At the urging of Rāvaṇa, Mārīca, the rākṣasa, swiftly prepared to fulfill the purpose for which he had been summoned. With a mastery of illusion, Mārīca assumed the wondrous form of a deer, so astonishing in appearance that none could have imagined such a creature. He wandered at the entrance of Rāma’s hermitage, displaying a beauty that seemed almost divine. His horns gleamed with the finest jewels, his face was marked with both white and black, and his mouth glowed like a red lotus. His ears, shaped like blue lotuses, added to his enchanting presence. The deer’s neck arched slightly, his belly shimmered like blue sapphire, and his flanks were colored like honeyed flowers and lotus filaments. His hooves sparkled like beryl, his slender legs were perfectly formed, and his tail radiated with the colors of Indra’s rainbow. Adorned with glossy hues and various gems, Mārīca transformed himself into a deer of supreme beauty in a single moment. He illuminated the lovely forest and Rāma’s hermitage, making himself delightful and pleasing to the eye. To entice Vaidehī, Sītā, he wandered across the green meadows, his body adorned with minerals, moving with perfect grace. His coat was charming, marked with hundreds of silvery spots, and he roamed, nibbling at the tender leaves of the trees. He wandered to the banana grove and lingered among the kārṇikāra trees, moving gently, awaiting Sītā’s gaze. His back was patterned like a lotus and shone brilliantly as he wandered near the hermitage. Sometimes he would dart away and return, moving with speed only to circle back again. He frolicked on the ground, then sat down, approaching the hermitage gate and mingling among the herds of deer. The other deer followed him, but Mārīca, longing for Sītā’s attention, would turn back, his heart set on catching her eye. He traced dazzling patterns as he moved, drawing the gaze of all the forest-dwelling deer. They approached and sniffed him, then scattered in all directions, while Mārīca delighted in the hunt, mingling among them. Yet, to conceal his true nature, he refrained from eating, though he touched the wild deer. At that very moment, Sītā, Vaidehi of lovely eyes, was absorbed in gathering flowers. She wandered among the trees—karnikara, ashoka, and mango—her eyes intoxicating and radiant. Collecting flowers, she roamed with a luminous face, unsuited for the hardships of forest life, and then beheld the jewel-like deer. Her gaze fell upon the deer whose limbs were adorned with pearls and gems, whose teeth and lips gleamed, and whose silvery, metallic hair shone in the sunlight. Astonished, Sītā’s eyes widened as she gazed affectionately at the magical deer, who in turn looked upon Rāma’s beloved. He wandered as if illuminating the forest itself, and Sītā, the daughter of Janaka, was filled with utmost wonder at the sight of this many-gemmed deer, such as she had never seen before. Now begins the forty-third sarga of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Araṇyakāṇḍa. Sītā, with lovely hips, while gathering flowers, beheld the deer whose sides shone with the hues of gold and silver. Delighted by its flawless form, radiant as polished gold, she called out for her husband, Rāma, and for Lakṣmaṇa, his younger brother, who was armed. Again and again, Sītā called, her gaze fixed intently on the deer: “Come, come quickly, O noble one, with your younger brother!” Summoned by Vaidehī, the two tigers among men, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, looked around and saw the magnificent deer. Lakṣmaṇa, ever cautious, spoke to Rāma: “I think this deer is none other than Mārīca, the demon. Roaming the forest and delighting in the hunt, this shape-shifting demon has slain kings before, O Rāma. This is the illusion of a master of illusion; this deer form has been conjured by him, O tiger among men, shining like a Gandharva city. O Rāghava, such a jewel-adorned deer does not exist. Lord of the earth, this is surely an illusion, there is no doubt.” But as Lakṣmaṇa spoke, Sītā, with a pure smile, interrupted him. Delighted and deceived in her heart, she replied: “Noble prince, this charming deer captivates my heart. Bring it to us, mighty-armed one—it will be for our play. Here at our hermitage, many auspicious-looking deer roam together—chamara, sṛmara, and others as well. Bears, herds of antelope, monkeys, and kinnaras too, O mighty-armed one, wander here, splendid in form and great in strength. But I have never seen another deer like this, O king—neither in brilliance, patience, nor radiance, as this foremost among deer. With its multicolored, wondrous body, like a jewel before me, illuminating the undisturbed forest, it shines like the moon. Ah, its form! Ah, its beauty! Its voice and splendor are lovely; this marvelous, variegated deer seems to steal my heart. If you capture this deer alive, it will be astonishing and inspire wonder. When our forest exile ends and we return to the kingdom, this deer will serve as an ornament in the palace.” Thus, enchanted by Mārīca’s illusion, Sītā pleaded with Rāma to bring her the wondrous deer, setting into motion the fateful events that would soon unfold.