As the Godāvarī river, fearful and cautious, slowed its flow, Daśagrīva—Rāvaṇa, the ten-headed lord of the Rākṣasas—sought his chance against Rāma and drew near. Disguised as a wandering mendicant, Rāvaṇa approached Vaidehī, Sītā, appearing worthy though he was unworthy, while she sat mourning her absent husband. He came to Sītā suddenly, like Saturn approaching a brilliant star, his guise respectable yet concealing his true nature, much like a well hidden beneath grass. Standing before Rāma’s illustrious wife, Rāvaṇa gazed intently at her, his mind fixed upon her. Sītā, beautiful and radiant, with lovely teeth and lips, her face shining like the full moon, sat in the leaf-hut, overwhelmed with tears and sorrow. The night-stalker Rāvaṇa, delighted in mind, drew closer to Vaidehī, whose eyes resembled lotus petals and who wore yellow silk. Pierced by the arrows of desire, he raised a sound like the chanting of sacred words and spoke courteous words to her in private. He praised her beauty, radiant as the highest fortune of the three worlds deprived of the lotus, shining in her splendor. Clad in yellow silk and adorned with a garland of lotuses, her appearance rivaled silver and gold, like a blooming lotus-pond. Rāvaṇa asked, “Are you Modesty, Fortune, Fame, Auspicious Lakṣmī, or a celestial nymph, O beautiful-faced one? Or are you Prosperity, O lovely-hipped, or the free-roaming goddess of Love?” He continued, marveling, “Your teeth are even, smooth, and white as mountain snow; your eyes are large and clear, with red corners and dark pupils. Your hips are broad, your thighs full, rounded, and firm, like the trunks of young elephants, well-shaped and closely set. Your breasts are full, high, and lovely, resembling smooth palm-fruits, adorned with gems and pearls, beautiful to behold. O Rāma’s beloved, with charming smile, lovely teeth, and enchanting eyes, playful one, you steal my mind as water steals the riverbank. With a waist graspable by the hand, beautiful hair, and closely-set breasts, you are neither goddess, nor celestial, nor yakṣī, nor kinnarī. Never before on earth have I seen a woman of such form; your beauty, delicacy, and youth are supreme in the worlds. Your dwelling in this lonely forest stirs my heart; so, depart, good lady, you should not remain here. This is the abode of Rākṣasas, fierce and shape-shifting; there are splendid palaces and city gardens. They are rich, fragrant, and suitable for you to enjoy; O beautiful one, you deserve the finest garlands, perfumes, and garments. O dark-eyed one, you deserve a worthy husband; who are you, with pure smile—are you among the wives of Rudras or Maruts? O lovely-hipped, you appear to me as a goddess among the Vasus; for Gandharvas, gods, and Kinnaras do not come here. This is the dwelling of Rākṣasas—how have you come here? Here are tree-dwelling deer, lions, island-tigers, and wolves. There are bears, hyenas, cranes—how do you not fear them? And the fierce, intoxicated, swift elephants? How do you, alone in this great forest, O beautiful-faced one, not feel fear? Who are you, whose daughter, from where, and for what reason have you come to Daṇḍaka? O lovely one, you wander alone through places frequented by fierce rākṣasas.” Thus, Rāvaṇa, the great-souled lord of the Rākṣasas, praised Vaidehī. Seeing him arrive in the guise of a twice-born, Maithilī honored him with all the courtesies due to a guest. She brought a seat, invited him with water for washing his feet, and said, “All is ready,” to the gentle-looking one. Observing him dressed as a brāhmaṇa, bearing a vessel and kusumbha, Maithilī found it impossible to refuse, and welcomed him as one would a brāhmaṇa. “Here is a seat, brāhmaṇa, please be seated; accept this water for your feet. This excellent forest fare, prepared for you, may you partake of it here without concern.” Rāvaṇa, seeing Maithilī, the queen, speak fully and invitingly, resolved in his mind to seize her by force and dedicate himself to her destruction. As she waited for her husband, splendidly dressed and returned from the hunt, accompanied by Lakṣmaṇa, Sītā looked around and saw the vast green forest, but neither Rāma nor Lakṣmaṇa appeared. Let the forty-seventh chapter be heard, in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Araṇyakāṇḍa. Then, Vaidehī was questioned by Rāvaṇa, who wished to abduct her, declaring himself while still disguised as a wandering ascetic. Sītā thought, “If this brāhmaṇa guest is not properly received, he may curse me,” and after a moment’s reflection, spoke these words: “I am the daughter of Janaka, the great king of Mithilā; my name is Sītā. Blessings to you. I am the beloved queen of Rāma. I lived for twelve years in the palace of the Ikṣvākus, enjoying human pleasures, fulfilled in all desires. In the thirteenth year, the king, together with his ministers, resolved to consecrate Rāma as ruler. As preparations were made for Rāghava’s consecration, my noble mother-in-law, named Kaikeyī, requested a boon from her husband. Kaikeyī, having won my father-in-law’s favor, secured my husband’s exile and Bharata’s consecration. She asked the king, steadfast in truth and foremost among men, for two boons: ‘I will neither eat, nor sleep, nor drink, ever.