Rāvaṇa, the ten-headed lord of the rākṣasas, was consumed by wrath and pride. He declared with fierce certainty that not even Indra, the king of gods, nor Kubera, nor Yama, nor even Viṣṇu himself, could find happiness if they dared to harm him. In his arrogance, he proclaimed, “I am Time to time itself; I could burn even fire, and by the law of death, I am able to bring Death to his own end. By force, I can surpass the speed of the wind; in my fury, I could scorch the sun and fire with my own energy.” As Rāvaṇa’s anger blazed, Akampana, trembling and fearful, approached him with joined palms, seeking assurance of safety. The mighty Rāvaṇa, best among the demons, granted him protection. Reassured, Akampana spoke without hesitation: “There dwells a son of Dasharatha, young and lion-shouldered, named Rāma. He is mighty-armed, broad-chested, dark-complexioned, and renowned for his glory and strength. It was by him that Khara and Dūṣaṇa were slain at Janasthāna.” Hearing these words, Rāvaṇa sighed like a great serpent and asked, “Is this Rāma, allied with Indra and all the gods, who has come to Janasthāna? Tell me truly, Akampana.” Akampana replied, describing Rāma’s strength and valor: “Rāma is radiant and mighty, the foremost among all archers, endowed with the qualities of divine weapons, and has attained supreme righteousness in battle. His younger brother, Lakṣmaṇa, is powerful, red-eyed, with a voice like a drum and a face like the full moon. He matches Rāma in strength. Together, like fire joined with wind, these glorious princes destroyed Janasthāna.” He continued, “There is no need for the gods or the great souls to deliberate here; the arrows of Rāma, golden-feathered and swift, are enough. Those arrows became like five-headed serpents, devouring the rākṣasas, while the survivors fled in terror, seeing Rāma standing before them wherever they turned. Thus, Janasthāna was laid waste by him, O faultless one.” Hearing Akampana’s account, Rāvaṇa declared, “I will go to Janasthāna and kill Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa.” But Akampana cautioned him, “Hear, O king, the true measure of Rāma’s power. When angered, Rāma is unconquerable; he could check the force of a mighty river with his arrows. He could bring down the sky with its stars, planets, and constellations, or raise up the sinking earth. He could pierce the ocean’s shore and flood the worlds, or disperse the force of the ocean or the wind with his arrows. He could withdraw the worlds with his valor and recreate living beings. Rāma cannot be defeated by you, O ten-headed one, nor by all the rākṣasas, just as heaven cannot be attained by the wicked. I do not believe he could be slain even by all the gods and demons together. But there is a way to defeat him—listen carefully.” Akampana revealed, “His wife, renowned in the world, is named Sītā. She is slender-waisted, dark-complexioned, with well-proportioned limbs, a jewel among women, adorned with jewels. Neither goddess, nor gandharvī, nor apsara, nor serpent-woman is equal to her; how could any human woman compare?” Rāvaṇa, lord of the rākṣasas, approved these words. After reflecting, the mighty-armed one spoke to Akampana, “Certainly, dear one, I will go at once, alone with my charioteer, and joyfully bring this Vaidehī to the great city.” Having resolved thus, Rāvaṇa departed in a chariot drawn by mules, shining like the sun and illuminating all directions. His great chariot thundered along the path of the stars, glowing like the moon among clouds. After a long journey, he reached the hermitage of Tāṭakā, where Mārīca received him with honors and offered him supernatural foods and delicacies. After seating him and offering water, Mārīca spoke with purpose, “O king, lord of the rākṣasas, is all well with your people? I wonder, for I do not know why you have come here so quickly.” Thus addressed, the mighty Rāvaṇa, skilled in speech, replied, “My protector was slain, dear one, by Rāma, who acts without fault. All of Janasthāna, once invincible, has been destroyed in battle. Therefore, assist me in the abduction of his wife.” Hearing these words, Mārīca responded, “By whom has Sītā been pointed out to you, by a friend who is truly an enemy? O tiger among rākṣasas, who in joy does not rejoice with you? Who says to you, ‘Bring Sītā here’? Tell me. Who among all the rākṣasas wishes to cut off his own horn? Whoever encourages you is surely your enemy, wishing you to draw the fang from the mouth of a venomous serpent. By whose act have you been set upon this evil path? Who struck you on the head while you were sleeping peacefully, O king?” Thus, Mārīca questioned the wisdom of Rāvaṇa’s plan, perceiving the peril that lay in seeking Sītā, the beloved wife of Rāma.