Behold the terrible fate that befell King Daṇḍa, whose lack of self-restraint brought upon him a calamity as fierce as a blazing fire. This destruction descended not only upon Daṇḍa himself, but upon all his followers, for in his arrogance he sought to touch the very flame of fire, disregarding all righteousness. Because he committed such a dreadful and heinous sin, this wicked-minded king would inevitably reap the bitter fruit of his evil deed. It was foretold that within seven nights, Daṇḍa—together with his servants, his army, and all his vehicles—would perish, his sinful actions sealing his doom. A hundred yojanas around his domain, a devastating rain of dust would fall, decreed by the ruler of punishment, consuming the territory of that wicked king. All creatures, both moving and unmoving, would be destroyed everywhere by this great rain of dust. For as long as the territory of punishment extended, for seven nights, an impenetrable rain of dust would cover everything, making it unseeable. Having spoken these words, his eyes reddened with anger, the sage instructed the residents of the hermitage, "Let the people remain at the edge of the settlement." Hearing the words of the sage Ushanas, the people of the hermitage departed from that territory and settled themselves outside its bounds. Then, addressing the ascetics, Ushanas said, "Remain here, O wicked-minded one, in the hermitage with full concentration." He pointed to a beautiful, radiant lake, a yojana in extent, and said, "Dwell here, free from dust and fever, and await the appointed time. Those beings who come to dwell near you during that night will always be spared from the rain of dust." Bhargavi, greatly distressed, heard the command of the Brahmarshi. She replied to her father, Bhargava, "So be it." Having spoken thus, Bhargava arranged for his dwelling elsewhere. Just as the speaker of Brahman had foretold, the kingdom of Daṇḍa, along with his servants, army, and vehicles, was reduced to ashes in seven days. That territory of Daṇḍa, lying between the Vindhya and Shaiva mountains, was cursed by the Brahmarshi because of the unrighteous act committed there. From that time onward, O Kakutstha, it became known as the Dandaka forest, a place where ascetics dwell, and thus it came to be called Janasthana. Having recounted all this, the sage said to Rāma, "O Raghava, I have answered your questions; the time for worshipping at twilight is passing, O hero." All the great sages, with water pots in hand, having performed their ablutions, were now worshipping the sun. The sun, worshipped by these Brahmins and the best knowers of Brahman, has set, O Rāma; go and touch water for purification. Thus ended the eighty-first sarga in the glorious Uttarakanda of the venerable Ramayana, the ancient poem of Valmiki. Having understood the sage’s words, Rāma went to perform the evening worship at a sacred lake attended by hosts of apsarases. There, after touching the water and completing the evening twilight rites, Rāma entered the hermitage of the great-souled Agastya, the son of the pot. Agastya prepared for him many kinds of roots, tubers, medicinal herbs, and pure grains such as rice, offering them for Rāma’s meal. That best of men ate the food, which was like nectar, and, pleased and satisfied, he spent the night there. At dawn, rising early and performing his daily rites, the subduer of enemies and best of the Raghu line approached the sage to take his leave. Bowing respectfully, Rāma said to the great sage born from the pot, "I seek your permission to return to my own city. I am blessed and favored by the sight of the great-souled one; I will come again to see you, for my own purification." As Kākutstha spoke these wondrous words, the sage, rich in asceticism and guided by righteousness, replied with great delight: "Your speech, Rāma, is truly wondrous and auspicious; you alone, O joy of the Raghus, are the purifier of all beings. Even those who see you, Rāma, for a moment, are purified, become fit for heaven, and are always honored by the gods. And those creatures on earth who look upon you with hostile eyes are immediately struck down by Yama’s rod and go to hell. Such are you, best of the Raghus, purifier of all embodied beings; even those who speak of you on earth, O Rāghava, will attain success. Go, free from obstacles and without fear, along a safe path; rule your kingdom with righteousness, for you are the refuge of the world." Thus addressed by the sage, the wise king, with joined palms, respectfully saluted the virtuous seer. Having bowed to Agastya and to all the ascetics, he calmly ascended the Puṣpaka, the wondrous chariot adorned with gold. As he departed, groups of sages honored him from all sides with blessings, just as the immortals worship Indra of a thousand eyes. Seated at ease in the golden Puṣpaka, Rāma shone like the moon near a cloud at the coming of the rainy season. Then, when half the day had passed, being honored along the way, Kākutstha reached Ayodhyā and descended into the central courtyard. Having dismissed the splendid, wish-fulfilling Puṣpaka chariot, the lord released it with the words, "Go, and may you fare well." Rāma then spoke to the doorkeeper who stood in the inner chamber, instructing him, "Go and summon Lakṣmaṇa and Bharata, those swift and valiant ones.