A terrible fate has befallen me by chance, Mārīca lamented, and now you, Rāvaṇa, stand here to be mourned as well. You and your mighty army are destined for ruin. After slaying me, Rāma will swiftly destroy you too, and in this, my purpose is fulfilled as I meet my end, struck down by the hand of an enemy. Consider me already dead, for even the very sight of Rāma is enough to seal my doom—and know that you, who have abducted Sītā and her kin, are likewise marked for destruction. If you bring Sītā away from her forest hermitage along with me, neither you nor I, nor the city of Lanka, nor the rākṣasas themselves, will survive. Though I speak as your well-wisher and try to restrain you, you do not heed my words, O lord of the night-wanderers; for those whose time has come, like the dead themselves, cannot listen to the counsel of friends. Now begins the forty-second chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Aranya Kāṇḍa. Having uttered these harsh truths, Mārīca, sorrowful and fearful of Rāvaṇa, said, “Let us go.” He felt the weight of doom upon him, for once again he had been spotted by Rāma, the wielder of bow, arrows, and sword, whose weapon was raised to end his life—his fate, he felt, was already sealed. No one who faces Rāma returns alive; for you, O Rāvaṇa, he is the very embodiment of Yama’s punishment. What can I do, with you set upon this wicked path? I must go now, O lord of the night; may you fare well. Rāvaṇa, however, was delighted by these words. Embracing Mārīca tightly, he spoke with approval: “Now you show true courage, acting according to my wishes. Now you are Mārīca indeed, whereas before you were but another demon.” He beckoned, “Mount this swift, bird-like chariot adorned with jewels. Let us ride together—the chariot is yoked with donkeys of ghastly visage. After you entice Vaidehī, you may depart as you wish; in that deserted place, I will seize Sītā, princess of Mithilā, by force.” Thus resolved, Tāṭakā’s son agreed to Rāvaṇa’s plan. Together, Mārīca and Rāvaṇa boarded the splendid chariot, which soared like a flying palace. Swiftly they departed from the circle of hermitages, traversing cities and forests alike. They beheld mountains, rivers, realms, and towns, until at last they reached the Daṇḍaka forest and arrived at Rāghava’s hermitage. There, Rāvaṇa, lord of the rākṣasas, and Mārīca gazed upon the humble dwelling. Dismounting from their golden-adorned chariot, Rāvaṇa took Mārīca by the hand and 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 into a wondrous and astonishing deer. At the entrance of Rāma’s hermitage, he assumed a form of breathtaking beauty: horns of the finest jewels, a face of white and black, a mouth like a red lotus, and ears the hue of blue lotuses. His neck was slightly arched, his belly shone like blue sapphire, and his flanks glowed like honey-colored flowers and lotus filaments. His hooves sparkled like beryl, his slender legs were perfectly shaped, and his tail radiated with the colors of Indra’s rainbow. Adorned in glossy hues and studded with various gems, Mārīca became a deer of supreme beauty in an instant. He lit up the lovely forest and Rāma’s hermitage, making himself delightful and pleasing to the eye. To entice Vaidehī, he wandered through the green meadows, his form adorned with minerals, moving with perfect grace. Charming and marked with hundreds of silvery spots, he roamed, nibbling at the tender leaves of the trees. He went to the banana grove, then to the kārṇikāra trees, lingering with gentle steps, awaiting Sītā’s gaze. His back was patterned like a lotus, and he shone brilliantly as he wandered near Rāma’s hermitage, moving at ease. He would dart away and return, again and again, the excellent deer, departing for a moment with speed only to come back. Sometimes he frolicked on the ground, then sat down quietly; at other times, he approached the hermitage gate, mingling among the herds of deer. Followed by the other deer, he turned back, ever longing for Sītā’s gaze, the demon in deer form. He circled about, tracing dazzling patterns, and as he moved, all the other forest-dwelling deer gazed at him in wonder. They approached and sniffed him, then scattered in all directions, while the demon, delighting in the hunt, mingled with the wild deer. Yet, to conceal his true nature, he did not eat, though he touched them. At that very moment, Vaidehī—Sītā of lovely eyes—was absorbed in gathering flowers. She wandered among the trees—karnikara, ashoka, and mango—her eyes full of gentle intoxication. As she collected blossoms, her radiant face shone. Though unaccustomed to forest life, she beheld the jewel-like deer. The supreme lady gazed upon the deer, whose limbs were adorned with pearls and gems, whose teeth and lips gleamed, whose silvery, metallic hair sparkled in the sunlight. Her eyes widened in astonishment as she looked upon him with affection, and he, the magical deer, gazed back at Rāma’s beloved.