As evening approached on their journey, the sage Viśvāmitra turned to Rāma, whose countenance shone with auspiciousness, and said, “Let us spend the night here today, O Rāma, between these two holy rivers. Tomorrow, we shall cross over.” He suggested they all, pure in mind, approach a sacred hermitage nearby, assuring Rāma that their stay there would be most excellent and the night would pass in comfort. Following his guidance, the travelers bathed, performed their sacred recitations, and offered oblations. As they conversed, the resident ascetics—whose eyes shone with the power of long-practiced austerity—gazed upon them. Recognizing their distinguished guests, the sages, filled with supreme joy, approached with delight. They offered water for washing the feet, water for welcome, and extended hospitality to Viśvāmitra, the illustrious son of Kuśika. Afterward, they performed the rites of hospitality for Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa as well, honoring them and delighting the princes with pleasant stories. As evening deepened, the focused sages, along with the resident ascetics and those steadfast in their vows, performed the evening prayers together. In the hermitage of Kāma, they all dwelt most happily. The righteous sage Kauśika, foremost among ascetics, entertained Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa with delightful tales, making their stay peaceful and joyful. When dawn broke and the day was clear, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, destroyers of enemies, completed their morning rites. With Viśvāmitra leading, they approached the riverbank. There, the great-souled sages, steadfast in their vows, had prepared a fine boat. They spoke to Viśvāmitra, saying, “Please board the boat, with the princes at the forefront; travel safely, and may there be no delay.” Honoring the sages, Viśvāmitra agreed and, together with Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, crossed the river that flowed to the ocean. As they reached the middle of the stream, a tumultuous sound arose, intensified by the agitation of the water. Seeking the source of this noise, Rāma, ever curious, questioned the eminent sage, “What is this tumultuous noise of the water breaking apart?” The righteous sage began to explain: “On Mount Kailāsa, O Rāma, a supreme lake was created by the mind. By Brahmā’s will, this Mānasa lake came into being, and from it the river flowed forth, approaching Ayodhyā. The sacred Sarayū, originating from Brahmā’s lake, flows here, and this incomparable sound is hers as she joins the Jahnavī. Born from the disturbance of the waters, O Rāma, offer your respectful salutation.” Hearing this, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, both exceedingly righteous, offered their salutations to the sacred river. Having reached the southern bank, the two princes, swift in movement, proceeded onward. Soon, they beheld a forest of terrifying appearance. Rāma, the unvanquished descendant of Ikṣvāku, questioned the sage: “This forest is formidable, filled with multitudes of crickets, fearsome beasts, and birds with harsh cries. I see lions, tigers, boars, elephants, and many kinds of trees—dhava, ashvakarna, kakubha, bilva, tinduka, patala, and jujube. Why is this forest so dreadful?” Viśvāmitra, possessed of immense energy, replied, “Listen, O child of Kakutstha, to the reason for this dreadful forest. Once, two prosperous regions flourished here—Malada and Karūṣa—created by the gods themselves. Long ago, after Indra slew Vṛtra, he was overwhelmed by impurity. Hunger and the sin of Brahma-hatya entered the thousand-eyed one. The gods and ascetic sages, seeing Indra thus afflicted, bathed him here and removed his impurity, depositing it upon the earth in this very place. Thus, these lands came to be known as Malada and Karūṣa, born from Indra’s body. Purified and freed from impurity, Indra rejoiced and, pleased, granted these lands a supreme boon: they would attain renown in the world. The gods praised these regions, saying to Indra, ‘Well done, well done!’ The Maladas and Karūṣas, joyful and rich in wealth and grain, flourished for a time. But eventually, they were troubled by a yakṣinī of fearsome strength and changing form. Her name was Tāṭakā, wife of the wise Sunda, and her son was Mārīca, a rākṣasa of immense might. This rākṣasa, terrifying in appearance, constantly frightens the people and destroys these two regions. Tāṭakā, wicked in conduct, devastates Malada and Karūṣa; she dwells blocking this path, half a yojana away. Therefore, O Rāma, you must go to Tāṭakā’s forest and, relying on your own strength, destroy this wicked one. By my command, make this region free from thorns once more, for no one is able to come here as it is now. This land has been devastated by a fierce and intolerable yakṣinī, and all has been told to you about this dreadful forest, which remains ruined by her even now.” Thus ends this portion of the tale, as told in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Bāla Kāṇḍa.