rākṣasas. Stand ready at once; as you are, so shall I be.” The mighty army of Anaraṇya, as had been heard before, emerged eager for the destruction of the rākṣasas. Ten thousand elephants, a hundred thousand horses, countless chariots, and foot soldiers poured forth, filling the earth as they advanced into battle. A great and fierce fight began. Between King Anaraṇya and Rāvaṇa, an astonishing battle unfolded as the armies clashed. But all of Anaraṇya’s forces were destroyed, consumed like offerings in fire after fighting valiantly for a long time. The army was annihilated, entering the tumult like moths to a flame, perishing as offerings in fire. The king watched as his mighty army was destroyed, like hundreds of forest streams flowing into the great ocean. Undeterred, Anaraṇya strung his bow, resembling that of Indra, and, filled with wrath, confronted Rāvaṇa. Anaraṇya defeated Rāvaṇa’s ministers—Mārīca, Śuka, Sāraṇa, and Prahasta—who fled like frightened deer. Then, the delight of the Ikṣvāku line rained down eight hundred arrows upon the head of the rākṣasa king. Yet, those arrows caused no injury, just as streams of rain falling from clouds do not harm a mountain’s peak. Then, the enraged Rāvaṇa struck Anaraṇya on the head with his palm, causing the king to fall from his chariot. Anaraṇya lay on the ground, his limbs unsteady and trembling, like a śāla tree struck down by a thunderbolt in the forest. Laughing, Rāvaṇa addressed the fallen king, “What fruit have you gained by fighting against me? There is no one in the three worlds, O king of men, who could stand against me in single combat. I suspect you are too attached to pleasures and do not recognize my strength.” To these words, the king, his senses dulled, replied, “What can be done here? For time is impossible to overcome. I have not been defeated by you, O self-praising Rākṣasa; it is by time alone that I have fallen, and you are merely the occasion. What indeed can I do now, as my life comes to its end? I have not turned away in battle, nor have I been slain by you while fleeing.” Out of respect for the Ikṣvāku line, Anaraṇya spoke, “If I have given, if I have offered, if I have performed good austerities, then in this very lineage of the great-souled Ikṣvākus, a son named Rāma, son of Daśaratha, will be born—he will take your life.” As this curse was uttered, divine drums sounded, struck by the gods, and a rain of flowers fell from the sky. Afterward, the king, lord of kings, ascended to the realm of the gods, and when he had gone to heaven, the Rākṣasa withdrew. Then, the lord of the Rākṣasas, terrifying mortals on earth, encountered Nārada, the foremost of sages, amid a dense cloud. Rāvaṇa, the night-wanderer, offered his respects, inquired after the sage’s welfare and the reason for his coming. Nārada, radiant and great among the gods, standing upon a cloud, addressed Rāvaṇa, who was seated in the Puṣpaka chariot.