As Rāma gazed upon the dazzling deer adorned with jewels, Lakṣmaṇa spoke with concern, “O Rāghava, such a creature does not exist in this world. Lord of the earth, this must surely be an illusion—there is no doubt.” But before he could finish, Sītā, her face radiant with purity and delight, interrupted him. Though her mind was deceived, her heart was captivated, and she addressed her noble husband with gentle eagerness. “Noble prince,” Sītā said, “this enchanting deer has captured my heart. Mighty-armed one, please bring it to us—it will be a delightful companion for our play in the forest.” She spoke of the many auspicious deer that wandered near their hermitage: chamaras, sṛmaras, and other kinds, as well as bears, antelope, monkeys, and kinnaras, all splendid in form and strength. Yet, she confessed, “No other deer like this have I seen—not in brilliance, patience, or radiance. This one is truly the foremost among deer.” Sītā’s eyes shone as she described the deer’s multicolored, wondrous body, gleaming like a jewel and illuminating the tranquil forest, shining as brightly as the moon. “Ah, its form! Ah, its beauty! Its voice and splendor are so lovely. This marvelous, variegated deer has stolen my heart. If you can capture it alive, it will inspire wonder. When our exile ends and we return to the kingdom, this deer will be a splendid ornament in the palace—for Bharata, for my mothers-in-law, and for myself, O lord. Its divine form will bring amazement to all.” Sītā continued, “If you capture this foremost deer alive, O tiger among men, its beautiful skin will be yours. If you must slay it, I wish to worship its golden skin, laid upon our grass mat. This desire is fierce and perhaps unbefitting for a woman, but the form of this creature fills me with wonder. Its golden hair, jeweled horns, youthful sun-like color, and the brilliance of the starry path—all these captivate me.” Rāma, hearing Sītā’s words and seeing the extraordinary deer, felt his own mind struck with wonder. Enchanted by its form and urged by Sītā’s longing, Rāma turned to his brother Lakṣmaṇa with delight. “Look, Lakṣmaṇa, at Vaidehī’s eager longing. For the sake of its supreme beauty, this deer will not remain here today. In all the forests, in the groves of Nandana, and even in the retreats of Caitraratha, where on earth is there any deer equal to this one?” He marveled at the deer’s beautiful rows of hair, shining with varied golden spots. As it yawned, its tongue emerged from its mouth, brilliant as a blazing flame, like a hundred-rayed cloud. Its face was like sapphire and gold, its belly resembling conch and pearls. “Who would not desire such an indescribable deer? Who, seeing this radiant form—divine, adorned with gems, shining like gold from the Jambū river—would not be filled with wonder?” Rāma reflected, “For meat and for sport, kings hunt deer with bows in the great forest. Here, treasures are sought—minerals, gems, gold. All that is considered wealth among men, the means of increasing riches, and all that is desired in the mind, is as it is for Śukra. Whatever a seeker pursues for gain, without hesitation, is called ‘wealth’ by those skilled in its science, O noble Lakṣmaṇa. On the priceless golden skin of this jewel among deer, Vaidehī, slender-waisted, will sit with me. Neither the plantain, nor the priyaka, nor the praveṇī, nor the āvikī—none would match this one in touch.” He compared the deer to celestial beings, “This splendid deer and that celestial one moving in the sky—both are divine: the star-deer and the earth-deer. If, as you say, O Lakṣmaṇa, this is indeed a demon’s illusion, then I must slay this deer. For by this cruel Māricā, whose nature is unrighteous, the foremost sages wandering in the forest were previously harmed. Many kings, expert archers, who rose up for the hunt, were slain by him; therefore, this deer must be killed.” Rāma recalled the story of Vātāpi, who deceived ascetics and killed brahmins from within their bellies, like a foal within its mother. Out of greed, Vātāpi once approached the great sage Agastya, endowed with brilliance, and became his food. “By you, O Vātāpi, the best of brahmins were disregarded and overpowered by your might; thus you have come to old age among the living. Such a being is not a true demon, O Lakṣmaṇa, who would scorn someone like me—steadfast in righteousness and self-control—just as Vātāpi did. He will meet his end, just as Vātāpi was destroyed by Agastya. Do not go, but remain here, armed and vigilant, to guard Maithili.” Rāma concluded, “Our duty here, O delight of the Raghus, depends on her. I will either slay this creature or capture the deer. While I go swiftly, O Saumitri, to bring back the deer, observe the longing Vaidehī has for its beautiful skin.” With these words, Rāma prepared to pursue the wondrous deer, his heart stirred by Sītā’s desire and the marvel of the creature before them.