Śūrpaṇakhā, with her mind full of desire and schemes, began to speak of Rāma and Sītā to Rāvaṇa, painting vivid pictures with her words. She described Rāma as impetuous and unconquerable, a courageous victor whose wisdom and strength made him a formidable presence. Rāma’s right arm, she said, was his very life outside his body, always ready in defense and valor. Turning to Sītā, Śūrpaṇakhā spoke of her beauty and devotion. Sītā’s eyes were broad, her face radiant like the full moon, and she was ever devoted to her husband, finding joy in his welfare. With lovely hair, a fine nose, and a shapely form, Sītā was renowned throughout the land. In the forest, she shone like a goddess—like another Śrī herself. Her skin gleamed with the radiance of burnished gold, her nails were red and prominent, her waist slender, and her noble form unmistakable. Sītā, daughter of Videha, was beautiful beyond compare. Śūrpaṇakhā confessed that never before had she seen a woman so lovely—not among goddesses, Gandharvīs, Yakṣīs, or Kinnarīs. She declared that any man embraced by Sītā would surpass even Indra in happiness among all beings. Sītā’s virtue and beauty were unmatched on earth; she would be a fitting wife for Rāvaṇa, and he the best husband for her. Her resolve was clear: she would bring Sītā, whose hips were broad, whose breasts were full and high, whose face was lovely, for Rāvaṇa as his wife. She lamented her own disfigurement at the hands of the mighty Lakṣmaṇa, but upon seeing Vaidehī, whose face was like the full moon, she urged Rāvaṇa to act. If desire for Sītā arose in him, he would be subject to the arrows of Kāma; she advised him to quickly lift his right foot for victory. Śūrpaṇakhā pressed Rāvaṇa further: if her words pleased him, let her counsel be carried out without hesitation. She urged him to understand Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa’s weakness and take action, so that flawless Sītā would become his wife. She reminded him that the night-dwellers at Janasthāna had been slain by Rāma’s arrows, and Khara and Dūṣaṇa had fallen. Now, she said, it was time for Rāvaṇa to undertake his task. With Śūrpaṇakhā’s words still echoing in his mind, Rāvaṇa felt a surge of excitement—the hairs on his body stood on end. He summoned his ministers, consulted them, and carefully considered the situation, weighing strengths and weaknesses, faults and virtues. Resolute, he decided what must be done and made his way to the splendid chariot hall. There, concealed from others, the lord of the rākṣasas ordered his charioteer to prepare his favored, excellent chariot. The swift and skillful charioteer quickly yoked the chariot, adorned with gold and gems, drawn by horses with faces like goblins and decorated with golden ornaments. Rāvaṇa, brother of Kubera, mounted the chariot, which moved at his will. With a roar like thunder, he set out for the lord of rivers and groves. Ten-headed and twenty-armed, Rāvaṇa shone with white whisk and umbrella, gleaming like smooth beryl and adorned with heated gold ornaments. Splendid in appearance, enemy of the gods and slayer of sages, he was like a mountain with ten peaks as he sat in his chariot, shining like a cloud with lightning in the sky. As he journeyed, Rāvaṇa surveyed the regions of mountains, seas, and shores, beholding thousands of trees covered with flowers and fruits. All around were lotus ponds of cool, auspicious waters, spacious hermitages furnished with altars, groves of plantains, coconut trees, sāla, tāla, tamāla, and other trees in full bloom. He saw great sages practicing utmost restraint in food, and thousands of nāgas, suparṇas, gandharvas, and kinnaras. The land was enhanced by siddhas and cāraṇas who had conquered desire, and by ājas, vaikhānasas, māṣas, vālakhilyas, and marīcipas. Thousands of apsarases, radiant in divine ornaments and garlands, of celestial beauty and skilled in play and ritual, surrounded the area. Illustrious wives of the gods attended the scene, revered by all, and the place was frequented by hosts of gods and asuras who partook of ambrosia. The waters were filled with swans, cranes, and waterfowl, gladdened by sarasa birds, with smooth, lustrous beryl stones and dense with the brilliance of the ocean. All around, vast 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, thousands in number, with roots exuding fragrant resin, pleasing to the sense of smell. There were forests and groves of the finest agaru trees, takkolas, jātis, and other fruit-bearing, fragrant species. Flowers of tamāla, thickets of marica, and clusters of pearls drying on the riverbank caught his eye. He saw excellent mountains, heaps of coral, and peaks of gold and silver. Charming and clear springs, wondrous to behold, lands rich in wealth and grain, and filled with women of rare beauty lay before him. He observed cities crowded with elephants, horses, and chariots, and saw everywhere land that was level, lush, and caressed by gentle breezes. Thus, Rāvaṇa journeyed, his heart set on the task inspired by Śūrpaṇakhā’s words, his mind full of resolve and desire as he beheld the wonders of earth and sky.