Ravana, his mind set on his scheme, spoke sternly to Maricha, rebuking him for his hesitation. “At all times and in all circumstances, such guests as these must be honored and revered,” he declared. “But you, ignorant of your duty, are overcome by delusion. Out of malice, you have spoken such harsh words to one who has come to you. I do not ask about merits or faults, nor even about your own welfare, O Rakshasa. “Even after all I have said, O Maricha—though you are said to possess restrained prowess—you must assist me in this task. Listen carefully as I tell you what you must do for me. You must transform yourself into a golden deer, adorned with silver spots, and roam before Sita in Rama’s hermitage. Entice Vaidehi with your wondrous form, and then depart as you wish. “When Maithili beholds you—a magical, golden creature—she will be amazed and will quickly urge Rama, ‘Bring it to me!’ When Kakutstha has gone far away, you should cry out, ‘Ha, Sita! Lakshmana!’ in a voice that resembles Rama’s. Hearing those cries, and pressed by Sita, Saumitri too, out of friendship and concern, will anxiously follow Rama’s path. “With Rama and Lakshmana drawn away, I will seize Vaidehi at my leisure, just as Indra, the thousand-eyed, once took Shachi. Having accomplished this, you may go wherever you wish, O Rakshasa—for your steadfast service, O Maricha, I will grant you half my kingdom. Go now, gentle one, by a safe path, for the success of this endeavor. I will follow you in my chariot into the Dandaka forest. Once I have deceived Raghava in battle and carried Sita away, I will return to Lanka with my purpose accomplished, and you by my side. “But if you refuse, Maricha, I will surely kill you today. You must carry out this task for me, even by force. One who stands against the king never finds happiness. If you oppose me, your life will be forfeit; death is certain for you today if you defy me. Consider this carefully, and do what is proper.” Thus concluded the fortieth sarga of the Aranyakanda in the glorious Valmiki Ramayana. Commanded so harshly by Ravana, and witnessing his abandonment of the kingly path, Maricha, unafraid, spoke bitter words to the lord of the Rakshasas. “Who has given you this counsel of destruction, O night-wanderer? Who has urged you toward ruin—of yourself, your sons, your kingdom, and your ministers, you who act with evil intent? “Who, O king, being happy, would not welcome you, O doer of evil? Who has pointed out to you this very gateway to death? It is clear that your enemies, weak in strength, wish to see you destroyed by one more powerful. Who has advised you thus, someone base and evil-minded, who wishes you to perish by your own hand, O night-wanderer? “Your ministers, O Ravana, who do not restrain you when you stray from the righteous path, though deserving of punishment, are not chastised. A king driven by desire and gone astray must certainly be restrained by virtuous ministers in every way—but you are not restrained. “O best of conquerors, ministers obtain righteousness, wealth, desire, and fame through the favor of their lord. But when the opposite occurs, all is lost; others suffer for the faults of their king. For the root of righteousness and fame is the king himself; therefore, kings must be protected at all times. “A kingdom cannot be ruled by one who is harsh, excessively antagonistic, or lacking in courtesy, O demon. Ministers who give harsh counsel to such a king are soon ruined in difficult times, like chariots with slow drivers. Many virtuous people have perished along with their possessions due to the faults of others. “When subjects are ruled by a master who is hostile and harsh, O Ravana, they do not prosper—just as sheep do not thrive under the care of a jackal. All the demons will certainly perish, O Ravana, whose king is cruel, foolish, and unable to control his senses. “This dreadful fate has befallen me by chance, and soon you too will be mourned; you and your army will perish. After killing me, Rama will soon slay you as well; thus my purpose is fulfilled, for I die at the hand of an enemy. Consider me already slain, merely by Rama’s gaze; know that you too are destroyed, having abducted Sita along with her kin. “If you bring Sita from the hermitage, even with me, neither you nor I, nor Lanka nor the Rakshasas, will survive. Though I, your well-wisher, try to restrain you, you do not heed my words. Men whose time has come, like the dead, do not listen to the counsel of friends.” Thus the forty-first sarga of the Aranyakanda is told in the glorious Valmiki Ramayana. After speaking so harshly, Maricha, sorrowful and fearful of the lord of the Rakshasas, said to Ravana, “Let us go.” He lamented, “Once again I must face him—he who bears bow, arrows, and sword, whose weapon is ever raised to strike me down. My life is already forfeit. No one who confronts Rama returns alive; he is like Yama’s punishment for you. What can I possibly do, with you so bent on wickedness? I depart now, O night-wanderer. May you fare well.” Thus begins the forty-second sarga of the Aranyakanda in the glorious Valmiki Ramayana.