Sītā gazed in wonder at the extraordinary deer that had appeared before her in the forest. Turning to Rāma, she said, “For Bharata, for my revered mothers-in-law, and for myself, O lord, this divine deer will surely inspire amazement. If you could capture this remarkable creature alive, O tiger among men, its splendid skin would be yours. But if it must be slain, I wish to worship its golden hide, laid upon the grass mat. My desire for it is intense, and perhaps not fitting for a woman, yet the sight of this deer fills me with awe.” She described its form with reverence: “See its golden hair, the splendid jeweled antlers, the youthful radiance like the sun, and the brilliance that rivals the starry path.” Rāma too was struck by Sītā’s words and the marvel of the deer before them. Enchanted by its form and prompted by Sītā’s longing, he turned to Lakṣmaṇa with delight and said, “Look, Lakṣmaṇa, at Vaidehī’s eager wish. For such supreme beauty, this deer will not remain in the forest today. Where on earth, in the Nandana groves or the retreats of Caitraratha, is there any deer equal to this one?” He continued, marveling at the animal, “Its beautiful rows of hair, shining both against and with the grain, are adorned with varied golden spots. As it yawns, its tongue glows like a blazing flame, emerging from its mouth like a cloud with a hundred rays. Its face gleams with sapphire and gold, its belly like conch and pearls—who would not desire such an indescribable creature? Who, seeing this radiant, gem-adorned form, shining like gold from the Jambū river, would not be filled with wonder?” Rāma reflected further, “For the sake of meat, and also for sport, kings hunt deer with bows in the great forest. Treasures are sought here through effort—minerals, gems, and gold. All that is considered the essence of 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 the science of wealth, 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 of these, I think, would match this one in touch.” He compared the deer to celestial wonders, “This splendid deer and that star-deer moving in the sky—both are divine: the star-deer and the earth-deer.” Then, Rāma grew thoughtful. “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 have been harmed before. Many kings, expert archers, have risen up for the hunt and been slain by him; therefore, this deer must be killed.” He recalled the tale of Vātāpi, “Earlier, here, Vātāpi deceived ascetics and killed brahmins from within their bellies, as a foal within its mother. Out of greed, he 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 instructed Lakṣmaṇa firmly, “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. This deer will not survive today, for its skin is its chief allure; you must remain alert in the hermitage with Sītā. As soon as I strike down this spotted deer with a single arrow, I will take its hide and return quickly, O Lakṣmaṇa. With the mighty and wise bird Jaṭāyu circling to the right, you must remain vigilant, protecting Maithili, and be wary at every moment from all sides.” Thus, the forty-fourth chapter of the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Araṇyakāṇḍa, begins. Having so instructed his brother, Rāma, radiant with great energy, fastened his sword, its hilt gleaming with Jambū-nada gold. He took up his triple-curved bow, his own ornament, and slung two quivers over his shoulders, striding forth with vigor. As he approached, the king of the forest—the marvelous deer—darted away at the sight of the king of kings. Out of fear, it vanished from view, only to reappear again. With his sword fastened and bow in hand, Rāma pursued the deer, watching it shine before him with its splendid form. He followed, bow ready, deeper into the great forest, observing as the deer’s movements became odd and suspicious. It leapt as if into the sky, sometimes visible, sometimes vanishing into the shadows of the forest, enticing Rāma onward with its enchanting, elusive form.