Rāvaṇa, the ten-headed lord of the rākṣasas, was ablaze with fury. He proclaimed with unshakable pride, “I am Time itself to time; I could burn even fire, and by the law of death, I am able to unite Death with his own end. By force, I can outpace the wind itself, and in my wrath, I could scorch both the sun and fire with my energy.” His words thundered, his power seeming limitless. Yet, as Rāvaṇa’s anger blazed, Akampana, trembling with fear, approached him with palms joined, seeking assurance of safety. The mighty demon king, best among his kind, granted Akampana sanctuary. Reassured, Akampana spoke without hesitation, “In Janasthāna dwells a son of Dasharatha, young, broad-chested, lion-shouldered, and mighty-armed. His name is Rāma. Dark-complexioned and radiant, famed throughout the world, he is equal in strength and valor to the gods. By his hand, Khara and Dūṣaṇa have been slain.” Hearing these words, Rāvaṇa, lord of the demons, sighed deeply, like a great serpent disturbed. He asked, “Is this Rāma, joined with Indra and all the gods, who has come to Janasthāna? Tell me truly, Akampana.” In response, Akampana began to recount the strength and valor of this great soul. “Rāma is radiant and mighty, foremost among archers, endowed with the divine qualities of celestial weapons, and supreme in righteousness on the battlefield. His younger brother Lakṣmaṇa, powerful and red-eyed, with a voice like a drum and a face like the full moon, matches him in strength. Together, like fire joined with wind, these glorious princes destroyed Janasthāna.” Akampana continued, “Neither gods nor great souls need deliberate; the golden-feathered, winged arrows released by Rāma are enough. Those arrows became five-headed serpents, devouring the rākṣasas, while the survivors fled in terror. Wherever they ran, they found Rāma before them; thus, Janasthāna was utterly destroyed by him, O faultless one.” Rāvaṇa, hearing Akampana’s account, declared, “I will go to Janasthāna and kill Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa.” But Akampana replied, “Hear, O king, the truth of Rāma’s strength and prowess. When angered, he is unconquerable. With his arrows, he could check the force of a full river. 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 valor, he could withdraw the worlds and create living beings anew. Rāma cannot be defeated by you in battle, nor by the rākṣasas, just as heaven is unattainable for the wicked. I do not consider him killable even by all the gods and demons together. But there is a way—listen closely.” Akampana revealed, “His wife is renowned throughout the world—Sītā, slender-waisted, dark-complexioned, adorned with jewels, a jewel among women. Neither goddess, nor gandharvī, nor apsarā, nor serpent-woman is her equal; how could a human woman compare?” Rāvaṇa, lord of the rākṣasas, approved these words. After reflecting, he spoke to Akampana, “Certainly, dear one, I will go at once, alone with my charioteer, and joyfully bring this Vaidehī to the great city.” With his resolve set, Rāvaṇa departed in a chariot drawn by mules, shining like the sun and illuminating all directions. That great chariot thundered forth along the path of the stars, radiant as the moon among clouds. After a long journey, Rāvaṇa reached the hermitage of Tāṭakā, where he was honored by Mārīca with supernatural foods and delicacies. Mārīca personally welcomed him with a seat, water, and words full of purpose. “O king, lord of the rākṣasas, is all well with your people? I wonder, for I do not know why you have come so quickly.” Rāvaṇa, skilled in speech, replied, “My protector was slain, dear one, by Rāma, who acts without fault. Janasthāna, once invincible, has been destroyed in battle. Therefore, assist me in the abduction of his wife.” Hearing this, Mārīca spoke, “By whom has Sītā been pointed out to you? Who, claiming to be a friend, is truly an enemy? Who among the rākṣasas wishes to cut off his own horn? Whoever encourages you in this is surely an 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 as you slept peacefully, O king?” Mārīca warned, “He, born of a pure and noble line, steadfast as an elephant with mighty tusks—Rāvaṇa, it is not fitting to confront him, that Rāghava, the elephant among men, in battle.