As the fierce battle raged, the sun itself seemed to vanish, hidden behind a dense curtain of arrows loosed by the two mighty warriors, each intent on the other’s destruction. Khara, with his chariot thundering across the field, assailed Rama relentlessly with a hail of nalikas, narachas, and sharp-tipped vikarni arrows, striking at him as one might prod a great elephant with goads. All beings who witnessed this terrible combat saw Khara, bow in hand, standing atop his chariot, surrounded on every side, resembling Death itself wielding a deadly noose. Khara, surveying the battlefield, observed Rama—renowned for destroying entire armies—standing firm and mighty, yet showing signs of weariness. But Rama, seeing Khara approach with the courage and stride of a lion, felt no fear, just as a lion does not fear a mere jackal. Khara’s chariot, shining like the sun, bore down upon Rama, reckless as a moth drawn to the flames. Demonstrating his skill, Khara severed Rama’s bow and arrow at the grip in the very midst of battle. Undeterred, Rama seized seven more arrows, blazing like the thunderbolts of Indra, and, his anger rising, struck Khara in his vital points. Khara, in turn, tormented Rama with a thousand arrows, roaring in triumph as he pressed the attack. The arrows from Khara’s bow struck Rama’s radiant armor, causing it to fall to the earth, gleaming like the sun itself. Though pierced all over and his body streaming with blood, Rama blazed in his fury, shining in battle like a smokeless fire. Enraged, the destroyer of enemies readied another great bow, its string resonating deeply as he prepared for the final confrontation. Rama took up the mighty Vaishnava bow, a gift from a great sage, and advanced toward Khara with determination. With arrows tipped in gold and bound tightly, Rama, now seething with anger, cut down Khara’s banner in the heat of battle. The beautiful golden standard, severed in many places, tumbled to the earth like the sun itself falling at the gods’ command. Khara, his rage mounting, struck Rama’s limbs with four arrows, one piercing his heart as an elephant is pierced with spears. Rama, wounded and drenched in blood, became even more furious. Then, displaying supreme archery, Rama took up his bow and loosed six well-aimed arrows: one struck Khara’s head, two pierced his arms, and three crescent-shaped shafts wounded his chest. With another arrow, Rama severed the yoke of Khara’s chariot; with four, he struck the dappled horses; and with a sixth, he cut off the head of Khara’s charioteer. Three more arrows shattered the chariot’s three poles, two broke its axle, and with the twelfth, Rama struck Khara’s bow and string with unerring aim. As the shining arrow split Khara’s bow, Rama, laughing as if at sport, pierced Khara with the thirteenth arrow—one as powerful as Indra’s own weapon. Now bereft of his chariot, his bow broken, his horses and charioteer slain, Khara leapt to the ground, grasping a massive mace in his hand. At that moment, the gods and great sages, assembled in their celestial chariots, were filled with delight. With palms joined in reverence, they honored the heroic Rama for his mighty deeds. Now begins the twenty-ninth sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Araṇyakaṇḍa. Seeing Khara standing before him, weapon in hand but deprived of his chariot, Rama—brilliant and composed—addressed him first in gentle tones, then in harsh ones. “You, who have stood amid this great army of elephants, horses, and chariots, have committed a deed despised by all the worlds. You are a terror to all beings, cruel and wicked in your actions; not even a lord of the three worlds could endure such evil. “One who acts against the world, O night-wanderer, is quickly destroyed by all, just as a venomous serpent is slain when it appears. The one who, out of greed or desire, commits sins without understanding, meets his end gladly—much as a Brahmani rejoices at the fate of a snake-catcher. Here, in the Dandaka forest, you have slain ascetics devoted to righteousness; what fruit, O Rākṣasa, do you hope to gain by killing such noble ones? “Those who commit cruel and evil deeds, despised by the world, do not long retain their power, like trees whose roots have withered. Surely, the doer of evil must receive the dreadful fruit of his actions when the time comes, just as a tree bears its flowers in season. Soon, the results of evil deeds are reaped in this world, O night-wanderer, just as food laced with poison brings its effect after being eaten. “For those who commit terrible sins, wishing harm to the world, I have been sent by the king to end your life, O night-wanderer. Today, my arrows, adorned with gold, will pierce and tear you apart like serpents bursting from an anthill. Those righteous ones whom you have devoured in the Dandaka forest—today, slain in battle, you shall follow them, along with your army. “Let the great sages see you struck down by my arrows—those whom you killed before, now dwelling in celestial realms, while you are cast into hell. Strike as you wish, make every effort, O disgrace of your lineage; today I will bring down your head as easily as a palm fruit falls from its tree.” Thus addressed by Rama, Khara, his eyes burning red with fury, replied to Rama, laughing despite his overwhelming rage.