Khara, burning with rage, spoke fiercely and then hurled his mighty, blazing mace at Rama. This formidable weapon, shining like a thunderbolt, tore through the air, scorching trees and bushes to ashes as it sped toward its target. Rama saw the mace coming at him, swift and deadly, like the very noose of death. Unflinching, he released his arrows, shattering the mace in midair into countless fragments. The broken, pierced mace tumbled to the earth, resembling a serpent struck down by powerful incantations and herbs. Now begins the thirtieth sarga of the glorious Valmiki Ramayana, Aranya Kanda. Rāghava, ever devoted to righteousness, having destroyed Khara’s mace with his arrows, smiled and addressed his adversary with heated words. He declared, “This, O vile Rākṣasa, is the full measure of your strength, now revealed; you are weaker than I, yet you roar in vain. Your mace, pierced by my arrows, lies fallen—your boastful confidence destroyed. What you claimed about wiping the tears of the slain Rākṣasas is false. I shall take your life, you base, low-minded, deceitful Rākṣasa, just as Garuḍa seizes the nectar. Today, the earth will drink your blood, foaming and bubbling, as my arrows tear your throat. Covered in dust, your arms fallen limp, you will sleep on the ground, embracing it as one would a beloved woman hard to attain. When you, O defiler of Rākṣasas, lie in deep sleep, these Daṇḍaka forests will become a refuge for those seeking shelter. When you are slain by my arrows at Janasthāna, the sages will roam the forest everywhere, free from fear. Today, the Rākṣasīs, their faces wet with tears, bereft of kin, miserable and fearful, will flee in terror. Those wives of worthy families, whose husband you are, will taste grief and be left without purpose. O cruel-natured, base-souled, constant thorn to the Brāhmaṇas, because of you, the sages, in fear, offer oblations into the fire with suspicion.” As Rāghava spoke thus, his anger blazing in the forest, Khara rebuked him with a voice harsh from wrath. “You are deeply arrogant and fearless even in danger; thus you speak what should and should not be spoken, unaware that you are in the grip of death. Men ensnared by the noose of Time lose their senses and cannot distinguish what should or should not be done.” Having spoken, Khara furrowed his brow and searched for a weapon. He saw a great śāla tree nearby, seized it, biting his lips in fury. Uprooting it with both arms, roaring loudly, the mighty Khara hurled the tree at Rama, shouting, “You are slain!” Rama, valiant and resolute, cut down the mass of arrows rushing toward him. Summoning intense wrath, he prepared to slay Khara in battle. Sweating, his eyes reddened by anger, Rama pierced Khara with a thousand arrows. From between those arrows, frothy blood poured from Khara, like streams flowing from a mountain’s spring. Stricken by Rama’s arrows, Khara was rendered helpless. Maddened by the scent of his own blood, he charged at Rama once more. As Khara, furious and soaked in blood, rushed in with weapons readied, Rama, quick and agile, stepped back two or three paces. Then Rama took up a blazing arrow, like a second Brahma’s staff, to slay Khara. This arrow, bestowed by the wise lord of the gods, Maghavan, was fitted to Rama’s bow, and the righteous hero released it at Khara. With a thunderous sound, the mighty arrow struck Khara in the chest as he drew his bow. Burned by the fire of the arrow, Khara fell to the ground, just as Andhaka was once consumed by Rudra in the white forest. He fell like Vṛtra struck by the thunderbolt, or Namuci felled by froth, or Bala struck down by Indra’s bolt. At that moment, the gods gathered with celestial sages, sounding their drums and showering flowers from the heavens. Fourteen thousand rākṣasas, masters of illusion led by Khara and Dūṣaṇa, were slain in that great battle. “Oh, what a mighty deed by Rama, who knows his true self! Oh, what strength, what firmness—truly, he appears like Viṣṇu,” the gods exclaimed. Having spoken thus, they departed as they had come; then all the royal sages and great seers assembled. Together with Agastya, they honored Rama with joy and spoke: “For this purpose, the mighty Indra, slayer of Vritra, came to the sacred hermitage of Śarabhaṅga; you were brought to this land by the great sages through their means. For the destruction of these wicked rākṣasa enemies, this task has been accomplished by you, O son of Daśaratha.