With earnest resolve, the sage Viśvāmitra assured King Daśaratha, “I promise you—know that those two demons will be slain. I know Rāma, the great-souled one, whose valor is true.” He spoke with conviction, for he recognized Rāma’s exceptional nature. Viśvāmitra reminded the king that Vasiṣṭha, radiant in ascetic power, and all those steadfast in austerity also knew Rāma’s worth. “If you desire righteousness and supreme fame on earth,” the sage continued, “if you desire steadfastness, O king, you should grant me Rāma—provided your ministers, O descendant of Kakutstha, give their approval.” Viśvāmitra urged, “Let all your counselors, with Vasiṣṭha at their head, consent, and you should give me your son Rāma, who is dear to you and unattached.” He explained that the period of the sacrifice would be ten nights, and Rāma, lotus-eyed, would not be delayed beyond that time, as he had promised. Having spoken thus, the great and radiant sage Viśvāmitra fell silent. Hearing these auspicious words, King Daśaratha, sovereign among kings, was seized by great sorrow. He trembled and became faint, but regaining his senses, he rose, filled with fear and anxiety. The king, his heart and mind pierced by the sage’s request, wavered and rose from his seat, deeply troubled. Now begins the twentieth sarga. Listen. Hearing Viśvāmitra’s words, Daśaratha, the tiger among kings, was for a moment insensible. Regaining his composure, he spoke: “My Rāma, lotus-eyed, is not yet sixteen years old; I do not see him fit for battle with the Rākṣasas. This is my army, an Akṣauhiṇī, over which I am lord and master; with this force I shall go and fight those night-roaming demons. My servants are valiant and mighty, skilled in weapons; they are fit to fight the hosts of Rākṣasas—you should not take Rāma. I myself, bow in hand, will protect you at the forefront of battle; as long as I have life, I shall fight the night-dwellers. Your vow will be fulfilled without hindrance and kept safe; I will go there, you should not take Rāma.” The king pleaded further, “He is a boy, untrained in knowledge, and does not know strength or weakness; he is not endowed with the power of weapons, nor skilled in battle. He is not fit to face the Rākṣasas, for they fight deceitfully. Separated from Rāma, I cannot endure even for a moment. To live, O best of sages, I cannot bear to be without Rāma; but if you, O noble one, wish to take Rāghava, then take him with me, accompanied by a fourfold army. O Kauśika, I am already sixty thousand years old. He was obtained with great difficulty; you should not take Rāma. Of my four sons, my affection for him is supreme. You should not take Rāma, who is the eldest and foremost in righteousness.” Daśaratha’s concern deepened. “What is the power of those Rākṣasas, whose sons are they, and who are they? How strong are they, and who protects them, O best of sages? And how should Rāma oppose those Rākṣasas? Should I, with my own forces or with deceitful warriors, confront them in battle, O revered one? Tell me everything, how I should face them in war. One must stand firm against those of wicked intent, for the Rākṣasas are exceedingly proud of their strength.” Hearing these words, Viśvāmitra replied, “There is a Rākṣasa named Rāvaṇa, born in the lineage of Paulastya. Granted a boon by Brahmā, he greatly troubles the three worlds. He is immensely powerful and mighty, surrounded by many Rākṣasas. It is said, O great king, that Rāvaṇa is the lord of the Rākṣasas. He is the brother of Vaiśravaṇa and the son of the sage Viśravas. Yet he himself does not directly disrupt the sacrifice, O mighty one. Urged by him, two Rākṣasas of immense strength—Mārīca and Subāhu—are set to disrupt the sacrifice.” Daśaratha pleaded, “Therefore, O knower of righteousness, show favor to my son. For I am of little fortune, and you, revered one, are like a deity to me. Gods, Dānavas, Gandharvas, Yakṣas, birds, and serpents are unable to withstand Rāvaṇa; how much less, then, can humans face him in battle? Rāvaṇa, in battle, takes the strength of the mighty. Therefore, I am unable to fight him or his forces. Even with my own strength, O best of sages, or together with my sons, I could in no way withstand in battle one who is like an immortal and skilled in warfare. O Brāhmaṇa, I will not give my young son, nor will I give the boy, even though my two sons are equal to Sunda and Upasunda in battle. Those two, Mārīca and Subāhu, who disrupt the sacrifice, are mighty and well-trained; I will not give my son. With my friends and allies, I myself will go to fight one of them; otherwise, I will implore you, along with your kinsmen.” Thus, from the king’s words to the chief of the twice-born, a great anger entered the son of Kuśika. Like fire well kindled and brightened with ghee in a sacrifice, the fire of the great sage blazed forth. Now begins the twenty-first sarga. Listen. Hearing those words, choked with affection, the sage Kauśika, filled with anger, replied to the king. “Having previously given your word, you now wish to abandon your promise; such a reversal does not befit the house of Raghu, nor this noble lineage. If this is your decision, O King, I shall depart as I came; O descendant of Kakutstha, be happy and well-regarded, though you have broken your promise.