As Rama and Lakshmana searched desperately for Sita, they came upon the grievously wounded vulture, Jatayu. With his strength failing, Jatayu spoke to Rama, recounting the terrible event: “She was carried off by the king of the Rakshasas, Ravana, that evil-minded one, who used a powerful illusion amidst a stormy, wind-filled day. O child, when I was exhausted, that night-wanderer cut off my wings and, seizing Sita of Videha, went swiftly southward.” Jatayu’s life ebbed away as he spoke, his vision blurring. “My life is leaving me, my sight reels, O Raghava; I see trees with golden crests, their tops scattered before me. In but a moment, Ravana, taking Sita, departed—just as lost wealth is swiftly regained by its owner. That moment is called ‘Vinda,’ but O Kakutstha, he did not realize it. Having taken your beloved Janaki, Ravana, lord of the Rakshasas, is like a fish that has swallowed the hook—he will quickly meet his end.” With a final effort, Jatayu sought to comfort Rama: “Do not grieve for the daughter of Janaka; soon you will rejoice with Vaidehi, having slain Ravana on the battlefield.” As the noble vulture spoke these words, blood mixed with flesh flowed from his mouth, signaling his end. He revealed, “He is the son of Vishrava himself, the brother of Vaishravana.” With these final words, the lord of birds released his hard-won life-breath. Rama, his hands joined in supplication, pleaded, “Speak, speak!” But Jatayu’s life departed, rising to the heavens. Placing his head upon the earth, stretching out his feet, Jatayu relinquished his body and fell lifeless to the ground. Rama, his heart heavy with sorrow, gazed upon the vulture’s unmoving form—his coppery eyes now still, his body vast and silent like a mountain. Overcome with grief, Rama spoke to Lakshmana: “For many years, this bird dwelt happily among the Rakshasas in the Dandaka forest, and now he lies destroyed. He who lived so long, arising after many years, now lies slain today; for truly, time is insurmountable. See, Lakshmana, this vulture, my benefactor, has been slain; he encountered Sita when she was seized by the powerful Ravana. Abandoning a great kingdom of vultures, inherited from his forebears, this lord of birds gave up his life for my sake.” Rama reflected on virtue, saying, “Indeed, everywhere are found the virtuous, those who walk in righteousness, the brave, and those who offer refuge—even among creatures born in animal forms. The sorrow caused by Sita’s abduction has not affected me as much as the destruction of this vulture, who perished for my sake. Just as the illustrious King Dasharatha, my renowned father, is worthy of honor and respect, so too is this lord of birds.” Rama then instructed Lakshmana, “Saumitri, bring wood; I will kindle a fire and cremate the king of vultures, who has met his end for my sake. I will lay this protector of the bird world upon the funeral pyre and burn him, Saumitri, who was slain by the fierce demon. The destiny attained by those devoted to sacrifice, those who maintain sacred fires, who never turn back, and those who give away land—by me, you are permitted: go to the highest worlds, O king of vultures, great in spirit; having been honored by me, depart.” Having spoken thus, Rama, righteous-souled and grieving as for a kinsman, placed Jatayu upon the blazing pyre and performed his cremation. Together, Rama and Saumitri entered the forest, hunted large and powerful animals, and offered them as tribute to the noble bird. Rama, cutting the flesh into pieces, laid it upon a beautiful green meadow as an offering. He performed the ancestral rites prescribed by the twice-born for the departed, sending Jatayu’s spirit to the blessed realms. Then the two sons of Dasharatha went to the Godavari river and offered water to the king of vultures. After bathing, they performed the water-rite as enjoined by the scriptures. Thus, the king of vultures, having accomplished a glorious and exceedingly difficult deed, fell in battle; honored like a great sage, he attained a blessed state. Having completed the water-rite for this foremost of birds, Rama and Lakshmana, fixing their minds firmly on the search for Sita, entered the forest once more, their resolve likened to Indra and Vishnu. Having performed these final rites, the two Raghavas set out again, searching for Sita in the vast expanse of the forest, first moving westward, then south, their bows, arrows, and swords ever ready. They pressed onward through a land thickly overgrown with bushes, trees, and many creepers—a place dense, difficult to traverse, and terrifying to behold. Swiftly crossing this dreadful forest, Rama and Lakshmana, mighty warriors both, pressed further south. After traveling three krośas beyond Janasthana, they entered the dense Krauncha forest, which resembled masses of clouds, delightful on all sides, adorned with many-colored flowers, and filled with herds of deer and flocks of birds. Longing to find Vaidehi, the two wandered through the forest, stopping here and there, their hearts heavy with grief over Sita’s abduction. After traveling three more krośas eastward, they passed through the Krauncha forest and approached the hermitage of the sage Matanga. There, they beheld a dreadful forest, filled with many fearsome beasts and birds, crowded with a variety of trees, and entirely dense with towering growth—a place both awe-inspiring and forbidding, as they pressed onward in their search for Sita.