As Rāma journeyed with the great sage Viśvāmitra, he recognized a particular place and, with gentle and respectful words, addressed the sage as they walked together. “O revered one,” Rāma asked, “what is that cluster of trees over there, dark as thunderclouds and shining near the mountain? My curiosity is truly great. The place is beautiful to behold, teeming with deer and exceedingly charming, adorned with birds of many kinds whose delightful calls fill the air. We have emerged from the dense forest that thrilled us, and by this, I sense the pleasantness of this region. Tell me everything, O foremost of sages—whose hermitage is this, where those wicked, sinful slayers of Brahmins once came upon you? Was it here, to obstruct your sacrifice, that those evil-minded ones appeared? Where, O revered one, is that place where your sacrificial rites are performed?” At this, the radiant Viśvāmitra, pleased by Rāma’s eagerness, began to explain. “Hear now, Rāma of mighty arms, of the glory of this place. Here, Lord Viṣṇu, revered by the gods, spent many years and hundreds of ages. During that time, the illustrious Kashyapa, radiant as fire, together with Aditi, shone with the energy of their austerities. For a thousand years, the blessed sage and the goddess performed a divine vow and praised Madhusūdana, the bestower of boons. Kashyapa, his austerities complete, beheld the Supreme Person—Viṣṇu—whose very essence was penance, whose form was composed of austerity, and in whom the entire world was contained. Kashyapa declared, ‘O Lord, I see this entire world within your body; you are without beginning and beyond description. I have taken refuge in you.’ Pleased, Hari addressed Kashyapa, now freed from all sin: ‘Choose a boon, O sage. Good fortune to you, for you are worthy and dear to me.’ Kashyapa replied, ‘Aditi, the gods, and I have together requested this: O bestower of boons, supremely pleased, grant that you yourself become my son, the son of Aditi, and the younger brother of Indra. O slayer of asuras, you ought to assist the gods who are afflicted by sorrow.’” After Viśvāmitra recounted this sacred history, the two princes, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, ever attentive to the right time and place, spoke respectfully to the sage Kauśika. “O venerable one,” they said, “we wish to know at what time the night-roving demons must be repelled. Tell us, so that we may not miss the moment to protect the sacrifice.” The sages present were delighted by the princes’ eagerness and praised them. Viśvāmitra replied, “From today, for six nights, you two Raghavas must keep watch. I have undertaken a vow and will observe silence during this period.” Hearing these words, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, resolute and illustrious, remained sleepless for six days and nights, vigilantly guarding the hermitage and protecting the great sage Viśvāmitra, destroyer of foes. When the sixth day had passed and the critical time arrived, Rāma turned to Lakṣmaṇa and said, “Be alert and attentive.” As Rāma spoke, eager and ready for battle, the altar blazed forth, surrounded by teachers and priests. The sacrificial ground was adorned with darbha grass, ladles, vessels, and heaps of flowers, and Viśvāmitra, together with the officiating priests, performed the rites according to sacred mantras. Suddenly, a great and terrifying sound arose in the sky as a dark cloud covered the heavens, just as in the rainy season. Two fierce rākṣasas, Mārīca and Subāhu, employing their magic, rushed forward with their followers, pouring down streams of blood upon the altar. Seeing the altar drenched in blood, Rāma swiftly rushed forward and saw the demons descending from the sky. He turned to Lakṣmaṇa and said, “Look, Lakṣmaṇa, at these wicked rākṣasas, eaters of flesh, who are driven by the force of the mānava missile, just as clouds are scattered by the wind. I will deal with them—there is no doubt—but I cannot bring myself to kill them outright.” Having spoken, swift Rāma readied his bow. Then, radiant and supremely noble, Rāma, in great anger, released the powerful Manava missile at Mārīca’s chest. Struck by that supreme weapon, Mārīca was hurled a full hundred yojanas into the ocean’s surge. Seeing Mārīca unconscious, spinning, and tormented by the chill force of the arrow, Rāma said to Lakṣmaṇa, “See, Lakṣmaṇa, how the Manava arrow, composed by Manu, bewilders him and carries him away, yet does not take his life.” Turning his attention to the others, Rāma declared, “These other merciless, wicked rākṣasas, destroyers of sacrifices and drinkers of blood, I shall slay.” So saying, as if to display his skill, the descendant of Raghu took up the mighty Agneya missile, ready to protect the sacrifice and fulfill his sacred duty.