By the command of Rāvaṇa, the rākṣasas dwelled within the great Daṇḍaka forest, harassing the sages who practiced righteousness. There, fourteen thousand rākṣasas of dreadful deeds, valiant and skilled in their aim, loyal followers of Khara, took up residence. These mighty ones, gathered together and fully dependent on their leader, engaged in fierce battle with Rāma. Led by Khara, the rākṣasas, wielding an array of weapons, faced Rāma, who had become enraged amidst the conflict. Without uttering a single harsh word, but with his bow set in motion by arrows, Rāma slew all fourteen thousand of those fierce and powerful rākṣasas. They fell, struck down by blazing arrows from the human warrior who fought on foot; Khara himself was slain, and Dūṣaṇa was brought down as well. Triśiras too was killed, and thus Rāma made the Daṇḍaka forest free from fear. Though exiled by his angry father, Rāma lived there with his wife, his life nearly spent. Yet, Rāvaṇa, speaking with bitterness, declared that Rāma—the destroyer of that army—was a disgrace among kṣatriyas: unrighteous, harsh, cruel, foolish, greedy, and lacking self-control. He accused Rāma of abandoning righteousness, delighting in the harm of beings, and taking up violence in the forest without enmity. Rāvaṇa recalled how his own sister had been disfigured, her ears and nose cut off, and resolved to seize Rāma’s wife, Sītā, who was equal to a daughter of the gods, from Janasthāna. He vowed to bring Sītā by force and called upon his companion, urging him to be his ally in this endeavor. With such support, Rāvaṇa was confident he would succeed, even if all the gods and their brothers opposed him. He praised his ally’s strength, valor, pride, mastery of magic, and strategic skill, declaring that none could match him. For this purpose, Rāvaṇa approached Mārīca, the night-wanderer, instructing him to listen and act as his ally. He ordered Mārīca to take the form of a golden deer adorned with silver spots and wander before Sītā at Rāma’s hermitage. Rāvaṇa predicted that, upon seeing the deer, Sītā would surely ask Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa to capture it. Then, when those two were gone and the hermitage deserted, Rāvaṇa would seize Sītā at his ease, just as Rāhu seizes the moon’s radiance. Afterwards, when Rāma was tormented by the abduction of his wife, Rāvaṇa planned to strike him down at leisure, his purpose accomplished and his heart satisfied. Hearing Rāvaṇa’s account of Rāma, the great-souled Mārīca was filled with terror; his mouth went dry, and he licked his parched lips. His eyes, unblinking like one dead, gazed at Rāvaṇa in torment. Knowing well the might of Rāma, his mind disturbed and fearful amid the great forest, Mārīca joined his palms and addressed Rāvaṇa, speaking words of truth that would benefit them both. Let the thirty-seventh chapter be heard, in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Araṇyakaṇḍa. Hearing the king of the rākṣasas, the eloquent and radiant Mārīca replied. He said, “O King, men who always speak pleasant words are easy to find; but one who speaks and listens to what is unpleasant yet wholesome is rare. You do not truly understand Rāma, exalted in strength and virtue, unpredictable in conduct, restless, and equal to Indra and Varuṇa. May all the rākṣasas, dear one, be safe; may Rāma, if angered, not destroy the worlds and the rākṣasas. May the daughter of Janaka not have arisen for the end of your life; may there not be great calamity because of Sītā. May the city of Lanka, along with all the rākṣasas, not perish with you, their lord, indulging in unchecked desires. A king like you, ruled by desire, of bad character, advised by wicked counselors, destroys himself, his kin, and his realm through misguided judgment. Rāma was not abandoned by his father, nor did he ever transgress boundaries; he is not greedy, nor of bad character, nor a stain upon the kṣatriya race. He, the joy of Kausalyā, is not lacking in virtues of dharma; he is not harsh to beings, but is devoted to the welfare of all creatures. Seeing his truthful father deceived by Kaikeyī, that righteous one said, ‘I will do it,’ and then went into exile in the forest. For the sake of Kaikeyī’s desire and his father Daśaratha, he abandoned the kingdom and pleasures, and entered the Daṇḍaka forest. Rāma is not harsh, dear one, nor ignorant, nor uncontrolled; you should not speak what is untrue or unheard about him. Rāma is dharma embodied, noble, and steadfast in truth and valor; he is the king of all the world, like Indra among the gods. How do you wish to seize Vaidehī, protected by her own radiance, as one would try to snatch the brilliance of the sun? You should not attempt to enter the blazing Rāma-fire in battle, whose arrows are like flames, whose fuel is uncut, and who cannot be approached. He, whose bow is drawn wide, whose mouth is radiant, whose arrows are like flames, who is unyielding, armed with bow and arrows, fierce, and destroyer of enemy armies. Having abandoned kingdom, comfort, and even the cherished life of the self, you should not, dear one, bring about your own end here for the sake of Rāma. For the brilliance of him whose wife is the daughter of Janaka is immeasurable; you are not capable of taking her, who is protected by Rāma’s bow, in the forest.” Thus, Mārīca spoke words of warning and truth to Rāvaṇa, urging him to reconsider his perilous scheme against Rāma and Sītā.