Maricha, with eloquence and gravity, implored the demon king Ravana to abandon any notion of enmity with Rama, warning that such a course would be the gateway to hell. Yet, Ravana’s obstinate mind remained unsettled. Recognizing the unfavorable tide, Maricha resolved to recount his own harrowing experiences, hoping to dissuade the king from his hubristic scheme.
“Once, I roamed this earth with a body as mighty as a mountain and the strength of a thousand elephants. Adorned with massive golden earrings emblazoned with lions, and a crown of such immense weight that mere mortals trembled at the sight of my fearsome visage, sharp fangs, and crushing nails. Armed with a colossal crossbar capable of shattering mountains in a single blow, I devoured whatever crossed my path—beasts, birds, men, it mattered not.
In those days, the venerable sage Vishwamitra approached King Dasaratha, lamenting the terror I wrought upon the hermits. ‘O King,’ he pleaded, ‘let Rama, with his pure intent, rescue us from Maricha’s tyranny.’ Though Dasaratha, hands folded in deference, expressed concern over Rama’s tender age and inexperience in warfare, Vishwamitra, sagacious and resolute, insisted that none but Rama could vanquish the demon menace. The king, renowned across realms for his valor, acquiesced, entrusting his beloved son to the sage’s care.
Rama, though a mere youth, possessed a bow of divine splendor and a commitment to duty that belied his years. His lotus-like eyes, strong frame, and serene demeanor captivated all. Clad in the attire of a celibate prince, adorned with golden ornaments, and wielding a quiver brimming with arrows, he shone like a cool, radiant moon in the dense forests of Dandakaranya.
Fueled by the arrogance of my boons, I dared to challenge this boy at Vishwamitra’s hermitage. Yet, Rama, fearless and composed, strung his bow with a resounding twang that still echoes in my mind. With a single arrow, he hurled me into the distant ocean, sparing my life but leaving me unconscious for days. I returned to Lanka, humbled and half-dead.
O Ravana, having witnessed Rama’s divine power, I implore you to abandon your reckless plans. Should you defy me, the consequences will be calamitous for our kind. The demon race, once savage and nomadic, has flourished under your reign, embracing a life of civilization and joy. They have built grand homes, donned fine garments, and mastered the art of living in harmony. Your thoughtless vendetta threatens to undo this progress, plunging our world into ruin.
Consider your devoted wives and the prosperity of our people. Why risk all for the wife of a virtuous man whose destiny serves the welfare of the universe? Protect your throne, wealth, and honor. One impulsive decision could strip you of everything, casting the demon world into oblivion.
If, despite my warnings, you proceed, know that you invite the wrath of death upon yourself and your kin. Reflect upon the past, present, and future of our race, and recognize the wisdom in restraint. May this counsel illuminate the path away from destruction, preserving our legacy and securing the future of the demon world.”
Maricha paused, awaiting the impact of his words on Ravana’s destructive thoughts, hoping to steer him towards wisdom and the salvation of their kind. The cosmic order, impartial and just, awaited the next chapter of this unfolding destiny, filled with the promise of eventual good.