Lakshmana, Rama’s younger brother, stood by him—a powerful figure with red eyes and a voice that thundered like a drum. His face shone like the full moon, and he matched Rama in strength. United, the two brothers were like fire joined with wind; together, these glorious princes brought destruction to Janasthana. There was no need for the gods or great souls to deliberate—Rama’s arrows, golden-feathered and swift, were enough. As they flew, they transformed into five-headed serpents, devouring the rakshasas, while the survivors fled in terror, seeking escape wherever they could. Yet, no matter where they ran, Rama appeared before them, relentless, and thus Janasthana was utterly destroyed by his hand. Hearing of these events from Akampana, Ravana declared, “I will go to Janasthana to kill Rama and Lakshmana.” But Akampana urged him to listen, recounting the true extent of Rama’s strength. “Rama, famed for valor, 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, raise the sinking earth, pierce the ocean’s shore and flood the worlds, disperse the force of the ocean or the wind, and even withdraw the worlds with his valor. He is capable of recreating living beings. O ten-headed one, Rama cannot be defeated by you or by all the rakshasas, just as heaven cannot be attained by the wicked. Not even all the gods and demons together could kill him. But there is a way—listen carefully. His wife, renowned throughout the world, is named Sita. Slender-waisted and dark-complexioned, her limbs are perfectly proportioned; she is a jewel among women, adorned with jewels. No goddess, gandharvi, apsara, or serpent-woman equals her beauty; how could any human woman compare?” Ravana, lord of the rakshasas, approved Akampana’s words. After some reflection, he said, “Certainly, dear one, I will go at once, alone with my charioteer, and joyfully bring back this Vaidehi to our great city.” Having spoken, Ravana departed in a chariot drawn by mules, shining like the sun and illuminating all directions. His mighty chariot, moving along the path of the stars, thundered forth like the moon among clouds. After traveling a great distance, Ravana reached the hermitage of Tataka, where Marica honored him with supernatural foods and delicacies. Marica personally offered him a seat and water, and spoke purposeful words: “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 was slain, dear one, by Rama, who acts without fault. All of Janasthana, which was invincible, has been destroyed in battle. Therefore, assist me in the abduction of his wife.” Hearing these words, Marica spoke: “By whom has Sita been pointed out to you—a friend who is truly an enemy? Who among the rakshasas, delighted as you are, would not rejoice with you? Who says, ‘Bring Sita here’? Tell me, who among us wishes to cut off his own horn? Whoever encourages you 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 while you slept peacefully, O king? Rama, born of a pure and noble line and proud in his strength, is steadfast as an elephant with mighty tusks. Ravana, it is not fitting to confront him, that Raghava, the elephant among men, in battle. He is a lion among men, skilled in war, destroyer of clever rakshasas—standing in the midst of battle, you cannot awaken him while he sleeps, for his arrows and swords are his fangs. In the mud of his arm’s strength, in the flood of great battle, with waves of arrows and the theft of bows, O king of rakshasas, it is not right to leap into Rama’s dreadful mouth, like the underworld. Be gracious, lord of Lanka, king of rakshasas. Please, return to Lanka. Always delight with your own wives; let Rama with his wife enjoy the forests.” Thus addressed, the ten-headed Ravana turned back and entered his splendid house in Lanka. Meanwhile, Surpanakha saw that fourteen thousand fierce and mighty rakshasas had been slain by Rama alone. She witnessed the deaths of Dushana, Khara, and Trishiras in battle, and let out a great roar, like a thundercloud. Seeing Rama’s deed—so difficult for others to accomplish—she became deeply agitated and went to Lanka, ruled by Ravana. Arriving, she saw Ravana radiant in his brilliance, seated before his ministers at the forefront of his palace, like Indra among the Maruts. He sat upon a supreme golden throne, shining like the sun, atop a golden platform, resplendent like blazing fire.