Hearing Ravana’s eager inquiry, Akampana began to speak of Rama’s extraordinary strength and valor. He described Rama as radiant and mighty, the foremost among all archers, endowed with the might of divine weapons and the highest righteousness in battle. At Rama’s side stood his younger brother Lakshmana—powerful, red-eyed, with a voice like a rolling drum and a face luminous as the full moon—equal to Rama in strength. Together, these two princes, united like fire joined with wind, had destroyed Janasthana. Akampana explained that neither gods nor great souls needed to deliberate on the cause, for Rama’s arrows alone, golden-feathered and swift, brought about this devastation. These arrows transformed into five-headed serpents that devoured the rakshasas, sending the rest fleeing in terror. Yet, wherever the fleeing rakshasas went, Rama seemed to stand before them, and thus Janasthana was utterly destroyed by his hand. Ravana, hearing these words, declared, “I will go to Janasthana myself and slay Rama and Lakshmana.” But Akampana, intent on revealing the truth, urged him to listen further: “O King, hear the true measure of Rama’s strength. When angered, Rama is unconquerable—he could halt 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. With his arrows, he could pierce the shores of the ocean and flood the worlds, or disperse the very force of the ocean or the wind. He could withdraw the worlds with his valor, and, if he wished, create living beings anew. O ten-headed one, Rama cannot be defeated by you, nor by the world of rakshasas—just as heaven cannot be attained by the wicked. Even if all the gods and demons joined together, I do not believe Rama could be slain. Yet, there is a way—listen closely.” Akampana spoke of Sita, Rama’s wife, famed throughout the world—slender-waisted, dark-complexioned, with exquisitely proportioned limbs, a jewel among women, adorned with jewels. He said, “Neither goddess, nor gandharvi, nor apsara, nor serpent-woman can equal her beauty; how then could any human woman compare?” Ravana, lord of the rakshasas, approved of this counsel. After some reflection, he spoke to Akampana, “Certainly, dear one, I will go at once, alone with my charioteer, and joyfully bring this Vaidehī to my great city.” Having resolved thus, Ravana 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, gleaming like the moon among the clouds. After journeying a long distance, Ravana reached the hermitage of Tāṭakā, where he was honored by Mārīca with supernatural foods and delicacies. Mārīca welcomed Ravana with a seat, water, and words full of intent, asking, “O king, lord of the rakshasas, is all well with your people? I wonder, for I do not know why you have come here so quickly.” Ravana, skilled in speech, replied, “My protector has been slain by Rama, who acts without fault; all of Janasthana, once invincible, has been destroyed in battle. Therefore, I seek your help in abducting his wife.” Hearing this, Mārīca questioned, “By whom has Sita been pointed out to you? Who, claiming to be your friend, is truly your enemy? Who among the rakshasas would urge you to such a course, wishing to harm you? Who would advise you to pluck the fang from the mouth of a venomous serpent? Who has set you upon this evil path, striking you while you were at peace? Rama, born of a noble line, steadfast and powerful as a bull elephant, is not one to be confronted in battle. He is a lion among men, destroyer of clever rakshasas, and in the midst of war, his fury is like a sleeping beast armed with arrows and swords for fangs. It is not wise, O king, to leap into Rama’s dreadful mouth, as one might leap into the underworld.” Mārīca pleaded, “Be gracious, lord of Lanka; return home and delight in your own wives. Let Rama and his wife enjoy the forests in peace.” Thus addressed, Ravana, the ten-headed king, turned back and entered his splendid house in Lanka. Now, listen to the next chapter. Surpanakha, seeing that fourteen thousand fierce and mighty rakshasas had been slain by Rama alone, and witnessing the fall of Dushana, Khara, and Trishiras in battle, let out a great roar like a thundercloud. Deeply agitated by Rama’s deeds—so difficult for anyone else to accomplish—she made her way to Lanka, ruled by her brother Ravana.