As ominous cries echoed through the air, terrifying birds circled in every direction, their shrieks filling the sky. All the animals of the earth began to move restlessly, circling in bewildering patterns. Witnessing these unsettling signs, King Daśaratha—lion among rulers—turned to the sage Vasiṣṭha with concern. “These birds are grim, and the animals are circling,” he said, anxiety evident in his voice. “What is this that makes my heart tremble, my mind sink?” Vasiṣṭha, the great sage, answered with calm sweetness, “Hear the meaning of these omens. A dreadful danger has arisen, divine in origin, and the birds themselves announce it. Yet, these circling animals are a sign of calming—let distress be set aside.” Even as they spoke, the wind began to howl, shaking the very earth. Mighty trees crashed to the ground, and the sun was suddenly veiled in darkness so deep that no one could tell east from west. Ash fell everywhere, blanketing the land and bewildering the entire army. Amidst this chaos, only Vasiṣṭha, the other sages, King Daśaratha, and his sons remained conscious and aware; all others seemed insensible in the dreadful gloom, as the army was lost beneath a shroud of ash. In that shadowy moment, the king beheld a formidable figure—a being of immense power, his matted hair piled high. It was Bhārgava, son of Jamadagni, the destroyer of kings, standing there unassailable as Mount Kailāsa, as unbearable as the fire of cosmic dissolution. He blazed with a radiance impossible for ordinary eyes to behold, an axe slung over his shoulder, a bow flashing like a cluster of lightning, and a fierce arrow in his grasp—resembling Śiva himself at the destruction of Tripura. Seeing this awe-inspiring figure, the sages led by Vasiṣṭha, devoted to sacred recitation and sacrifice, gathered together in concern. They whispered among themselves, “Will he, angered anew by his father’s killing, again destroy the warrior class?” But another replied, “He has already slain the warriors in his wrath; now his anger and fever have subsided. He does not intend destruction again.” Having spoken thus, the sages took offerings and approached Bhārgava—the terrifying one—with gentle words: “Rāma, Rāma!” Accepting their reverence, the mighty Rāma, son of Jamadagni, turned his attention to Rāma, son of Daśaratha. Now begins the seventy-fifth sarga; listen attentively. Rāma, son of Daśaratha, valorous and renowned, your extraordinary prowess is celebrated everywhere. I have heard in detail of your wondrous feat in breaking the great bow. That act, beyond imagination, has reached my ears, and so I have come, bringing with me another auspicious bow. Here is the formidable and mighty bow of Jāmadagnya. String it with an arrow and display your strength. If you succeed, I shall grant you a duel, for I wish to test your famed valor. Hearing these words, King Daśaratha’s heart sank. With downcast face and joined palms, he pleaded, “You, who have renounced your wrath against the warrior class and are a great ascetic among Brāhmaṇas, should grant safety to my young sons. Born in the Bhārgava lineage, devoted to study and vows, you pledged before Indra and set aside your weapons. You gave the earth to Kaśyapa and retired to dwell on Mount Mahendra. O great sage, have you come for our destruction? If Rāma alone is slain, none of us could bear to live.” But the mighty Jāmadagnya, unmoved by Daśaratha’s words, spoke only to Rāma. “Here are two excellent, divine bows, honored throughout the worlds—strong, powerful, and masterfully crafted by Viśvakarman. One was given by the gods to Tryambaka for battle, and it is that very bow, O descendant of Kakutstha, breaker of Tripura, which you have broken. The second, unconquerable bow was given to Viṣṇu by the gods; this is the Vaiṣṇava bow, O Rāma, conqueror of cities. “O Kakutstha, this bow is equal in power to Rudra’s bow. Long ago, the gods sought to know the relative strength of Śiva and Viṣṇu, so the Grandfather, understanding their intent, sowed enmity between those two foremost of the truthful. What followed was a great and hair-raising battle between Śiva and Viṣṇu, each striving for victory. The terrifying Śiva bow was drawn forth, and Mahādeva, the three-eyed one, was checked by a mighty roar. The gods, sages, and celestial beings gathered in awe. “At last, peace was entreated, and the two supreme deities departed, with all beholding the Śiva bow strained by Viṣṇu’s might. The gods and sages judged Viṣṇu superior, but Rudra, the illustrious one, grew angry among the Videhas. He gave his bow and its arrows to King Devarāta, the royal sage. And this bow of Viṣṇu, O Rāma, is the conqueror of enemy cities. “Viṣṇu entrusted this excellent bow to Ṛcīka Bhārgava, and Ṛcīka, of great splendor, gave it to his son, unmatched in deeds. My own father, the great-souled Jamadagni, received the divine bow when he renounced his weapons and ascetic power.” Thus, in the presence of kings and sages, the mighty Rāma of the Bhārgava line revealed the history and power of the divine bows, challenging Rāma of the Ikṣvāku line to prove his valor before all.