After Khara had tormented Rama—whose strength was unmatched—with a relentless storm of a thousand arrows, he roared loudly upon the battlefield, his fury echoing across the land. The arrows unleashed by Khara struck Rama’s splendid armor, radiant as the sun, and it fell to the earth, torn from his body. Though pierced all over by Khara’s arrows, Rama’s rage ignited within him; he shone in the fight like a fire blazing without smoke, his resolve only strengthened. Determined to end his foe, Rama, destroyer of enemies, prepared another great bow, stringing it with a deep, resonant sound that foretold Khara’s doom. He took up the mighty Vaishnava bow, a weapon bestowed upon him by the great sage, and advanced toward Khara, his anger mounting. With golden-feathered arrows, tightly bound, Rama cut down Khara’s banner in battle, severing it in many places. The beautiful golden banner tumbled to the earth, like the sun descending at the gods’ command. Enraged, Khara retaliated, piercing Rama’s limbs with four arrows, striking his heart with the precision of spears thrown at an elephant. Rama, now drenched in blood from the many arrows shot from Khara’s bow, was greatly angered. In that supreme battle, Rama—best among archers—took up his bow and released six well-aimed arrows: one struck Khara’s head, two wounded his arms, and three crescent-shaped arrows pierced his chest. Rama’s assault continued with deadly precision. With a single arrow, he 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. Then, with three arrows, Rama broke the chariot’s three poles; with two more, he shattered its axle; and with the twelfth arrow, he struck Khara’s bow, breaking it along with its string. With an arrow shining like a thunderbolt, Rāghava—laughing as if in sport—pierced Khara in battle with the thirteenth arrow, his prowess equal to Indra himself. Now, with his bow broken, his chariot destroyed, his horses and charioteer slain, Khara stood on the ground, leaping down with a mace in his hand, ready to continue the fight. Witnessing this, the gods and great sages gathered in their aerial chariots, delighting in Rama’s heroic deed. With joined palms, they honored the mighty Rama, their hearts filled with reverence. As the battle entered its next phase, the glorious Valmiki Ramayana, Aranyakanda, began its twenty-ninth sarga. Rama, radiant and resolute, saw Khara standing before him, weapon in hand, deprived of his chariot. He spoke first gently, then harshly, addressing his foe: "You, who have stood amidst this great army crowded with elephants, horses, and chariots, have performed a terrible deed, despised by all the worlds. You are a terror to beings, cruel, and a doer of evil deeds. Even a lord of the three worlds cannot stand if he acts thus. One who acts against the world, O night-wanderer, is swiftly destroyed by all, just as a wicked serpent is killed when it appears. He who, out of greed or desire, commits sins without understanding, sees his end joyfully, as a Brahmani sees the fate of a snake-catcher. Dwelling in the Dandaka forest, you have slain ascetics devoted to righteousness; what fruit will you gain, O Rakshasa, by killing these 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 fruit of his actions, dreadful when the time comes, just as a tree bears its seasonal flowers. Soon, the result of evil deeds is obtained in this world, O night-wanderer, just as food mixed 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 take your life, O night-wanderer. Today, the arrows released by me, 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. Today, let the great sages see you struck down by arrows—those whom you killed before, now dwelling in celestial abodes, and you 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." Thus addressed, Khara, his eyes blazing red with anger, replied to Rama, laughing though his heart was overcome by rage: "Having slain ordinary rakshasas in battle, O son of Dasharatha, how do you praise yourself for a deed unworthy of praise? Those who are truly valiant and powerful, the foremost among men, do not boast at all, even if they are exceedingly proud of their might. But ordinary, undisciplined men, the disgrace of the warrior class, boast meaninglessly in the world, just as you boast, Rama. What hero, declaring his lineage, will praise himself in battle, especially at the approach of death and without being asked? In any case, your boasting has shown your pettiness, like gold merely plated over, or kusa grass heated by fire. But you do not see me standing here, mace in hand, unshakable like a mountain covered with ores. With my mace in hand, I am fully capable of taking your life in battle, like Death himself with his noose, ready to destroy even the three worlds. Indeed, there is much I could say to you, but I will not; the sun is setting, and delay would hinder the battle." With these words, the two mighty warriors stood face to face, their enmity laid bare, the fate of Khara sealed by the inexorable justice of Rama.