Lakshmana, filled with conviction, spoke words of reassurance to Rama: “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 your rightful realm, O Rama, always remember me.” Thus addressed by his devoted brother, Rama turned to Lakshmana and spoke gently: “Do not give way to fear in vain, O hero; one such as you should not despair.” As they spoke, the cruel and monstrous Kabandha drew near to the two brothers. This mighty being, foremost among the Dānavas, addressed them in a booming voice: “Who are you two, with shoulders broad as bulls, bearing great swords and bows? You have come to this dreadful place, drawn here by fate to fall under my gaze. Tell me, what is your purpose in coming here?” He continued, his hunger evident: “You have entered this place where I, tormented by hunger, dwell. With your bows, arrows, and swords, you stand before me like bulls with sharp horns. You have come swiftly to me; for you, life will now be hard to obtain.” Hearing these threatening words, Rama, his mouth parched and spirit heavy, spoke to Lakshmana: “We have now encountered a calamity harsher than any before, O truly valiant one. Death has come upon us before I could recover my beloved. The power of Time is immense over all beings, O Lakshmana. See, O tiger among men, how you and I are bewildered by misfortune. Fate is a burden none can escape. Even great heroes, strong and skilled in weapons, fall in battle when struck by Time, just as sandbanks collapse.” Having spoken thus, Rama—steadfast and famed, son of Daśaratha—looked at Lakshmana, bold in action, and steadied his own mind with firm resolve. Now, as the two brothers stood there, Kabandha seized them in the grip of his terrible arms. The demon spoke: “Why do you stand still, having seen me, hungry as I am, O best of warriors? By fate you have come here, your senses clouded, for my food.” Hearing this, Lakshmana, though distressed, was unwavering in action. He said to Rama, “Very soon, this vile rakshasa will seize us both; let us swiftly cut off his mighty arms with our swords. This terrifying, huge-bodied rakshasa, with his powerful arms, has conquered the world and now wishes to kill us. O Raghava, for a king, the slaying of the helpless is disgraceful, like killing sacrificial animals in the midst of a ritual.” Enraged by their conversation, Kabandha opened his dreadful mouth wide and began to devour the two brothers. But Rama and Lakshmana, skilled in assessing the moment, acted swiftly and with joy: they cut off Kabandha’s arms at the shoulders with their swords. Rama severed the demon’s right arm, and Lakshmana, the left. With his arms cut off, Kabandha fell to the ground with a great roar, a sound that resounded through the sky, earth, and all directions like a thundercloud. Seeing his arms severed and his body drenched in blood, the demon, now dejected, asked the two heroes, “Who are you?” In response, Lakshmana, marked by auspicious signs, told the mighty Kabandha of their lineage: “This is Rama, known among people as the descendant of Ikshvaku; I am his younger brother, Lakshmana. When the kingdom was denied to him by his mother, Rama was exiled to the forest; he now wanders this vast wilderness 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 remembered the words of Indra and replied gladly: “Welcome, O tigers among men! By fortune I see you both, and by fortune my arms have been cut off by you. Hear from me how I came by this deformed appearance, a result of my own misdeeds, as I truthfully recount it to you.” Kabandha began his tale: “Long ago, O Rama of mighty arms, I possessed a form of immense strength and valor—an inconceivable form, renowned throughout the three worlds. My radiance was like that of the sun, the moon, and Indra. Assuming this appearance, I became a terror to all the worlds. I would frighten the sages dwelling in the forest, wherever they were. Once, a great sage named Sthūlaśiras was angered by me as he gathered forest produce, for I harassed him in this very form. Seeing this, he pronounced a dreadful curse upon me: ‘Let this cruel form of yours be condemned!’ Angered and desperate, I begged him for an end to the curse. The sage then spoke: ‘When Rama, having cut off your arms, burns you in a lonely forest, then you will regain your own vast and splendid form, adorned with glory.’” Kabandha concluded, “Know, O Lakshmana, that I am a son of Danu. By your hands, my curse will end, and I shall regain my true form.