As Sita, beloved wife of Rama and dearer to him than life itself, was being carried away helplessly by Ravana, she called out in desperation, “If you see my husband, tell him that Sita has been taken by Ravana.” She believed with unwavering faith that Rama, mighty-armed and powerful, would rescue her even from the very grasp of Vaivasvata, the god of death, through his valor. Overwhelmed by distress and uttering words of compassion, Sita’s wide eyes, filled with sorrow, searched her surroundings. She spotted the noble vulture Jatayu perched upon a tree. Though under Ravana’s control and trembling with fear, Sita, her lovely form trembling, cried out with a voice broken by grief, “Jatayu, see me! O noble one, I am being carried away, unprotected, by this king of Rakshasas, cruel and wicked in his deeds. This night-wanderer is strong, deceptive, armed, and evil-minded—you cannot stop him. Jatayu, please tell Rama the truth about my abduction, and tell Lakshmana everything, without leaving out a single detail.” Now begins the fiftieth sarga of the glorious Valmiki Ramayana, in the Aranyakanda. Jatayu, though not fully awake, heard the commotion and quickly looked around. He saw Ravana, and also beheld Vaidehi, Sita, in distress. With his beak sharp as a mountain peak, the illustrious king of birds, perched upon the tree, spoke auspicious words to Ravana: “O Ten-headed one! You once stood firm in righteousness and were devoted to truth. Brother, you should not now commit this blameworthy act. I am Jatayu, mighty king of vultures, ruler of all beings, comparable to Mahendra and Varuna. Rama, son of Dasaratha, is devoted to the welfare of all, and this illustrious lady is his lawful wife. She is Sita, of noble form, whom you seek to seize. How can a king, established in righteousness, touch another’s wife? Especially must a king protect the wives of others, O mighty one; turn back from this base course of coveting another’s wife. A wise man should not do what others would condemn; as one guards his own wife from violation, so should he guard the wives of others. Whether for gain or desire, the virtuous, even in matters not set forth in the scriptures, discern the right path, O descendant of Pulastya. The king, righteousness, desire, and wealth are the highest treasures; from the king springs both virtue and vice, as well as prosperity. How, being fickle and of evil nature, O foremost of Rakshasas, have you attained sovereignty—like a wicked man ascending a celestial car? That which is rooted in desire cannot be easily removed; noble conduct does not long dwell in the house of the wicked. Whether in your realm or city, Rama, mighty and righteous, has committed no offense; how then do you wrong him? If Khara, because of Surpanakha, came to Janasthana and was slain by Rama, who acts without blame, having overstepped his bounds—then speak truly: what transgression has Rama committed, that you, after abducting the wife of the lord of the world, would depart? Quickly release Vaidehi, lest you be burned by her fierce gaze, as Vrtra was by Indra’s thunderbolt, which was like fire. You do not realize that you have tied a venomous serpent in the edge of your garment; nor do you see the noose of death fastened around your neck. O gentle one, only that burden should be borne which does not overwhelm a man; only that food should be eaten which, when digested, brings no harm. What action should one perform that brings neither righteousness, nor fame, nor lasting glory, but only weariness to the body? For sixty thousand years, O Ravana, I have rightly upheld the kingdom inherited from my fathers and grandfathers since my birth. I am old, while you are young, armed with a bow, a chariot, and armor; yet you will not succeed in taking Vaidehi from me and departing safely. You are not able to seize Vaidehi by force while I watch, just as one cannot take away the firm knowledge of the Vedas, grounded in reason and justice. If you are truly a hero, fight! Stay for a moment, Ravana; you will lie slain on the ground, just as Khara did before. By him who has slain Daityas and Danavas many times in battle, by that Rama in ascetic garb, you will soon be killed in combat. What can I do, since the princes have gone far away? You, vile one, will soon perish out of fear of them—of that there is no doubt. As long as I live, you will not take this auspicious lady, Sita, lotus-eyed and beloved queen of Rama. Yet I must surely do what is dear to that great-souled one, for Rama’s sake—even at the cost of my life—and for Dasaratha as well. Stay, stay, ten-headed one! Wait a moment, Ravana. I would strike you down from your excellent chariot like a fruit from its stalk. I will offer you the hospitality of battle, as best I can, O night-wanderer.” Now begins the fifty-first sarga in the glorious Valmiki Ramayana, Aranyakanda. Thus addressed, the king of the Rakshasas, his eyes blazing red with anger and adorned with golden earrings, rushed furiously at the king of birds. A tumultuous and fierce clash erupted between the two in that great battle, like clouds driven together by the wind in the sky. Then there occurred a wondrous fight between the vulture and the Rakshasa, both winged and garlanded, like two great mountains colliding in their fury.