Rāma and the mighty Lakṣmaṇa were filled with joy as they witnessed the honor shown to Maithilī, Sītā—a recognition so rare among humankind. The delighting Rāma, his face radiant like the moon, spent that auspicious night, warmly welcomed by ascetics and perfected beings who dwelled in the forest. When dawn arrived and the night had passed, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, those tigers among men, performed the fire rituals for the ascetics and took leave of the forest-dwelling hermits. The righteous ascetics spoke to them of the dangers lurking in the forest, warning that it was overrun by rākṣasas—man-eaters of many forms—and wild beasts who fed on blood. “O Rāghava,” they said, “in this great forest, these creatures attack ascetics devoted to righteousness, whether they are careless or have leftovers. Protect them, O Rāghava. This is the path of the great sages who gather fruits in the forest; by this way, it is proper for you to enter these difficult woods.” With joined palms, the ascetic Brāhmaṇas bestowed their blessings upon Rāma, Sītā, and Lakṣmaṇa. Thus, Rāghava, together with his wife and brother, entered the forest, like the sun disappearing into a mass of clouds. This completed the one hundred and nineteenth sarga in the Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, the first great poem. Now begins the first sarga of the Araṇya Kāṇḍa. The hermitage they approached was encircled by kuśa grass and bark garments, endowed with divine splendor, shining like the blazing orb of the sun high in the sky. It served as a refuge for all beings; its courtyard was always clean, teeming with deer and surrounded by flocks of birds. Groups of Apsarases constantly honored and attended the hermitage, which was adorned with spacious fire-altars, ladles, vessels, deerskins, and kuśa grass. Kindling sticks, water pots, fruits, and roots graced the place, and great forest trees bore auspicious, sweet fruits. Sanctified by offerings and oblations, the hermitage resounded with the chanting of Brahman, encircled by various flowers and a lotus pond. It was inhabited by self-restrained ascetics, subsisting on fruits and roots, clad in bark and black antelope skins, shining like the sun and fire, and by ancient sages. Noble sages of pure diet adorned the place, which resembled the abode of Brahmā, echoing with the chanting of sacred words. Learned and highly fortunate Brāhmaṇas were present, and the illustrious Rāghava beheld this circle of hermitages. The great-souled sages, endowed with divine knowledge, approached after stringing their mighty bows, having seen Rāma. Pleased, they greeted the illustrious Vaidehī, Sītā; seeing the righteous one shining like the rising moon, they rejoiced. Seeing Lakṣmaṇa and the renowned Vaidehī, those resolute ascetics welcomed them with auspicious blessings. The forest-dwellers, amazed, gazed at Rāma’s form, his build, his grace, his delicacy, and his splendid attire. Their eyes unblinking, they beheld Vaidehī, Lakṣmaṇa, and Rāma in wonder. Those greatly fortunate ones, devoted to the welfare of all beings, received Rāghava as a guest in their leaf-hut. Honoring Rāma according to custom, the exalted, fire-like ascetics brought water for the righteous one. With utmost joy, offering auspicious blessings, they presented roots, flowers, fruits, and all the resources of the great soul’s hermitage. Having offered these, those knowers of dharma, with joined palms, spoke: “You, protector of dharma and refuge of the people, famed one—The king, wielder of the rod, is to be honored and respected; like a fourth part of Indra, Rāghava protects the people. Therefore, the king, worshipped, enjoys the finest pleasures; we, the dwellers in your domain, must be protected by you. Whether in the city or the forest, you are our king, lord of the people. We, O king, have laid down the rod, conquered anger and the senses; always, you must protect us ascetics, who are like embryos, rich in austerity.” Having spoken thus, they honored Rāghava and Lakṣmaṇa with fruits, roots, flowers, and various forest foods. Likewise, other ascetics and perfected beings, righteous in conduct and radiant like fire, satisfied Rāma, the lord, as was proper. Now begins the second chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Araṇya Kāṇḍa. After receiving hospitality, Rāma took leave of all the sages and set out toward the sunrise, entering the forest. Accompanied by Lakṣmaṇa, Rāma saw the heart of the forest, where no birds called, but the crickets resounded. There, together with Sītā, the descendant of Kakutstha beheld a man-eater—terrible and loud, surrounded by fierce beasts, resembling a mountain peak. With deep-set eyes, a huge mouth, a grotesque and swollen belly, hideous, uneven, tall, deformed, and terrifying to behold, he wore a tiger’s hide, still wet with fat and stained with blood. He was a terror to all beings, his mouth agape like Death itself. Three lions, four tigers, two wolves, ten spotted deer, and the head of a great elephant, horned and smeared with fat, had all been impaled on an iron spike by this monster, who roared with a mighty voice. Upon seeing Rāma, Lakṣmaṇa, and Sītā of Mithilā, the dreadful man-eater confronted them in the forest’s heart.