As Rama and Lakshmana conversed in the forest, their words reached the ears of a dreadful rakshasa, whose fury was awakened. With his terrifying mouth agape, the demon lunged to devour them both. But the two sons of the Raghava lineage, wise and alert, responded joyfully and skillfully. With their swords, they cut off his arms at the shoulder—Rama swiftly severing the rakshasa’s right arm, and Lakshmana, heroic as ever, slicing off the left. The mighty-armed demon, his limbs now lost, fell to the ground with a thunderous roar that echoed through the sky, earth, and all directions, like the rumble of a storm cloud. Blood streamed from his wounds, and seeing his own arms severed, the demon became dejected. He looked at the two heroes and asked, “Who are you?” As the demon spoke, Lakshmana, bearing auspicious marks, told him of their lineage. “This is Rama, known among men 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. Now, he wanders this great 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.” Lakshmana then asked, “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 the words of Indra and gladly replied, “Welcome, 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 how I came by this deformed appearance, the result of my own misconduct, 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. Just as the radiance of the sun, the moon, and Indra, so was my form. Assuming this appearance, I became a great terror to the worlds. O Rama, I would frighten 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, I harassed him in this form. Seeing this, he pronounced upon me a dreadful curse: ‘Let this cruel form of yours be condemned!’ Angered, I begged him that there might be an end to the curse. He, the author of the curse, spoke these words: ‘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. Know, O Lakshmana, that you are the son of Danu.’ Through Indra’s wrath, I obtained this form on the battlefield; for by severe austerity, I had pleased the Grandsire. He granted me long life, and thus confusion did not touch me. Having obtained long life, what could Indra do to me? Thinking thus, I challenged Indra in battle. With his hundred-spoked thunderbolt, he struck my thighs and head, piercing them into my body. Though I begged him, he did not send me to the abode of Yama. Indra said to me, ‘Let the Grandsire’s word be fulfilled.’ How could I, unfed and with broken thighs, head, and mouth—struck by the thunderbolt—live for a very long time? Thus addressed, Indra made my arms a yojana long and fashioned my mouth in my belly with sharp fangs. With these long arms, I seize the forest-dwellers here and devour lions, elephants, deer, and tigers all around. Then Indra said to me, ‘When Rama, together with Lakshmana, cuts off your arms in battle, then you will go to heaven. With this form, O best of kings, in this forest, whatever I see, I eagerly desire to seize. Surely, I think, Rama will come to seize me.’ Holding to this resolve, weary from maintaining this body, I say to you: you are Rama—blessings to you, Raghava—I cannot be slain by any other. As the great sage has truly said, it is possible to slay me. I will offer my counsel and support, O best of men. I will also instruct you both in the rites of friendship, sanctified by fire.” Upon hearing Kabandha’s story, Rama spoke as Lakshmana listened: “My illustrious wife Sita has been taken by Ravana. After leaving Janasthana with my brother, I know only the name of that rakshasa, not his form. We do not know his dwelling or his power; we are afflicted by grief, without support, wandering in distress. It is fitting to show compassion and render help to those who act thus, bringing dry wood broken by elephants at the proper time. We will burn you, O hero, in the great pit prepared; so tell us of Sita—by whom or where she was taken. Do a great good, if you truly know; reveal it.” Thus addressed by Rama, the mighty demon prepared to reply, offering his knowledge and guidance.