Hear now the account of the nineteenth sarga in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Araṇya Kāṇḍa. When Khara, the fierce Rakshasa, saw his sister Śūrpaṇakhā fallen before him, disfigured and covered in blood, his anger flared like fire. He demanded of her, “Rise up now and tell me—cast off your confusion and fear. Clearly say who has disfigured you in this way. Who, like one toying with a deadly black serpent, has foolishly touched the tip of a snake, and who, with the noose of death already around his neck, fails to realize it out of delusion, having encountered you and drunk the supreme poison?” Khara continued, “You are strong and valiant, able to go where you wish and assume any form. By whom have you been brought to this state, as if meeting Death himself? Who among the gods, Gandharvas, spirits, or great sages possesses such might as to have disfigured you so? I see no one in the world who would dare do me harm—not even among the immortals, nor Indra, wielder of the thunderbolt. Today I will take the life of that one with my arrows, ending his existence as a swan drinks up milk from water. Whose blood, foaming and cut from his vital points by my arrows in battle, will the earth wish to drink when he is slain by me? Whose body, struck down by me in battle, will the vultures, delighted, tear apart and devour the flesh from his limbs? Neither gods, nor Gandharvas, nor spirits, nor Rakshasas will be able to save that wretch from me in the great battle. Having gradually regained your senses, you ought to tell me how you were overcome in the forest by that wicked one.” Hearing these words, especially as her brother was angry, Śūrpaṇakhā, with tears streaming from her eyes, spoke: “Two young men, endowed with beauty, delicate and of great strength, with eyes wide as lotuses, clad in bark and black antelope skin, live on fruits and roots, self-controlled, ascetics, devoted to chastity. They are the sons of Daśaratha, those brothers Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa. They resemble the king of the Gandharvas, bearing royal marks. Whether they are gods or demons, I am unable to discern. There, I saw a young woman, beautiful in form, adorned with every ornament, slender-waisted, standing between them. By both of them, together, concerning that woman, I have been brought to this condition, as if I were a wretched, helpless one.” She pleaded, “This is my first desire: let it be fulfilled by you—let me drink the blood of those two in battle.” As she spoke, Khara, enraged, commanded fourteen mighty rākṣasas, fierce as the end of time: “Two men, armed with weapons, clad in bark and black antelope skin, have entered the dreadful Daṇḍaka forest with a woman. Having slain those two and that wicked woman, you should return; and this, their sister, shall drink their blood for me. This is the wish of my sister, O rākṣasas; let it be quickly accomplished—go, overpower them with your own might. When you have slain those two brothers in battle, this one, delighted and joyful, will drink their blood in the fight.” Thus commanded, those fourteen rākṣasas went forth with Śūrpaṇakhā, like clouds driven by the wind. Let the twentieth sarga be heard in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Araṇya Kāṇḍa. The terrible Śūrpaṇakhā, having arrived at Rāghava's hermitage, reported the presence of the two brothers, along with Sītā, to the rākṣasas. They saw Rāma, of great strength, seated in the leaf-hut, attended by Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa. Seeing her arrive, and those rākṣasas, the illustrious Rāghava spoke to his brother Lakṣmaṇa, blazing with energy: “Wait for a moment, Saumitri, staying close to Sītā; I will destroy those who have come upon this path here.” Hearing this command from Rāma, who knows himself, Lakṣmaṇa honored Rāma’s words, replying, “So be it.” Rāghava, righteous in nature, took up his great bow adorned with gold, strung it, and addressed the demons: “We are the sons of Daśaratha, brothers Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, who have entered the difficult Daṇḍaka forest together with Sītā. Eating fruits and roots, disciplined, ascetic, observing celibacy, dwelling in Daṇḍaka forest—why do you harm us? Armed with bow and arrows, I have come, by the command of the sages, to slay you evil-hearted ones who commit outrages in this great conflict. Remain here content; you should not retreat. If you value your lives, depart from here, O night-dwellers.” Hearing his words, the fourteen rākṣasas, murderers of Brahmins, wielding spears, replied in great anger. Terrible, with bloodshot eyes, gazing at Rāma whose eyes were also bloodshot, they spoke harshly with a mocking sweetness, delighted at his display of valor: “By provoking the wrath of our master Khara, of great might, you alone will lose your life, slain by us in battle this very moment.