Rāvaṇa, the brother of Kubera, journeyed through wondrous lands filled with swans, cranes, and waterfowl. The sarasa birds sang joyfully, and the riverbanks gleamed with smooth, lustrous beryl stones, their brilliance rivaling the ocean’s own radiance. All around him soared vast, pale-white aerial palaces, adorned with divine garlands and echoing with music and song. As he traveled, Rāvaṇa beheld gandharvas and apsarases moving freely, beings who had conquered the worlds through their austerities. He saw gentle sandalwood forests, thousands of trees whose roots exuded fragrant resin, delighting the senses. Rich groves of agaru, takkolas, jātis, and other fruit-bearing, aromatic trees stretched before him. Tamāla blossoms bloomed, marica thickets flourished, and clusters of pearls dried along the riverbank. Rāvaṇa’s eyes took in excellent mountains, heaps of coral, and peaks of gold and silver. He found charming, clear springs, lands abundant in wealth and grain, and places filled with women of rare beauty. Cities crowded with elephants, horses, and chariots appeared everywhere; the land was level, lush, and caressed by gentle breezes. In the marshes of the Sindhu king, Rāvaṇa discovered a place like heaven. There stood a banyan tree, dark as a cloud, surrounded by sages. Its branches stretched a hundred yojanas in every direction. From its vast limbs, an elephant and a great-bodied turtle were taken up. For food, mighty Garuḍa, the best of birds, alighted upon a branch. With his weight, Garuḍa broke the branch, thick with leaves, where the Vaikhānasas, Māṣas, Vālakhilyas, and Marīcipas had gathered. The assembled sages, grey and wise, appeared as goats. For their sake, Garuḍa took the broken branch, a hundred yojanas long, along with both the elephant and the tortoise. Standing on one foot, Garuḍa ate the flesh of his prey. Having destroyed the territory of the Niṣādas with the branch, Garuḍa, the foremost of birds, attained incomparable joy, having freed the great sages. Filled with joy, his strength doubled, and the wise one resolved in his mind to bring the nectar. Rāvaṇa saw the banyan tree named Subhadra, marked by Suparṇa and frequented by hosts of great sages. Crossing to the far shore of the ocean, lord of rivers, he found a hermitage 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 food. Rāvaṇa approached Mārīca properly, and the rākṣasa honored him with all kinds of human enjoyments. After welcoming him with food and water, Mārīca spoke purposefully: “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, the radiant Rāvaṇa, skilled in speech, began to speak. “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. Those were struck down by blazing arrows from the human warrior on foot; 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 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; I will seize his wife Sītā, equal to a daughter of the gods, from Janasthāna. I will bring her by force—be my ally in this; with you standing by my side, mighty one, I shall succeed. Even if all the gods with their brothers come, I have no concern; so be my ally, for you are indeed capable, O rākṣasa.” Thus Rāvaṇa spoke, seeking Mārīca’s support for his bold and fateful plan.