With a thunderous roar that echoed like the clouds in monsoon, the illustrious lord of the rākṣasas, Rāvaṇa—renowned as the brother of Kubera—set out on his journey toward the lord of rivers and groves. Ten-headed Rāvaṇa, radiant beneath a white royal umbrella and fanned by a white whisk, shone with the brilliance of smooth beryl, his form adorned with ornaments of heated gold. His twenty mighty arms and ten formidable heads gave him the appearance of a mountain crowned by ten peaks; truly, he was the enemy of the gods and the slayer of sages, a figure of awe and splendor. Seated in his chariot that moved at his will, the lord of the rākṣasas gleamed in the heavens like a rain-laden cloud lit by flashes of lightning. As he traveled, he surveyed the vast regions—the mountains, the seas, and the distant shores. His keen eyes beheld thousands of trees, their branches heavy with a profusion of flowers and fruits of every kind. The land was adorned with lotus ponds, their waters cool and auspicious, and with spacious hermitages, each furnished with altars for sacred rites. Groves of plantains flourished, and coconut trees stood tall, shining amidst sāl, tāla, and tamāla trees, all in full bloom. The beauty of the place was heightened by the presence of great sages, masters of self-restraint, and by thousands of nāgas, suparṇas, gandharvas, and kinnaras. Here, siddhas and cāraṇas who had conquered desire mingled with ājas, vaikhānasas, māṣas, vālakhilyas, and marīcipas, all radiant with the fruits of their austerities. The area was alive with thousands of apsarases, adorned in divine ornaments and garlands, their celestial beauty unmatched, skilled in the arts of play and sacred ritual. The illustrious wives of the gods attended this place, honoring it with their presence, while hosts of gods and asuras—those who partook of ambrosia—frequented it as well. The air was filled with the calls of swans, cranes, and waterfowl, and the joyous cries of sarasa birds. Smooth, lustrous beryl stones gleamed, their brightness rivaling the ocean’s own brilliance. All around, vast and pale-white aerial palaces rose, adorned with divine garlands, and resounded with music and melodious song. Rāvaṇa beheld gandharvas and apsarases moving freely as they pleased, beings who had conquered the worlds through their austerities. He saw gentle sandalwood forests, thousands strong, their roots exuding fragrant resin, delighting the senses. There were also forests and groves of the finest agaru trees, takkolas, jātis, and many other fruit-bearing, aromatic species. The flowers of the tamāla, thickets of marica, and clusters of pearls drying along the riverbanks all added to the land’s wonder. He gazed upon excellent mountains, heaps of coral, and peaks of gold and silver. There were charming, clear springs, wondrous to behold, and lands rich in wealth and grain, filled with women of rare beauty. He observed cities bustling with elephants, horses, and chariots, and everywhere the land was level, lush, and caressed by gentle breezes. In the marshes belonging to the Sindhu king, Rāvaṇa saw a place like heaven itself. There, he beheld a mighty banyan tree, dark as a raincloud, surrounded by sages. Its branches stretched a hundred yojanas in every direction. From its heights, both an elephant and a great-bodied turtle were being carried away. For the sake of food, the mighty Garuḍa, king of birds, alighted upon a branch. His tremendous weight caused that branch, thick with leaves, to snap suddenly. There, gathered upon it, were the Vaikhānasas, Māṣas, Vālakhilyas, and Marīcipas—great sages, grey-haired and assembled, appearing almost like goats. Out of compassion for them, Garuḍa took up the broken branch, a hundred yojanas long, along with both the elephant and the tortoise. Swiftly, standing on one foot, the righteous Garuḍa consumed the flesh of his prey, having first ensured the safety of the sages. With the branch, he destroyed the territory of the Niṣādas, and, having freed the great sages, the foremost of birds experienced incomparable joy. Filled with this happiness, his strength redoubled, and the wise Garuḍa resolved in his mind to bring back the nectar of immortality. Continuing his journey, Rāvaṇa, the brother of the Lord of Wealth, saw the banyan tree named Subhadra, marked by Suparṇa’s visit and frequented by hosts of great sages. Having crossed to the far shore of the ocean—the lord of rivers—he came upon a hermitage nestled in a secluded, holy, and beautiful part of the forest. There, Rāvaṇa saw Mārīca, the rākṣasa, clad in black antelope skin and wearing matted locks, disciplined in his intake of food. Approaching him with proper respect, Rāvaṇa was honored by Mārīca with all kinds of human enjoyments. Mārīca personally welcomed his guest, offering food and water, and then spoke to him with words of purpose: “Is all well with you, O king, lord of the rākṣasas in Laṅkā? For what reason have you come here so quickly again?” Thus addressed, the radiant Rāvaṇa, skilled in speech, replied to Mārīca, beginning to reveal the cause of his visit. “O Mārīca,” he said, “listen to my words, dear one, as I speak. I am afflicted, and for one in distress, you are the highest refuge. You know Janasthāna, where my brother Khara, the mighty Dūṣaṇa, and my sister Śūrpaṇakhā dwell. There, too, is Triśiras, the powerful, flesh-eating rākṣasa, and many other valiant night-wanderers, all skilled in their aim. By my command, the rākṣasas dwell there, harassing the sages who practice righteousness in the great forest.