As Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa journeyed deeper into the southern forest, they began to notice subtle signs of hermit life scattered all around. Here and there, neat piles of collected firewood stood ready for use, and freshly cut darbha grass, gleaming like cat’s eye gemstones, lay upon the ground. In the midst of the forest, a column of smoke rose high, dark and steady like the peak of a rain-laden cloud—evidence of the sacred fires burning in a hermitage. In secluded places along the water’s edge, Rāma saw twice-born sages, having finished their ritual baths, offering flowers they had gathered themselves as part of their daily worship. Observing all these signs, Rāma turned to Lakṣmaṇa and said with gentle certainty, “As I have heard from the sage Sutikshna, this must indeed be the hermitage of Agastya’s brother.” Rāma continued, “For the welfare of the world, Agastya’s brother—renowned for his virtuous deeds—once subdued Death itself and made this southern region a sanctuary. Long ago, it is said, the cruel asura brothers Vatapi and Ilvala dwelt in this very place, slayers of brahmins and mighty in their power. Ilvala, disguising himself as a brahmin, would cunningly invite holy men to a funeral feast, speaking sweet but deceitful words. After performing the funeral rites for his brother, Ilvala would transform Vatapi into the form of a ram and serve his flesh to the unsuspecting guests, as prescribed in the śrāddha ritual. When the meal was finished, Ilvala would loudly call, ‘Vātāpi, come out!’ At his brother’s summons, Vātāpi would burst forth from within the bodies of the brahmins, bleating like a ram, tearing them apart from within. In this way, those shape-shifting, flesh-eating beings destroyed thousands of brahmins together, time and again. But then, at the gods’ request, the great sage Agastya himself accepted Ilvala’s invitation and partook of the meal. When the feast was over and Ilvala called out, ‘Vātāpi, come out!’ Agastya, wise and radiant, simply smiled. He said, ‘How can one who has been digested by me—your rakshasa brother in the form of a ram, who has gone to the abode of Yama—come out?’ Hearing these words, Ilvala realized his brother was dead and, filled with fury, attacked the sage. But Agastya’s brilliance was like fire from his very eyes, and Ilvala was burned up and destroyed on the spot. This, Lakṣmaṇa, is the hermitage of that noble brother, adorned with a tranquil lake and forest, where, out of compassion for the brahmins, such a difficult and righteous deed was accomplished.” As Rāma recounted this tale to Saumitri, the sun set and the time of evening twilight arrived. Together, the brothers performed their evening worship, then entered the hermitage and greeted the resident sage. The sage welcomed them warmly, and Rāma spent the night there, content with a simple meal of roots and fruits. When dawn broke and the sun rose, Rāma respectfully took leave of Agastya’s brother. “I bow to you, venerable one. I have spent the night in comfort. Now I go to see your elder brother, my teacher.” With the sage’s blessing, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa set out again, following the indicated forest path. As they walked, they beheld wild rice, jackfruit, śāla trees, vañjulā, tinisha, ciribilva, madhūka, bilva, and tinduka trees. The forest was alive with hundreds of trees adorned with blossoming creepers, their tips heavy with flowers. Some trees bore the marks of elephants’ trunks, some were brightened by playful monkeys, and the air resounded with the cries of flocks of birds, intoxicated by the abundance of fruit and nectar. Rāma, his eyes radiant like lotuses, spoke to Lakṣmaṇa, the heroic one who followed faithfully behind him. “See, the trees are lush and glossy, the animals and birds move gently, and not far from here lies the hermitage of the great sage, whose mind is pure. That hermitage, renowned throughout the world as Agastya’s, is before us. By his own deeds, it brings relief to all who arrive weary from their journey. The forest here is thick with smoke from sacred fires, festooned with garlands of bark-cloth, peaceful with herds of deer, and alive with the songs of many birds. Agastya, desiring the welfare of all worlds, subdued Death and made this southern quarter a place of refuge through his virtue. This is the hermitage of that sage, whose power made the southern region feared by the Rākṣasas—visible to them, but never enjoyed. Since he established himself here, the night-roaming beings have become peaceful and free from enmity. The southern quarter, named in his honor, is famed in all three worlds and cannot be conquered by those of cruel deeds. It is said that the great Vindhya mountain, which once sought to block the sun’s path, now remains at its present height, obeying Agastya’s command. Behold the illustrious hermitage of Agastya, long-lived and famed for his deeds, attended by gentle deer. He is a virtuous sage, honored by all worlds, ever devoted to the welfare of the good. He will surely unite us with what is best. Here, Lakṣmaṇa, I will worship Agastya, that great sage, and here, gentle one, I will spend the remainder of our forest dwelling. In this sacred place, the gods, Gandharvas, Siddhas, and supreme seers, all with restrained diets, continually attend upon Agastya, honoring his presence and power.