Lakṣmaṇa, Rāma’s brother, was a man of immense energy and strength, equal to Rāma in valor and virtue. His devotion and loyalty knew no bounds, and he stood ever at Rāma’s side—impetuous, unconquerable, victorious, courageous, and wise. Truly, Lakṣmaṇa was Rāma’s right arm, as dear to him as life itself. Rāma’s wife, Sītā, was broad-eyed, her face radiant like the full moon. She remained ever devoted to her husband, delighting in his happiness and welfare. With lovely hair, a fine nose, and graceful form, she was renowned for her beauty and virtue, shining in the forest like a goddess—like another Śrī herself. Sītā’s radiance glowed like burnished gold; her slender waist, red and prominent nails, and noble bearing marked her as the daughter of Videha, a princess of high lineage. Never before had anyone seen such beauty on earth—not among goddesses, nor Gandharvīs, nor Yakṣīs, nor Kinnarīs. He whose wife was Sītā, and whom she embraced with joy, would know a happiness surpassing even that of Indra among all beings. She was virtuous, admirable in form, and unmatched in beauty on earth—a fitting wife for the greatest of men, and any man would be honored to call her his own. But now, a dark desire took root. One resolved to bring Sītā—broad-hipped, full-breasted, and lovely-faced—as a wife for another. Śūrpaṇakhā, disfigured by Lakṣmaṇa’s mighty arms, now beheld Vaidehī, Sītā with her moon-like face, and urged her lord: “If desire for her as your wife arises, you will be struck by the arrows of Kāma. Quickly, lift your right foot here for victory! 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. Sītā, flawless in form, should become your wife, O mighty one.” She reminded him of the defeat at Janasthāna, where Rāma’s straight-flying arrows had slain the rākṣasas stationed there, and Khara and Dūṣaṇa had been killed. Now, she urged, was the time for Rāvaṇa to act. Let the next chapter be heard. Having listened to Śūrpaṇakhā’s words, which made his hair stand on end, Rāvaṇa, lord of the rākṣasas, consulted with his ministers. He considered all that he had learned, weighing strengths and weaknesses, faults and virtues, and resolved upon a course of action. With firm resolve, he made his way to the splendid chariot hall, where he ordered his charioteer, “Let the chariot be yoked.” The swift and skillful charioteer quickly obeyed, preparing Rāvaṇa’s favored chariot, adorned with gold and gems, and yoked with horses whose faces resembled goblins, all decorated with golden ornaments. Mounting this wondrous chariot, which moved at his will, Rāvaṇa, the illustrious lord of the rākṣasas and brother of Kubera, set out with a roar like thunder, bound for the lord of rivers and groves. He shone with his ten heads and twenty arms, adorned with a white whisk and umbrella, gleaming like smooth beryl and heated gold. Majestic and formidable, enemy of the gods and slayer of sages, he appeared like a mountain with ten peaks, seated in his chariot that flashed like a cloud with lightning in the sky. As he journeyed, Rāvaṇa surveyed the regions of mountains, seas, and shores. He beheld thousands of trees laden with flowers and fruits, lotus ponds of cool, auspicious waters, and spacious hermitages with sacred altars. The land was beautified by groves of plantains, shining coconut trees, and blossoming sāla, tāla, and tamāla trees. He saw great sages, restrained in their habits, and thousands of nāgas, suparṇas, gandharvas, and kinnaras. The region was alive with siddhas and cāraṇas who had conquered desire, and with ascetics of various orders—ājas, vaikhānasas, māṣas, vālakhilyas, and marīcipas. Apsarases adorned with divine ornaments and garlands, radiant in their celestial beauty, skilled in the arts of play and ritual, surrounded him. The illustrious wives of the gods honored him, and the place was frequented by hosts of gods and asuras who partook of ambrosia. The waters teemed with swans, cranes, and waterfowl, gladdened by sarasa birds, and sparkled with smooth, lustrous beryl stones. The brilliance of the ocean was everywhere. All around, vast and pale-white aerial palaces, adorned with divine garlands, resounded with music and song. Rāvaṇa beheld gandharvas and apsarases moving freely, those who had conquered the worlds through austerity. He saw gentle forests of sandalwood trees by the thousands, their roots exuding fragrant resin, pleasing to the senses. There were groves of the finest agaru trees, takkolas, jātis, and other fragrant, fruit-bearing species. He saw the flowers of the tamāla, thickets of marica, and clusters of pearls drying on the riverbank. He gazed upon excellent mountains, heaps of coral, and peaks of gold and silver. There were charming and clear springs, wondrous to behold, and lands rich in wealth and grain, filled with women of rare beauty. Thus, Rāvaṇa, lord of the rākṣasas, surveyed the earth as he set forth, his mind fixed on his fateful purpose.