At the edge of the forest, where the trees—āragvadha, tamāla, priyāla, vakula, and others—shone brightly, the atmosphere was alive with beauty and music. Kinnaras, tormented by love, sang sweetly with passionate voices, their harmonies blending together and increasing the delight of all who listened. The trees themselves seemed to celebrate, their blossoms illuminating the woods, as Vidyādharas, intoxicated, played and rejoiced with their women amidst the lush foliage. From the mansion of the Lord of Wealth, the sweet resonance of bells mingled with the melodious singing of Apsarases, filling the air with enchantment. The wind, gentle and fragrant, swept through the trees, causing showers of flowers to fall and perfuming the mountain with the scent of honey and spring blossoms. This breeze, rich with the aroma of honey, flowers, and pollen, blew pleasantly, intensifying Rāvaṇa’s desire. With the singing, the abundance of flowers, the cool breeze, the mountain’s beauty, the coming of night, and the rise of the moon, Rāvaṇa, mighty as he was, found himself overwhelmed by longing. He sighed deeply, gazing again and again at the moon, unable to contain his yearning. At that moment, the foremost among Apsarases, Rambhā, appeared. She was adorned with divine ornaments and celestial flowers, her limbs anointed with sandalwood, her hair decorated with mandāra blossoms, and her face radiant like the full moon. Her captivating eyes, full hips adorned with a jeweled girdle, and freshly made ornaments from all six seasons made her a vision of beauty. Draped in a dark blue garment like a rain-filled cloud, she shone with both radiance and modesty. Her face was moon-like, her eyebrows shaped like bows, her thighs like the trunks of young elephants, and her arms soft as tender shoots. As she walked through the midst of the army, Rāvaṇa’s gaze was fixed intently upon her. Overcome by the arrows of desire, he rose, took her shy hand, and spoke to her with a smile: “Where are you going, O slender-waisted one? What success do you seek? For whom is this moment of fortune—who will enjoy your company? Who today will taste the nectar of your lotus- and water-lily-scented mouth? O timid one, whose chest will your two full, auspicious breasts, resembling golden jars, touch? Who will ascend your broad hips, adorned with golden chains and resembling a golden disc, like paradise itself? Who is superior to me today—Indra, Viṣṇu, or the Aśvins? It is not proper that you pass me by and go to another. Rest here, O broad-hipped one, on this beautiful stone slab. In the three worlds, there is no lord but me.” With joined palms and humility, Daśānana pleaded: “Accept me as your husband, the lord of lords and creator of the three worlds.” Trembling, Rambhā folded her hands in reverence and replied: “Be gracious; you ought not to speak thus, for you are my superior. If I were to suffer outrage, it is you who should protect me from others. By law, I am your daughter-in-law, and I speak this truthfully.” Daśagrīva then addressed her as she stood with her face turned to his feet, her body bristling with horripilation at his mere sight: “If you are the wife of my son, then you are indeed my daughter-in-law.” Rambhā replied, “So it is.” She continued, “By law, I am the wife of your son, O foremost of Rākṣasas. Your brother Vaiśravaṇa’s son, dearest to you as life itself, is renowned in the three worlds as Nalakūbara. By righteousness, one is a brāhmaṇa; by valor, a kṣatriya; by anger, fire; and by forbearance, equal to the earth. I am pledged to the son of the guardian of the worlds; all these ornaments of mine are worn for him alone. No one else has such a disposition toward me as he does. By that truth, O king, subduer of enemies, you ought to release me. He, righteous in soul, is eagerly waiting for me; you should not create an obstacle for your son—let me go. Follow the path practiced by the virtuous, O foremost of Rākṣasas; you are to be honored by me, and I am likewise to be protected by you.” Thus addressed, Daśagrīva replied humbly, “Daughter-in-law, what you have said about monogamy—this is the way among the gods, an eternal order in the divine realms. Among the Apsarases there is no husband, nor is there the taking of only one wife.” Having said this, the Rākṣasa placed her upon a stone slab and, overcome by desire, began to approach her sexually. Rambhā, released, her garlands and ornaments fallen away, became like a river agitated by the play of a lordly elephant. Her hair was disheveled, her tender hands trembling, like a flowering creeper shaken by the wind, as if a bride. Trembling, ashamed, and fearful, with hands joined in reverence, Rambhā approached Nalakūbara and fell at his feet.