Surrounded by thousands of apsarases, radiant in their divine ornaments and garlands, beings of celestial beauty skilled in the arts of play and ritual, the place shimmered with splendor. There, the illustrious wives of the gods attended and revered one another, and the air was filled with the presence of gods and asuras who came to partake of ambrosia. The waters teemed with swans, cranes, and other waterfowl, their calls gladdening the heart, while sarasa birds danced among smooth, lustrous beryl stones that reflected the dense brilliance of the ocean. All around, vast aerial palaces, pale-white and adorned with divine garlands, floated aloft, resonating with music and song. It was in this wondrous realm that the brother of Kubera gazed upon the gandharvas and apsarases, moving freely as they pleased—those who had conquered the worlds through their austerities. He beheld gentle forests of sandalwood trees, thousands in number, their roots exuding fragrant resin, delighting the senses. There were groves of the finest agaru trees, takkolas, jātis, and other fruit-bearing, aromatic species. The flowers of the tamāla, thickets of marica, and even clusters of pearls drying on the riverbank caught his eye. He saw excellent mountains, heaps of coral, and peaks of gold and silver gleaming in the light. The land was adorned with charming, clear springs, wondrous to behold, rich in wealth and grain, and filled with women of rare beauty. As he observed the bustling cities crowded with elephants, horses, and chariots, he saw that everywhere the land lay level and lush, caressed by gentle breezes. In the marshes belonging to the king of the Sindhu, he found 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, and from it, both an elephant and a great-bodied turtle had been taken up. It was for the sake of food that the mighty Garuḍa alighted upon a branch; but with his immense weight, that king of birds broke the branch. The mighty Suparṇa snapped the leafy limb, upon which the Vaikhānasas, Māṣas, Vālakhilyas, and Marīcipas—great ascetic sages—were gathered. These venerable sages, grey and assembled, appeared as goats; so, to protect them, Garuḍa took up that branch, a hundred yojanas long, along with the elephant and the tortoise. With swift motion, Garuḍa, standing upon one foot, ate the flesh of both creatures, all the while preserving the sages upon the branch. In the process, he destroyed the territory of the Niṣādas with the mighty branch, and, having freed the great sages, the foremost of birds attained incomparable joy. Filled with that joy, Garuḍa’s strength doubled, and the wise one resolved in his heart to bring back the nectar. Then, the brother of the Lord of Wealth beheld the banyan tree named Subhadra, marked by Suparṇa and frequented by hosts of great sages. Having crossed to the far shore of the ocean, lord of rivers, he saw a hermitage nestled in a secluded, holy, and beautiful part of the forest. There he saw Mārīca, the rākṣasa, clad in black antelope skin and matted locks, disciplined in his food. Rāvaṇa, having approached properly, was honored by Mārīca with all kinds of human enjoyments. After welcoming him personally with food and water, Mārīca spoke to him with words of purpose: “Is all well with you, O king, lord of the rākṣasas in Laṅkā? For what purpose have you come here so quickly again?” Thus addressed by Mārīca, the radiant Rāvaṇa, skilled in speech, replied. (And thus begins the thirty-sixth sarga in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Araṇyakāṇḍa.) “Mārīca, listen, dear one, to my words 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 is also Triśiras, the mighty, flesh-eating rākṣasa, and many other valiant night-wanderers, skilled in their aim. By my command, the rākṣasas dwell there, harassing the sages who practice righteousness in the great forest. Fourteen thousand rākṣasas of terrible deeds, valiant and skilled in their aim, followers of Khara’s will, reside there. Now, those mighty ones dwelling in Janasthāna, gathered together and fully dependent, engaged in battle with Rāma. The rākṣasas led by Khara, wielding various weapons, faced Rāma, who had become enraged in the midst of battle. Without uttering a single harsh word, but with his bow set in motion by arrows, Rāma slew fourteen thousand fierce and powerful rākṣasas. They were struck down by his blazing arrows; Khara was also slain in the fight, and Dūṣaṇa was brought down. Having killed Triśiras as well, he made the Daṇḍaka forest free from fear; exiled by his angry father, he now lives with his wife, his life nearly spent. That Rāma, the destroyer of that army, is a disgrace among kṣatriyas—unrighteous, harsh, cruel, foolish, greedy, and lacking self-control. He has abandoned righteousness, his mind set on unrighteousness, delighting in the harm of beings; without enmity, he has taken up violence in the forest. By cutting off the ears and nose, my sister was disfigured; therefore, I will seize his wife Sītā, equal to a daughter of the gods, from Janasthāna.