In a time of great trials, the noble sage Viśvāmitra approached the king, a true tiger among rulers, with a heavy heart and a determined spirit. He implored the king to fulfill a solemn resolve that lay within his heart, a task that was essential and yet hindered by dark forces. “O best of men,” he began, “I have taken a vow, yet two formidable demons, Mārīca and Subāhu, stand in my way, able to assume any form they desire.” As Viśvāmitra spoke, he recounted how these demons had thwarted his efforts time and again, appearing just as his sacred vow approached completion. They would rain down flesh and blood upon the altar, defiling its purity and obstructing the fulfillment of his sacred duty. Exhausted and disheartened, he had retreated, but anger had not taken root in his heart. Instead, he sought the king’s aid, urging him to entrust his son, Rāma, to him. “Give me your eldest son, Rāma,” Viśvāmitra declared, his voice filled with conviction. “He is a heroic youth, with hair as dark as a crow’s wing. Protected by my divine power, he possesses the strength to vanquish those demons. I assure you, there is no doubt that he will succeed where others have failed.” The sage painted a vivid picture of Rāma’s destiny, proclaiming that through him, fame would be attained in all three worlds, and Mārīca and Subāhu would be no match for his valor. “Only Rāma, son of Raghu, can defeat these arrogant demons, bound as they are by the noose of time,” he urged, emphasizing that affection should not sway the king's judgment. “Know that they will be slain by him. Vasiṣṭha, radiant in ascetic power, and all those steadfast in austerity recognize Rāma’s greatness. If you desire righteousness and supreme fame, grant me your son. Let your ministers give their approval, and with Vasiṣṭha leading them, allow me to take Rāma for the duration of the sacrifice, which lasts ten nights.” As Viśvāmitra fell silent, the king was overcome by sorrow. The sage's words pierced his heart, and he trembled with fear and anxiety. Regaining his composure, he spoke, his voice tinged with concern. “My Rāma, lotus-eyed and youthful, is not yet sixteen. He is still a boy, and I fear he is not ready to face the Rākṣasas in battle. I have an Akṣauhiṇī army at my command, valiant and skilled in weapons; I will go forth to confront those night-roaming demons myself.” The king’s heart was heavy as he continued, “I will protect you, bow in hand, and ensure your vow is fulfilled without hindrance. Rāma is untrained in the ways of battle and does not know strength from weakness. He is not fit to face the Rākṣasas, who fight with deceit. I cannot bear to be separated from him, O best of sages. If you must take Rāma, then let him come with me, accompanied by my full army.” He lamented the difficulty with which he had obtained Rāma, expressing his supreme affection for the boy, the eldest and most righteous of his sons. “What power do these Rākṣasas possess? Who are they, and who protects them? How can Rāma oppose such formidable foes? Should I confront them with my own forces or with deceitful warriors? Please, tell me how I should face them in battle.” Hearing the king’s heartfelt concerns, Viśvāmitra spoke with authority. “There is a Rākṣasa named Rāvaṇa, born of the lineage of Paulastya, granted immense power by Brahmā. He troubles the three worlds and is surrounded by many Rākṣasas. Though he does not directly disrupt the sacrifice, he has set Mārīca and Subāhu upon it.” “Therefore, O knower of righteousness, I implore you to show favor to my son,” the sage concluded, his voice resonating with the urgency of the moment. “For I am of little fortune, and you, revered one, are like a deity to me.” The weight of the sage’s words hung in the air, as the king faced the gravitas of the situation, torn between his love for Rāma and the pressing need to fulfill the sacred vow.