Viśvāmitra, the great sage, addressed King Daśaratha with earnestness and clarity. “O best of men,” he said, “I have undertaken a sacred vow, intent on its fulfillment. Yet, there are two demons, masters of illusion, who constantly obstruct my rites. Whenever my vow is nearly complete—after many arduous repetitions—these two powerful and cunning beings, Mārīca and Subāhu, appear. With their dark magic, they shower the altar with streams of flesh and blood, defiling the sacred ground and frustrating the completion of my sacrifice. “Each time this happens, weary and disheartened, I am forced to withdraw from the site. Still, O king, I do not let anger overtake me. Such is the practice; the curse that plagues my rites remains unbroken. Therefore, O tiger among kings, I seek your help: grant me your son Rāma, whose valor is beyond doubt. “You should entrust your eldest son, Rāma—the heroic youth whose hair is dark as a crow’s wing—to me. Protected by my own spiritual power, he will be more than capable. He alone will destroy these demons who defile the sacrifice, and I will bestow upon him many blessings—this is certain. By his deeds, his fame will resound throughout the three worlds, for neither Mārīca nor Subāhu can withstand Rāma in any way. “No one but Rāma, son of Raghu, can slay these two demons, who are drunk with their own strength and bound by the noose of fate. They are not his equals, O great king; let not your affection for your son cloud your judgement. “I promise you: those two demons will be slain. I know Rāma’s greatness and his true valor. The sage Vasiṣṭha, radiant in his ascetic power, and all who are steadfast in austerity, know this as well. If you desire righteousness and supreme fame in this world, O king—if you wish to be steadfast in virtue—then grant me Rāma, provided your ministers agree. “Let Vasiṣṭha and your counselors give their consent, and then entrust me with your beloved son, Rāma, who is unattached and pure. The period of the sacrifice is ten nights; Rāma, lotus-eyed, will not be delayed beyond that time, as I have said.” Having spoken thus, the illustrious sage Viśvāmitra fell silent. Upon hearing these auspicious words, King Daśaratha, lord of kings, was seized by great sorrow. He trembled and became faint, but after a moment, regaining his composure, he rose—his heart filled with fear and anxiety. The sage’s words had pierced him deeply, and the noble king, troubled and wavering, stood up from his seat. Now begins the next chapter of the tale. Regaining his senses, Daśaratha, the tiger among kings, addressed Viśvāmitra. “O revered sage, my Rāma, lotus-eyed, is not yet sixteen years old. I do not see him fit for battle with Rākṣasas. I have a mighty army, an entire Akṣauhiṇī, over which I am lord. With this force, I will go and fight those night-roaming demons myself. “My servants are valiant and skilled in arms; they are fit to face the Rākṣasas. Please, do not take Rāma. I myself, bow in hand, will protect you at the forefront of battle. As long as there is life in me, I will fight the night-dwellers and keep your vow safe and unhindered. Let me go; do not take Rāma. “He is but a boy, untrained in the ways of war, knowing neither strength nor weakness. He has not mastered the use of weapons, nor is he skilled in battle. The Rākṣasas fight with cunning and deceit; he is not fit to face them. And, O sage, I cannot bear to be separated from Rāma, not even for a moment. “If you truly wish to take Rāghava, then let me come as well, with my fourfold army. O Kauśika, I am already sixty thousand years old. Rāma was obtained after great difficulty; of my four sons, my affection for him is greatest. “Please, do not take my eldest, righteous Rāma. Tell me, what is the power of these Rākṣasas? Whose sons are they, and who are they? How strong are they, and who protects them, O best of sages? How should Rāma oppose such foes? Should I confront them with my own forces, or with warriors skilled in cunning? Tell me all, so I may know how to face them in battle. “One must stand firm against those of wicked intent, for these Rākṣasas are proud of their strength.” Hearing these words, Viśvāmitra replied, “There is a Rākṣasa named Rāvaṇa, born in the line of Paulastya. Granted a boon by Brahmā, he greatly troubles the three worlds. He is immensely powerful, surrounded by many Rākṣasas, and is known as their lord. He is the brother of Vaiśravaṇa and the son of the sage Viśravas. Yet, O mighty king, it is not Rāvaṇa himself who disrupts the sacrifice. “Urged on by him, two Rākṣasas of terrible strength—Mārīca and Subāhu—are sent to defile the sacred rites. “Therefore, O knower of righteousness, show favor to my request. I am of little fortune, and you, O revered one, are like a deity to me. Know that even gods, Dānavas, Gandharvas, Yakṣas, birds, and serpents cannot withstand Rāvaṇa; how, then, could mere humans hope to face him in battle?” Thus unfolded the earnest and sacred dialogue between sage and king, filled with concern, duty, and the promise of destiny.