With great concern and earnestness, Mārīca addressed Rāvaṇa, questioning the advice that had led him to this perilous path. “Who has counseled you thus, O night-wanderer?” he asked. “It must be someone base and of evil mind, wishing for your ruin by your own actions.” He lamented that Rāvaṇa’s ministers, whose duty it was to restrain their king when he erred, failed to do so. Though they deserved punishment for their neglect, none was meted out. Mārīca reminded Rāvaṇa that a king, especially one swayed by desire and walking the wrong path, must be checked by virtuous ministers in every way. Yet, Rāvaṇa was left unchecked. He explained that ministers gain righteousness, wealth, desire, and fame only through the favor of their lord, but when the opposite occurs, all becomes futile. The faults of a king bring misfortune upon others. He emphasized that the root of righteousness and fame is the king, and thus, kings must be protected at all costs. A kingdom cannot thrive under a ruler who is harsh, antagonistic, or lacking in courtesy, he warned. Ministers who give harsh counsel alongside such a ruler are quickly ruined, just as chariots are destroyed when their drivers are slow. Mārīca observed that many virtuous people had perished because of the faults of others, losing all their possessions. When subjects are protected by a master who is hostile and harsh, they do not prosper, just as sheep cannot thrive under the care of a jackal. All the demons, he said, would surely perish under a king who is cruel, foolish, and unable to control his senses. He confessed that this dreadful event had come upon him by chance, and now Rāvaṇa was to be mourned, as he and his army would perish. After killing Mārīca, Rāma would soon slay Rāvaṇa, thus fulfilling Mārīca’s purpose, for he would die struck down by an enemy. Mārīca declared that he was already slain merely by the sight of Rāma, and that Rāvaṇa too was destroyed for having abducted Sītā and her kin. He warned Rāvaṇa that if he brought Sītā from the hermitage together with Mārīca, neither of them, nor Lanka, nor the demons would survive. Though Mārīca, as a well-wisher, tried to restrain him, Rāvaṇa would not listen; men whose lives are ended, like the dead, do not heed the advice spoken by friends. Thus concludes the forty-first chapter. Now begins the forty-second chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Aranya Kāṇḍa. Having spoken these harsh words, Mārīca, sorrowful and fearful before the lord of night-wanderers, said to Rāvaṇa, “Let us go.” He was resigned, knowing he had again been seen by Rāma, who bore bow, arrows, and sword, and whose weapon was raised to kill him—his life was already forfeit. Mārīca declared that no one who confronted Rāma returned alive; for Rāma was like the punishment of Yama for Rāvaṇa. “What can I do, with you being so wicked?” Mārīca said. “I depart now, O night-wanderer; may you fare well.” Rāvaṇa, delighted by these words, embraced Mārīca tightly and spoke, “Now you possess courage, acting according to my wishes. You are Mārīca now, whereas before you were another demon.” He instructed Mārīca to mount a swift, bird-like chariot adorned with jewels, yoked with donkeys of ghastly faces. Together, they would entice Vaidehī, and in the deserted place, Rāvaṇa would forcibly bring Sītā, princess of Mithilā. Agreeing, Tāṭakā’s son Mārīca spoke to Rāvaṇa, and together they boarded the chariot, soaring like a flying palace. They swiftly departed from the circle of hermitages, observing cities and forests, mountains, rivers, realms, and towns as they traveled. Eventually, they arrived at the Daṇḍaka forest and then at Rāghava’s hermitage. There, Rāvaṇa, lord of the rākṣasas, dismounted from the golden-adorned chariot, taking Mārīca by the hand. He said, “This is Rāma’s hermitage, surrounded by banana trees. Friend, quickly do that for which we have come.” Hearing these words, Mārīca, the rākṣasa, transformed himself, assuming the form of a wondrous and astonishing deer. He wandered at the entrance of Rāma’s hermitage, his horns made of finest jewels, his face both white and black, his mouth like a red lotus, ears like blue lotuses. His neck was slightly raised, his belly resembled blue sapphire, his flanks were like honey-colored flowers and the filaments of a lotus. His hooves shone like beryl, his slender legs were well-formed, and his tail was radiant, colored like Indra’s rainbow. Mārīca, enchanting and adorned with various gems, became a deer of supreme beauty, illuminating the lovely forest and Rāma’s hermitage. He made himself delightful and pleasing to the eye, wandering perfectly across the green meadows to entice Vaidehī, adorned with various minerals. He became charming, marked with hundreds of silvery spots, roaming and eating the tender leaves of the trees. He moved through the banana grove and among the kārṇikāra trees, lingering with gentle steps, awaiting Sītā’s sight—all in accordance with Rāvaṇa’s plan.