In ages past, there was one whose fury shook the very heavens. In his wrath, he devastated the celestial gardens, and with his immense power, he even restrained the radiant Sun and Moon. His arms, vast as mountain peaks, held these mighty orbs at bay, for he had performed severe austerities for ten thousand years in the great forest. Long ago, in the era of Svayambhu, this steadfast being wrought terror: he severed the heads of gods, demons, gandharvas, piśācas, birds, and serpents alike. In battle, he feared none but a human. Praised with sacred mantras by the twice-born at their rituals, he was considered, in his own way, auspicious. Yet this mighty one, who took the soma at offerings and disrupted sacrifices, was wicked—slayer of Brahmins, cruel in his deeds. Harsh and pitiless, delighting in the suffering of beings, Rāvaṇa inspired terror in all creatures, striking fear into every world. One day, a rākṣasī beheld her fearsome and powerful brother. He was adorned in divine garments and ornaments, shining with celestial garlands. Seated upon his throne, he appeared as the very embodiment of Death arisen at its appointed time: the illustrious king of rākṣasas, the great and noble scion of the Paulastya line. Approaching him, the rākṣasī trembled with fear. Yet she came before Rāvaṇa, destroyer of enemies, who was surrounded by his counselors. His eyes blazed wide and bright as Śūrpaṇakhā, though disfigured, stood unflinching. She revealed her terror, her greed, and her delusion, and spoke these most dreadful words. Now, listen to the thirty-third sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Araṇyakāṇḍa. Distressed and angry, Śūrpaṇakhā addressed Rāvaṇa, the terror of worlds, in the midst of his ministers. “Lost in pleasures, unrestrained and self-willed, you do not perceive the dreadful danger that has arisen. A king who is attached to base enjoyments, ruled by desire and greed, is not respected by his people—just as the fire of a cremation ground is disregarded. “A king who does not perform his duties at the proper time perishes, along with his kingdom and the very duties he neglects. People shun a king careless with his spies, hard to approach, and lacking self-control, just as elephants avoid a muddy riverbank. Kings who fail to protect their domains and lack self-mastery do not shine with prosperity, like mountains hidden beneath the sea. “How will you, lacking proper intelligence and unstable, stand as king when opposed by gods, gandharvas, and demons who are wise and self-possessed? You are childish in nature, lacking in wisdom; you do not know what must be known—how then can you be a king? Kings whose spies, treasury, and policy are not under their control are like ordinary men, O best of conquerors. “Because kings must perceive all dangers, even those far away, through intelligence agents, they are called ‘far-sighted.’ But I see you as one who does not employ spies, surrounded by ordinary counselors. You do not realize that your own people and Janasthāna have been destroyed. Fourteen thousand rākṣasas of terrible deeds have been slain by Rāma alone, along with Khara and Dūṣaṇa. He has granted safety to the sages, made the Daṇḍaka forest secure, and violated Janasthāna—all without fatigue. “But you, O Rākṣasa, are greedy, careless, and dependent on others; you do not perceive the danger that has arisen in your own realm. No beings rush to a king who is harsh, gives little, is careless, arrogant, and deceitful, when he is in distress. Even his own people destroy a king who is excessively proud, unapproachable, self-conceited, and angry, when he faces trouble. “He who neglects his duties and does not fear in times of danger is quickly deprived of his kingdom, becomes miserable, and is regarded as worthless as grass. Tasks may be accomplished with dry sticks, with clods, or with dust—but not by kings who have fallen from their position. Just as a garment once worn or a garland once crushed is discarded, so too, one who has lost his kingdom, though capable, becomes useless. “But the king who is vigilant, all-knowing, self-controlled, grateful, and righteous remains established for a long time. Whether asleep or awake, he keeps watch with the eye of policy; a king whose anger and favor are clear is honored by the people. “But you, Rāvaṇa, of evil mind, are devoid of these virtues, for you did not know, through spies, of the great slaughter of the rākṣasas. You insult others, are attached to pleasures, do not know the true division of place and time, and your judgment is unsound in discerning virtues and faults. Your ruined kingdom will soon be destroyed.” Having thus considered these faults of his, the lord of the night-walkers, Rāvaṇa—endowed with wealth, pride, and power—pondered for a long time. Now, listen to the thirty-fourth sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Araṇyakāṇḍa. Seeing Śūrpaṇakhā speaking such harsh words, Rāvaṇa, enraged among his ministers, questioned her. “Who is this Rāma? What is his strength? What is his appearance? What is his prowess? And for what reason has he entered the Daṇḍaka forest, so difficult to traverse? What weapon does Rāma possess, by which these rākṣasas—Khara, Triśiras, and Dūṣaṇa—were all slain in battle? Tell me the truth, lovely-limbed one—by whom were you disfigured?” Thus questioned by the lord of the rākṣasas, the demoness, overcome with anger, prepared to answer.