“O son of Daśaratha,” the sages declared, “by your valor, the destruction of these wicked rākṣasa enemies has been accomplished.” With the threat of the demons vanquished, the great sages could now return to their sacred duties in the forest of Daṇḍaka, free from fear. Lakṣmaṇa, ever heroic, remained by Sītā’s side, both of them steadfast in their devotion to Rāma. Having emerged from the mountain stronghold where the battle had raged, Rāma—victorious and now honored by the grateful sages—entered the hermitage with joy. As he stepped inside, Lakṣmaṇa received him with reverence, honoring his elder brother who had brought comfort and safety to the ascetics. Seeing Rāma, the destroyer of enemies, Sītā’s heart overflowed with happiness. She embraced her husband, delighted beyond measure at the sight of him and at the knowledge that the host of demons had been slain. In Rāma, the imperishable, Janaka’s daughter found her soul’s satisfaction. The great sages, too, honored Rāma for crushing the demon horde, and Sītā, her face radiant with joy, embraced him once more, filled with supreme gladness. Now, listen to the thirty-first sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Araṇyakāṇḍa. While peace settled over the hermitage, elsewhere, Akampana—one of the surviving rākṣasas—hurried from the devastated Janasthāna and swiftly entered Laṅkā. There, he sought an audience with Rāvaṇa, the ten-headed lord of the rākṣasas, and spoke with urgency: “O King, many of our kin stationed at Janasthāna have been slain. Khara himself has fallen in battle. I alone have escaped with my life.” Hearing these words, Rāvaṇa was seized with furious rage. His eyes blazed blood-red as he addressed Akampana, his very presence radiating a burning energy. “Who has dared destroy my dreadful Janasthāna with weapons? Who in all the worlds can commit such a deed and hope to escape death? Not even Indra, nor Kubera, nor Yama, nor Viṣṇu, having wronged me, can find happiness. I am Time itself to time; I could burn even fire, and by the law of death, I am fit to unite Death with his own end. I could overpower the wind, and in my wrath, I could burn the sun and fire with my energy.” Terrified by Rāvaṇa’s fury, Akampana joined his palms and, voice trembling, begged for his safety. The ten-headed lord, best of the rākṣasas, assured him protection. Thus reassured, Akampana spoke without hesitation: “There dwells in the forest a son of Daśaratha, young and lion-shouldered, named Rāma. Mighty-armed and broad-chested, dark-complexioned and famed throughout the worlds, Rāma is glorious, equal in strength and valor. It was by his hand that Khara and Dūṣaṇa were slain at Janasthāna.” Rāvaṇa, lord of the rākṣasas, sighed deeply, like a great serpent disturbed, and asked, “Is this Rāma aided by Indra and all the gods? Tell me truly, Akampana.” Akampana replied, describing Rāma’s strength and valor: “Rāma, radiant and mighty, is the foremost of all archers, endowed with the qualities of divine weapons, and in battle he is supremely righteous. His younger brother Lakṣmaṇa, powerful and red-eyed, with a voice like a drum and a face like the full moon, equals Rāma in strength. Together, like fire joined with wind, these princes destroyed Janasthāna. The gods and great souls need not deliberate—Rāma’s arrows alone, golden-feathered and swift, are enough. Those arrows became five-headed serpents and devoured the rākṣasas, while the survivors fled in terror, only to find Rāma standing before them wherever they went. Thus was Janasthāna laid waste by Rāma, O faultless one.” Hearing this, Rāvaṇa declared, “I will go to Janasthāna and kill Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa.” But Akampana cautioned him, saying, “Hear, O King, the true measure of Rāma’s strength and prowess. Renowned for his valor, Rāma is unconquerable when angered; with his arrows, he could check the force of a mighty river, bring down the sky with its stars and planets, or raise the earth if it were to sink. He could pierce the ocean’s shore and flood the worlds, or disperse the force of the ocean and the wind with his arrows. He could withdraw the worlds with his valor and create living beings anew. Rāma cannot be defeated by you in battle, O ten-headed one, nor by all the rākṣasas together, just as heaven is unattainable for the wicked. I do not believe all the gods and demons together could slay him. Yet, there is a way to defeat him—listen closely. “His wife, renowned throughout the world, is named Sītā. Slender-waisted and dark-complexioned, with well-proportioned limbs and adorned with jewels, she is a jewel among women. Neither goddess, nor gandharvī, nor apsara, nor serpent-woman is her equal—how could any human woman compare?” Rāvaṇa, lord of the rākṣasas, approved these words. After reflecting, the mighty-armed one replied, “Certainly, dear one, I will go at once, alone with my charioteer, and joyfully bring this Vaidehī to the great city.” Having spoken thus, Rāvaṇa departed in a chariot drawn by mules, shining like the sun and illuminating all directions as he set forth on his fateful journey.