The tale unfolds as Śūrpaṇakhā began to describe Rāma as he truly is: a man of long, powerful arms and wide, expressive eyes, dressed simply in bark and the black skin of an antelope. She spoke of Rāma, the son of Daśaratha, whose handsome form rivaled that of Kāmadeva himself. He drew his mighty bow, like Indra’s, his arms adorned with golden armlets. She recounted how Rāma launched blazing arrows, fierce and swift as deadly serpents, never ceasing in his assault, his strength immense and unyielding. Though she did not see Rāma draw his bow in battle, she witnessed the devastation: his enemies’ armies fell, struck down by showers of arrows. Just as Indra destroys the finest crops with a hailstorm, so did Rāma strike down fourteen thousand fierce rākṣasas, including Khara and Dūṣaṇa, with sharp, straight-flying arrows. Alone and on foot, Rāma slew them all in little more than half a muhūrta. With this victory, Rāma granted safety to the sages, and the Daṇḍaka forest was made secure. Śūrpaṇakhā herself barely escaped, humiliated by that great-souled Rāma, who, knowing himself, refrained from killing a woman. She spoke also of Rāma’s brother, Lakṣmaṇa, a man of great energy, equal in valor and virtue, devoted and loyal. Lakṣmaṇa, mighty in strength, was impetuous, unconquerable, victorious, courageous, wise, and strong—the very right arm of Rāma, his life outside his body. Then she described Rāma’s wife, Sītā: broad-eyed, with a face like the full moon, ever devoted to her husband and delighting in his welfare. Sītā was renowned for her lovely hair, fine nose, and shapely form, shining in the forest like a goddess, or another Śrī herself. With the radiance of burnished gold, beautiful and slender-waisted, with red, prominent nails, Sītā, daughter of Videha, possessed noble form. Śūrpaṇakhā confessed that never before had she seen a woman so lovely—not goddess, nor Gandharvī, nor Yakṣī, nor Kinnarī. She declared that he whose wife is Sītā, whom she embraces with joy, would surpass even Indra in happiness among all beings. Sītā was virtuous, admirable in form, unmatched in beauty on earth. Śūrpaṇakhā suggested that Sītā would be a fitting wife for Rāvaṇa, and he the best husband for her. Resolving to bring Sītā, whose hips were broad, whose breasts were full and high, and whose face was lovely, for Rāvaṇa as his wife, Śūrpaṇakhā lamented her own disfigurement by Lakṣmaṇa, but now, seeing Vaidehī—Sītā—whose face was like the full moon, she urged Rāvaṇa to act. She warned him that he would be subject to the arrows of Kāma if his desire for Sītā arose, and urged him to quickly lift his right foot for victory. She implored, “If my words please you, O lord of the rākṣasas, let my counsel be carried out without hesitation, O Rāvaṇa. Let their weakness be understood, and let action be taken, O mighty one; Sītā, flawless in form, should become your wife, O lord of the rākṣasas. Having heard that the night-dwellers stationed at Janasthāna were slain by Rāma's arrows, and seeing Khara and Dūṣaṇa killed, you must now undertake your task.” Thus ended her speech, and the thirty-fifth chapter began. Hearing Śūrpaṇakhā’s words, which caused his hair to stand on end, Rāvaṇa consulted his ministers, understood the matter, and set out. He pursued the matter, obtained information as appropriate, and considered the strengths and weaknesses, faults and virtues. Having decided that this must be done, he made up his mind, and with firm resolve, went to the splendid chariot hall. There, concealed, the lord of the rākṣasas ordered his charioteer, “Let the chariot be yoked.” Swift and skillful, the charioteer quickly yoked his master’s favored, excellent chariot. Rāvaṇa mounted the chariot, which moved at will, adorned with gold and gems, yoked with horses bearing faces like goblins, decorated with golden ornaments. With a roar like thunder, the illustrious lord of the rākṣasas, brother of Kubera, set out for the lord of rivers and groves. Ten-headed Rāvaṇa, attended by white whisk and umbrella, shining like smooth beryl, adorned with heated gold ornaments, his twenty arms splendid, enemy of the gods and slayer of sages, resembled a mountain with ten peaks. Seated in his chariot that moved at will, Rāvaṇa shone like a cloud with lightning in the sky. He surveyed the regions of mountains, seas, and shores, and saw thousands of trees covered with various flowers and fruits. The land was adorned with lotus ponds of cool, auspicious waters, and spacious hermitages furnished with altars. Groves of plantains, shining coconut trees, sāla, tāla, tamāla, and other trees in full bloom beautified the landscape. He beheld great sages of utmost restraint in food, and thousands of nāgas, suparṇas, gandharvas, and kinnaras. The region was enhanced by siddhas and cāraṇas who had conquered desire, and by ājas, vaikhānasas, māṣas, vālakhilyas, and marīcipas. It was surrounded by thousands of apsarases, radiant in divine ornaments and garlands, of celestial beauty, skilled in the arts of play and ritual. The illustrious wives of the gods attended him, revered by them, and the place was frequented by hosts of gods and asuras who partook of ambrosia. Thus, Rāvaṇa set out, his mind filled with resolve, through landscapes adorned by divine beings and natural splendor, driven by the desire awakened by Śūrpaṇakhā’s words.