Lakṣmaṇa, overcome by distress and helplessness, turned to his elder brother Rāma and spoke with anguish, “O hero, look upon me, powerless and fallen under the sway of a Rākṣasa.” He urged Rāma to save himself, saying, “You alone must escape, Rāghava; break free. Offer me as a sacrifice to the spirits and flee as you wish.” Lakṣmaṇa’s conviction was firm: “You will soon reach Vaidehī, I am certain of it; and, O descendant of Kakutstha, you will regain the kingdom of your fathers and grandfathers. When you are established in the kingdom, O Rāma, always remember me.” Hearing Lakṣmaṇa’s words, Rāma turned to the son of Sumitrā and replied, “Do not be afraid in vain, O hero; one such as you should not despair.” As they spoke, the cruel Kabandha approached the two brothers. Kabandha, mighty-armed and foremost among the Dānavas, addressed them, “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?” He continued, “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 from the wicked Kabandha, 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. As the seventieth sarga begins, Kabandha, seeing the two brothers bound by his arms, 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.” Lakṣmaṇa, though afflicted by distress, remained resolute and responded, “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.” Hearing their conversation, the enraged rakshasa, his dreadful mouth agape, began to devour the two brothers. But the two Raghavas, skilled in time and place, joyfully cut off his arms at the shoulder with their swords. Rāma swiftly severed Kabandha’s right arm, and the heroic Lakṣmaṇa cut off the left. With his arms cut off, that mighty-armed one fell with a great roar, resounding through the sky, earth, and all directions like a thundercloud. Seeing his arms severed and himself drenched in streams of blood, the demon, dejected, asked the two heroes, “Who are you?” Lakṣmaṇa, of auspicious marks, told the mighty Kabandha about their lineage: “This is Rāma, known among people as the descendant of Ikṣvāku; know me as his younger brother, Lakṣmaṇa. When the kingdom was denied to him by his mother, Rāma was exiled to the forest; he now wanders this great forest with me and his wife. While this divinely powerful one dwelt in the lonely forest, his wife was taken by a rakshasa; we are searching for her here. But who are you, and for what reason do you, resembling Kabandha, wander in the forest, moving about with a shining mouth on your chest and your legs broken?” Thus addressed, Kabandha recalled Indra’s words and gladly replied, “Welcome to you, tigers among men; by fortune I see you both, and by fortune my arms, which bound you, have been cut off by you. Hear from me, O tiger among men, how I came by this deformed appearance due to my own misconduct, as I truthfully recount it to you.” As the seventy-first sarga begins, Kabandha began his tale: “Long ago, O Rāma of mighty arms, I possessed a form of immense strength and valor—an inconceivable form, renowned throughout the three worlds. Just as the radiance of the sun, the moon, and Indra, so was my form; having assumed this appearance, I became a great terror to the worlds. O Rāma, I would terrify the sages dwelling in the forest, here and there; then, a great sage named Sthūlaśiras was angered by me. While he was gathering various forest produce, he was harassed by me in this form; seeing this, he pronounced upon me a dreadful curse. He said, ‘Let this cruel form of yours be condemned!’ Angered, I begged him that there might be an end to the curse.