In days long past, the regions known as Malada and Karusha were sanctified, for they had borne the bodily impurity of the lord of the heavens himself. The gods, witnessing this, praised these lands, exclaiming, “Well done, well done!” Over time, the Maladas and Karushas flourished, their people joyful and rich with wealth and grain. Yet their peace was shattered when a fearsome yakshini of changing form began to trouble them. This yakshini was Tataka, wife of the wise Sunda. Though she appeared weak, she possessed the strength of a thousand elephants. Her son was Maricha, a rakshasa whose prowess rivaled Indra’s, with massive arms, a great head, a broad mouth, and a formidable body. Maricha, terrifying in appearance, ceaselessly frightened the people and laid waste to these two regions. Tataka herself, wicked in conduct, devastated Malada and Karusha, dwelling in the forest and blocking the path, half a yojana distant. Vishvamitra, the sage, addressed Rama, urging him to go to Tataka’s forest and, relying on his own strength, destroy this wicked one. “By my command,” said Vishvamitra, “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 yakshini; all has been told to you about this dreadful forest, which remains ruined by her even now.” The narrative then continued to the twenty-fifth sarga of the glorious Valmiki Ramayana, in the Bala Kanda. Having heard the sage’s words, Rama, the tiger among men, replied with auspicious speech, “O foremost among sages, it is said that the yakshini is of little strength; how does this weak one bear the power of a thousand elephants?” Vishvamitra, delighted by Rama’s question, spoke gently to him and Lakshmana, “Hear how she became so powerful. By a boon granted, she bears the strength, though she is weak. Once, there was a great yaksha named Suketu, mighty and virtuous. He was childless and performed great austerities. The lord of the yakshas, pleased with him, gave him a jewel among daughters, named Tataka, and granted her the strength of a thousand elephants, though he did not give Suketu a son. As Tataka grew, beautiful and youthful, she was given in marriage to Sunda, the illustrious son of Jambha. In time, Tataka bore a son named Maricha, who, by a curse, became a rakshasa. When Sunda was slain, Tataka and her son, driven by hunger and rage, attacked the eminent sage Agastya. Seeing Tataka rushing at him, Agastya cursed Maricha, saying, ‘Assume the form of a rakshasa!’ He also cursed Tataka, declaring, ‘O great yakshini, devourer of men, monstrous and deformed of face, quickly abandon this form—let a dreadful appearance be yours!’ Transformed by the curse and overwhelmed by anger, Tataka devastated the region once sanctified by Agastya. Vishvamitra urged Rama, “For the welfare of cows and Brahmins, slay this wicked and terrible yakshini Tataka, whose evil deeds are great. No man in the three worlds, except you, O delight of the Raghus, is able to kill her, for she is empowered by a curse. You should not hesitate to slay a woman in this case; for the welfare of the four orders, a prince must act. For the protection of the people, whether an act is cruel or not, sinful or faulty, it must always be done by the protector. This is the eternal duty of those entrusted with kingship; slay the unrighteous one, O descendant of Kakutstha, for there is no righteousness in her. It is heard that in ancient times Indra slew Manthara, daughter of Virocana, who sought to destroy the earth. And formerly, Vishnu slew Kavyā’s wife, the devoted spouse of Bhṛgu, who wished for a world without Indra. By these and many other noble princes, unrighteous women have been slain by the best of men; therefore, casting aside hesitation, slay her at my command, O king.” The tale then moved to the twenty-sixth sarga. Hearing the sage’s resolute words, Rama, son of the best of men, with joined palms and firm resolve, replied, “Out of obedience and respect for my father’s command, and because of the authority of Kauśika’s words, this task must be done without hesitation. I have been instructed in Ayodhya among great teachers by my father Dasaratha; his words must not be disregarded. For the welfare of cows and Brahmins, for the good of the land, and to fulfill your own unfathomable word, I am now prepared to act.” Having spoken thus, Rama, the subduer of enemies, fastened his grip at the center of his bow and produced a sharp twang, its sound resounding through all directions. Frightened by that sound, the dwellers of Tataka’s forest were alarmed, and Tataka herself, greatly enraged, was bewildered by the noise. Fixating on the sound, the demoness, overcome with wrath, rushed furiously toward the place from which the sound had come.