Rāvaṇa, filled with desire and determination, addressed Mārīca with urgency. “I will seize Sītā by force—stand with me in this, and with your support, mighty one, I am certain to succeed. Even if all the gods and their kin were to oppose me, I have no fear; so be my ally, O rākṣasa, for you are truly capable. In strength, in battle, and in pride, none can rival you. You are a hero, master of great magic and strategy. It is for this very reason that I have come to you, O night-wanderer. Listen well: become my ally and do as I say. “Take on the form of a golden deer, adorned with silver spots, and wander before Sītā near Rāma’s hermitage. When Sītā sees you in this enchanting form, she will surely ask Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa to capture you for her. Then, when those two are drawn away and the place is deserted, I will take Sītā with ease, just as Rāhu seizes the moon’s radiance. Afterwards, when Rāma is tormented by the loss of his wife, I will destroy him at my leisure, my purpose fulfilled and my heart content.” As Rāvaṇa revealed his plan, Mārīca was overcome with terror. His mouth went dry, and he licked his parched lips; his eyes, wide and unblinking like those of the dead, fixed upon Rāvaṇa in torment. Knowing well the might of Rāma, Mārīca’s mind was deeply disturbed and fearful in the great forest. With joined palms, seeking to speak words that would benefit both himself and Rāvaṇa, he addressed the king of the rākṣasas. “Hear me, O King,” Mārīca began, his voice earnest, “men who always speak only pleasant words are easy to find. But one who speaks and listens to what is unpleasant yet wholesome is rare indeed. You do not truly understand Rāma—exalted in strength and virtue, unpredictable in his ways, restless, and equal to Indra and Varuṇa. May all the rākṣasas be safe, dear one; may Rāma, if angered, not destroy the worlds and our race. May the daughter of Janaka not be the cause of your end, nor bring about great calamity because of Sītā. May Lanka and all the rākṣasas not perish because you, their lord, are led astray by unchecked desire. “A king, ruled by desire and bad counsel, 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 blemish upon the Kṣatriya race. The joy of Kausalyā, he is steadfast in dharma, never harsh, and devoted to the welfare of all beings. When his truthful father was deceived by Kaikeyī, Rāma, righteous as he is, said, ‘I will do it,’ and willingly went into exile in the forest. For the sake of Kaikeyī’s wish and his father Daśaratha, he gave up the kingdom and all pleasures, and entered the Daṇḍaka forest. “Rāma is not harsh, nor ignorant, nor uncontrolled. Do not speak falsely or heed rumors about him. He embodies dharma, noble and steadfast in truth and valor; he is the king of the world, like Indra among the gods. How do you intend to seize Vaidehī, protected by her own radiance, as one would attempt to snatch the brilliance of the sun itself? You should not seek to enter the blazing Rāma-fire in battle—his arrows are like flames, his might inexhaustible, and he cannot be approached. “His bow is drawn wide, his face radiant, his arrows like fire, unyielding and fierce, destroyer of armies. Having abandoned kingdom, comfort, and even his own cherished life, do not, dear one, bring about your own end for the sake of Rāma. The brilliance of the husband of Janaka’s daughter is immeasurable; you cannot take her, guarded as she is by Rāma’s bow in the forest. To that lion among men, broad-chested and radiant, his wife—ever devoted—is dearer than life itself. Sītā, beloved of the mighty son of Mithilā and slender-waisted, cannot be violated; she is like the blazing flame of a sacrificial fire. “Why undertake this futile effort, lord of the rākṣasas? If you are seen by him in battle, your end is certain. If you wish to enjoy life, happiness, and your rare kingdom for a long time, do not do what displeases Rāma. With all your counselors, led by Vibhīṣaṇa, deliberate with the righteous, and make your decision after weighing faults and virtues, strength and weakness. Knowing your own power and that of Rāghava, decide what is truly beneficial and proper for you. But I do not think it fitting for you to face the son of the king of Kosala in battle. Now, hear again this excellent and fitting counsel, lord of the night-walkers.” Then Mārīca, recalling his own past, began to recount his story. “Once, roaming this earth by my own might, I possessed the strength of a thousand elephants, towering like a mountain. Dark as a rain cloud, adorned with blazing golden earrings, I terrified the world, crowned and wielding a mighty mace as my weapon…” Thus, Mārīca spoke, his words filled with truth and warning, hoping to turn Rāvaṇa from the path of destruction.