Hearing the words of Rāvaṇa, the king of the Rākṣasas, the eloquent and radiant Mārīca replied to him with measured wisdom. “O King,” he began, “men who always speak pleasant words are easy to find, but one who speaks and listens to what is unpleasant yet wholesome is truly rare.” He continued, “You do not truly understand Rāma—exalted in strength and virtue, unpredictable in conduct, ever vigilant, and equal to Indra and Varuṇa in might. May all the Rākṣasas, dear one, remain safe; may Rāma, if angered, not destroy the worlds and our own race. May the daughter of Janaka not have arisen for your ruin; may there not come a great calamity because of Sītā. May the city of Lanka, together with all the Rākṣasas, not perish with you, their lord, indulging in unchecked desires.” Mārīca’s words grew more urgent. “A king such as you, ruled by desire, of questionable character, and surrounded 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 neither greedy nor of bad character, nor a stain upon the Kṣatriya race. He, the joy of Kausalyā, is not lacking in the virtues of dharma; he is not harsh to beings, but devoted to the welfare of all creatures. “Seeing his truthful father deceived by Kaikeyī, that righteous one simply said, ‘I will do it,’ and went into exile in the forest. For the sake of Kaikeyī’s desire and his father Daśaratha, he abandoned the kingdom and its pleasures and entered the Daṇḍaka forest. Rāma is not harsh, dear one, nor ignorant, nor uncontrolled; you should not speak what is untrue or unfounded 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 intend to seize Vaidehī, who is 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 unending, and who cannot be approached. “He, whose bow is drawn wide, whose mouth is radiant, whose arrows are like fire, who is unyielding, armed and fierce, destroyer of enemy armies—having abandoned kingdom, comfort, and even his own cherished life, you should not, dear one, bring about your own end for the sake of Rāma. 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. “To that lion among men, broad-chested and radiant, his wife—ever devoted—is dearer than life itself. That beloved of the mighty son of Mithilā, Sītā of slender waist, 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, that will surely be your end. “If you wish to enjoy life, happiness, and your exceedingly rare kingdom for a long time, do not do what displeases Rāma. With all your counselors, led by Vibhīṣaṇa, having deliberated with the righteous and made up your mind, carefully weighing faults and virtues, strength and weakness, knowing your own strength and that of Rāghava in truth, you should decide what is truly beneficial and proper for you. “But I think it is not fitting for you to meet the son of the king of Kosala in battle. Now, hear again this excellent, proper, and fitting counsel, lord of the night-walkers.” Mārīca then recalled his own past, saying, “Once, roaming this earth by my own might, bearing the strength of a thousand elephants, I was like a mountain—dark as a rain cloud, adorned with blazing golden earrings, terrifying the world, crowned and wielding a mace as my weapon. I wandered the Daṇḍaka forest, eating the flesh of sages; then Viśvāmitra, the righteous and great sage, terrified of me, went himself to King Daśaratha and said, ‘Let Rāma protect me, intent, at the time of sacrifice.’ ‘O king, a terrible fear of Mārīca has arisen in me,’ said the sage. Thus addressed, the righteous King Daśaratha replied, ‘This Rāghava is not yet twelve years old and untrained in arms. Indeed, my army will go with me; with my fourfold force, I myself will come against the night-stalker. I will slay your enemy, best of sages, as you desire.’ But Viśvāmitra answered, ‘There is no other force in the world, apart from Rāma, sufficient against that Rākṣasa; even among the gods, you are the protector in battles. The deed you performed, O king, is renowned throughout the three worlds; though you have a great army, let it remain here, O scorcher of foes. Even though he is a boy, this one of great brilliance is capable of restraining him; I will go, taking Rāma with me—may you fare well, O subduer of enemies.’ Having spoken thus, the sage, exceedingly pleased, took the prince and departed for his own hermitage. There, in the Daṇḍaka forest, Rāma stood ready, having undertaken the vow for the sacrifice, wondrously stringing his bow. Unmarked by beard, radiant, a dark-complexioned boy with auspicious eyes, wearing a single garment, carrying a bow, with a topknot adorned with a golden garland, he stood prepared.” Thus, Mārīca urged Rāvaṇa to consider well the true nature and power of Rāma, and to abandon his destructive intent.