After Sītā had departed, the two brothers—Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, renowned as destroyers of enemies—entered the dense forest with renewed vigor. As they pressed onward, Lakṣmaṇa, radiant and steadfast, virtuous and pure, spoke to his elder brother with joined palms, his face reflecting concern. “My arm throbs intensely,” Lakṣmaṇa said, “my mind is agitated, and I observe many unfavorable omens.” He urged Rāma, “Noble one, be prepared and heed my words; for these omens immediately foretell alarm.” Pointing to a bird called Vañjulaka, he noted, “This exceedingly dreadful bird cries out as if proclaiming our victory in battle.” While the brothers searched the forest with determination, a great and sudden sound arose, shattering the tranquility of the woodland. The noise, as if tightly enveloped by the wind, seemed to fill the entire forest, echoing all around them. Eager to discover the source, Rāma, sword in hand and accompanied by Lakṣmaṇa, beheld a mighty-bodied Rākṣasa with a vast chest. As they drew closer, they saw the monstrous figure standing before them: headless and neckless, Kabandha, with his mouth grotesquely placed on his belly. His body was covered with sharp, bristling hair, towering like a great mountain, dark as a rain cloud, and terrible to behold, his roar resounding like thunder. His brow blazed like a mass of fire, and his vast, tawny wings stretched outward. On his chest was a single, fearsome eye, clearly visible, and his great fangs gleamed as he licked his huge mouth. Kabandha devoured dreadful bears, lions, deer, and birds, his two terrible arms, each a yojana long, sweeping through the forest. With his hands, he seized bears, flocks of birds, and deer, dragging and pulling many leaders of herds. Blocking the brothers’ path as they advanced, Kabandha stood at a distance of a krośa, immense and terrifying, his appearance exceedingly horrible, his form like a massive trunk covered with arms. Suddenly, Kabandha stretched out his vast arms and seized both Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa together, forcefully gripping them. The two brothers, armed with swords and strong bows, fierce in energy and mighty-armed, found themselves helpless, being dragged by the powerful being. Yet, Rāma’s courage remained unshaken, while Lakṣmaṇa, younger and lacking support, was indeed shaken. Distressed, Lakṣmaṇa cried out to Rāma, “See me, helpless, O hero, fallen under the power of a Rākṣasa. You alone must escape, Rāghava; free yourself. Offer me as a sacrifice to the spirits and flee as you wish. You will soon reach Vaidehī, I am convinced; and, O descendant of Kakutstha, you will regain the kingdom of your fathers and grandfathers. Once established in the kingdom, O Rāma, you should always remember me.” Hearing Lakṣmaṇa’s words, Rāma replied, “Do not be afraid in vain, O hero; one such as you should not despair.” Meanwhile, the cruel Kabandha approached the brothers and spoke, “Who are you two, with shoulders like bulls, bearing great swords and bows? You have come to this dreadful place, destined by fate to fall under my gaze. Tell me, what is your purpose here, and why have you come? You have entered this place where I, tormented by hunger, remain. With bows, arrows, and swords, you stand like bulls with sharp horns. You have come swiftly to me; for you, life is now hard to obtain.” Hearing these words, Rāma, his mouth parched, spoke to Lakṣmaṇa, “Having encountered this calamity, harsher than any before, O truly valiant one—a disaster has come, bringing death, before I could recover my beloved. The power of Time is immense over all beings, O Lakṣmaṇa. See, O tiger among men, how you and I are bewildered by misfortune. There is no burden too great for fate among all beings, Lakṣmaṇa. Even heroes, strong and skilled in weapons, fall in battle when struck by Time, just as sandbanks collapse.” Thus speaking, the steadfast and truly valiant son of Daśaratha, famed and powerful, looked at Saumitri, bold in action, and then composed his own mind firmly. Now begins the seventieth sarga. Seeing the two brothers, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, bound by the grip of his arms, Kabandha spoke, “Why do you stand still, having seen me, hungry as I am, O best of warriors? By fate you have been sent here, your senses destroyed, for my food.” Hearing these words, Lakṣmaṇa, though afflicted by distress, remained resolute and spoke, “Very soon, that vile rakshasa will seize both you and me; therefore, let us swiftly cut off his mighty arms with our swords. This terrifying, huge-bodied rakshasa, with powerful arms, having conquered the world, now wishes to kill us both. O Raghava, for a king, the slaying of those who are helpless is disgraceful, like killing sacrificial animals brought to the midst of a ritual.” Thus, the brothers, caught in Kabandha’s grip, resolved to act together in the face of terrible adversity.