Having taken leave of Rama and respectfully circumambulated him, the sages addressed Kakutstha, affirming, “So be it,” before departing just as they had arrived. Recognizing their departure, Rama turned to the great sage Vishvamitra, speaking gentle and sweet words as they walked together. With curiosity stirring in his heart, Rama asked, “What is that cluster of trees, dark as clouds, shining near the mountain? My curiosity about it is truly great. It is beautiful to behold, teeming with deer and exceedingly charming, adorned by birds of many kinds whose delightful calls fill the air. We have emerged, O foremost of sages, from the dense forest that thrilled us; by this, I understand the pleasantness of this region. Please tell me, revered one: whose hermitage is this, where those wicked, sinful slayers of Brahmins came upon you? To obstruct your sacrifice, O great sage, those evil-minded ones came; O revered one, what is that place where your sacrificial rites are performed?” Now begins the twenty-ninth sarga in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, in the Bāla Kāṇḍa. As Rama asked about the immeasurable one, the radiant Vishvamitra began to explain. “Here, O Rama of mighty arms,” Vishvamitra said, “Vishnu, revered by the gods, spent many years and hundreds of ages. Meanwhile, O Rama, Kashyapa, radiant as fire, together with Aditi, shone with energy. The blessed one, accompanied by the goddess, completed a divine vow for a thousand years, and praised Madhusudana, the bestower of boons. Kashyapa proclaimed, ‘I see you, the supreme person, composed of austerity, the heap of austerity, the embodiment of austerity, whose essence is austerity, by my well-performed austerity. In your body, O Lord, I see this entire world; you are without beginning and beyond description; I have taken refuge in you.’ Hari, pleased, addressed Kashyapa, freed from sin: ‘Choose a boon, may good come to you; you are worthy of a boon and dear to me.’ Hearing those words, Maricha Kashyapa spoke: ‘Aditi, the gods, and I have requested this together. O bestower of boons, supremely pleased, you are worthy to grant a boon; O steadfast one, let this sage, sinless one, become my son, and also the son of Aditi. Become the younger brother of Indra, O slayer of asuras; you ought to assist the gods who are afflicted by sorrow.’” Listen now to the thirtieth sarga in the glorious Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Bāla Kāṇḍa. Then the two princes, Rama and Lakshmana, foremost among men, who knew the proper place and time and were skilled in speech, spoke these words to Kauśika: “O venerable one, we wish to hear at what time the night-roving demons must be protected against; tell us, so that we do not miss that moment.” Thus spoke the two sons of Kakutstha, eager and hastening for battle; all the sages, delighted, praised the princes. Vishvamitra explained, “From today for six nights, you two Raghavas must guard; for this sage has undertaken a vow and will observe silence.” Hearing these words, the illustrious princes, sleepless for six days and nights, vigilantly protected the hermitage. Those two mighty warriors, skilled archers, attended with care and protected the great sage Viśvāmitra, destroyer of foes. When the sixth day had passed and the time arrived, Rama spoke to Saumitri, “Be alert and attentive.” As Rama spoke thus, eager and ready for battle, the altar blazed forth, with teachers and priests present. The altar, adorned with darbha grass, ladles, vessels, and heaps of sacrificial flowers, together with Viśvāmitra and the officiating priests, shone brightly. The sacrifice proceeded according to prescribed rites and mantras; then a great and terrifying sound arose in the sky. A cloud covered the sky, as in the rainy season; so too, the two rākṣasas, employing their magic, rushed forward. Mārīca and Subāhu, along with their followers, fierce as thunderclouds, arrived and poured down streams of blood. Seeing the altar drenched with that torrent of blood, Rama swiftly rushed forward and saw them in the sky. As those two suddenly descended, the lotus-eyed prince looked at Lakṣmaṇa and said, “Look, Lakṣmaṇa, at these wicked rākṣasas, eaters of flesh, driven by the force of the mānava missile, just as clouds are scattered by the wind. I will do it, there is no doubt; yet I cannot bring myself to kill such as these.” Having spoken thus, swift Rama readied his bow. Then, supremely noble and radiant, Raghava, in great anger, released the powerful Manava missile at Maricha’s chest. Struck by that supreme Manava weapon, Maricha was hurled a full hundred yojanas into the ocean’s surge. Seeing Maricha, unconscious, spinning, and tormented by the chill force of the arrow, Rama spoke to Lakshmana, “See, Lakshmana, the Manava arrow, composed by Manu, bewilders him and carries him away, yet does not take his life. These others too I shall slay—the merciless, the wicked-doers, the Rakshasas who destroy sacrifices and feast on blood.