As the two fierce rakshasas suddenly descended upon them, the lotus-eyed prince Rama turned to his brother Lakshmana and spoke with calm resolve, “Look, Lakshmana, at these wicked rakshasas—devourers of flesh—now driven by the force of the Manava missile, just as the wind scatters clouds.” Rama’s determination was clear, yet compassion flickered in his heart. “I will do what must be done, there is no doubt,” he said, “but I cannot bring myself to kill such as these.” Even as he spoke, swift Rama readied his bow. Noble and radiant, Rama—scion of the Raghu line—was filled with righteous anger. He released the powerful Manava missile, aiming it straight at Maricha’s chest. Struck by that supreme weapon, Maricha was hurled a full hundred yojanas away, cast deep into the surging ocean. Lakshmana watched as Maricha, unconscious and spinning, was tormented by the chill power of the arrow. Rama explained, “See, Lakshmana, the Manava arrow, composed by Manu himself, bewilders him and carries him off, but does not take his life.” Then Rama declared, “These others I shall slay—the merciless, the evildoers, the rakshasas who destroy sacrifices and feast on blood.” Having spoken thus, as if to display his divine skill, Rama, descendant of Raghu, took up the mighty Agneya missile. With precision, he hurled it at Subahu’s chest. Struck by the blazing weapon, Subahu fell lifeless to the ground. Then Rama seized the Vayavya weapon and unleashed it upon the rest, dispersing the rakshasa horde and bringing immense joy to the assembled sages. Having destroyed all the rakshasas who desecrated the sacred rites, Rama, delight of the Raghu dynasty, was honored by the sages as Indra himself was once honored after victory. When the sacrifice was complete, the great sage Vishvamitra, seeing the quarters now free from evil, turned to Rama and spoke with gratitude, “O mighty-armed one, my purpose is fulfilled; you have accomplished your teacher’s command. O illustrious hero, you have truly sanctified this Siddhashrama.” Thus praising Rama, Vishvamitra approached the evening rites with the two princes by his side. With the coming of a new chapter in their journey, Rama and Lakshmana, their task accomplished, spent the night at Siddhashrama, their hearts full of joy and satisfaction. When dawn arrived, the brothers performed their morning devotions and, together, approached Vishvamitra and the other sages. Greeting the foremost sage—brilliant as fire—they addressed him with sweet and noble words, “O tiger among sages, here we stand as your attendants. Command us, best of sages—what would you have us do?” As they spoke, all the great sages, with Vishvamitra at their head, addressed Rama, “O best of men, Janaka, king of Mithila, will perform a great and righteous sacrifice. Let us go there. And you too, O tiger among men, must go with us; there you are worthy to behold a wondrous, precious bow. This bow, once given by the gods in assembly, is immeasurably powerful and terrible, shining supremely at the sacrifice. Neither gods nor gandharvas, asuras nor rakshasas, nor any humans can string it. Many mighty princes have tried to test its strength, but none have succeeded. This bow belongs to the great-souled king of Mithila. There, O descendant of Kakutstha, you will see both the bow and the wondrous sacrifice. The supreme bow was requested as the fruit of sacrifice by the king of Mithila, ever praised by the gods. It is kept in the palace as a sacred object, honored with fragrances and incense of aguru wood.” Having spoken thus, the great sage prepared to depart, bidding farewell to the forest dwellers. “Farewell to you all; I go, my purpose accomplished, from Siddhashrama to the northern bank of the Jahnavi, toward the rocky heights of the Himalayas.” With these words, the tiger among sages, Kauśika—rich in austerity—set out toward the north. A host of followers accompanied the great sage, stretching a hundred carts in length—devotees of the Vedas. Even the deer and birds of Siddhashrama followed the great-souled Vishvamitra. After journeying a long distance, as the sun began to set, the assembly of seers and the birds turned back. When night fell, they bathed and performed the fire offerings; then, led by Vishvamitra, those of immeasurable energy sat down to rest. Rama and Lakshmana, honoring the sages, took their seats before wise Vishvamitra. Rama, radiant and mighty, turned to the sage, curiosity shining in his eyes. “Revered one, what is this land, adorned with flourishing forests? I wish to hear—may it be well with you—please tell me truly.” Thus addressed by Rama’s words, the virtuous sage, amidst the assembly of seers, began to narrate the story of that land. “There was a great ascetic named Kusha, born from Brahma, steadfast in his vows, knower of righteousness, and honored by the virtuous.