As Rāvaṇa sped away with Sītā, Jaṭāyu, the noble king of birds, called out to him with fierce resolve. “If you are truly a hero, Rāvaṇa, then fight! Stay for a moment. You will be slain on the ground, just as Khara was before you. By that Rāma, who has vanquished Daityas and Dānavas many times in battle—even while clad in ascetic garb—you will soon be killed in combat. What can I do, since the princes are far away? Yet, vile one, you will soon perish out of fear of them—of that there is no doubt. As long as I live, you shall not take this auspicious lady, Sītā, lotus-eyed and beloved queen of Rāma. I must do what is dear to that great-souled one, for Rāma’s sake—even at the cost of my life—and for Daśaratha as well. Stay, stay, ten-headed one! Wait a moment, Rāvaṇa. 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.” Thus addressed, the king of the Rākṣasas, his eyes reddened with anger and blazing golden earrings shining, rushed furiously at Jaṭāyu, the king of birds. A tumultuous and fierce clash arose between them, like clouds driven together by the wind in the sky. Both winged and garlanded, the vulture and the Rākṣasa fought a wondrous battle, like two great mountains colliding. Rāvaṇa unleashed a terrible rain of sharp-tipped arrows and barbed darts upon Jaṭāyu. The lord of the feathered race received these volleys in battle, but with his powerful, sharp-clawed feet, Jaṭāyu inflicted many wounds on Rāvaṇa’s body. Enraged, the ten-headed one seized ten dreadful arrows, resembling the rods of death, intent on destroying his enemy. He released them, sharp and terrible as stone-tipped weapons, piercing Jaṭāyu with their force. Despite the pain, Jaṭāyu saw Sītā, tear-filled eyes gazing from Rāvaṇa’s chariot, and disregarding the arrows, he rushed at the demon. With his mighty feet, the great bird broke Rāvaṇa’s jeweled bow and arrows. Rāvaṇa, overwhelmed by anger, took up another bow and showered hundreds and thousands of arrows upon Jaṭāyu. Covered by arrows in battle, the lord of birds appeared as if he had reached his nest, like a bird settling in its home. Yet Jaṭāyu shook off those clusters of arrows with his wings, and with his powerful feet, broke Rāvaṇa’s great bow once more. The king of birds, radiant with brilliance, shook off Rāvaṇa’s blazing, fire-like shower of arrows with his wings. He struck down Rāvaṇa’s swift, divine horses, clad in golden armor and bearing faces like demons. Then, with swift force, he broke the magnificent chariot, adorned with three banners, moving at will, blazing like fire, and decorated with jeweled steps. Jaṭāyu knocked down the umbrella, shining like the full moon, along with the fans and the rakṣasas who held them. With his beak, the mighty king of birds struck and tore off the large, splendid head of Rāvaṇa’s charioteer. Now, Rāvaṇa’s bow broken, chariot lost, horses and charioteer slain, the demon fell to the ground, still holding Vaidehī in his arms. Seeing Rāvaṇa fallen, his vehicle destroyed, the beings of the world praised Jaṭāyu, exclaiming, “Well done, well done!” But Rāvaṇa, seeing the bird chief exhausted and aged, seized Maithilī and sprang up again. Placing Janaka’s daughter on his lap, Rāvaṇa, now armed only with his sword and all his means lost and destroyed, began to depart. Yet Jaṭāyu rose up once more and rushed at Rāvaṇa, blocking him, and spoke these words with great brilliance: “Rāvaṇa, of little understanding, you are taking Rāma’s wife—whose arrows are like the touch of thunderbolts—for the destruction of the rākṣasas. With friends, relatives, ministers, army, and attendants, you drink poison as if it were water, because you thirst for it. Those who do not know the consequences of their actions, lacking discernment, quickly perish, just as you will perish. You are bound by the noose of time; where will you go to escape it? Like a fish caught with bait, you are seized for destruction. O Rāvaṇa, the two sons of Raghu, descended from Kakutstha, will never tolerate your assault or the violation of this hermitage. The act you have committed, cowardly and condemned by the world, is the way of thieves, not the path followed by heroes. If you are truly a warrior, then fight! Stand for a moment, Rāvaṇa. You will lie slain on the ground, just as your brother Khara did. At the time of death, whatever action a man undertakes, if it is unrighteous, it leads only to his own destruction—and such a deed you have now chosen. Who indeed would perform an act whose consequence is sin? Not even the lord of the world, the self-born, the divine one himself, would do so.” Having spoken these auspicious words, the mighty Jaṭāyu fell forcefully upon the back of the ten-headed Rāvaṇa, determined to protect Sītā and fulfill his duty to Rāma, even at the cost of his own life.