Behold, Janaka’s daughter, Sita, fully conscious of the perils that lay ahead, trembled with fear at the unfolding events of her life. Anxiously, she pondered whether news of her plight had reached Rama. Her anger swelled, her frustration ignited by the failed efforts of Jatayu, who had fallen short in restraining the demon. Her eyes, inflamed and red, bore a fierce gaze upon the dreadful form of Ravana. With a voice filled with disdain, she cried, “You vile demon! In the absence of warriors Rama and Lakshmana, you dared to steal me away. Have you no shame for such a low and despicable act? It is cowardice, pure and simple, to flee in fear of their retaliation. You are nothing but a weak, unprincipled creature.
“Through deceit, you conjured a magical beast to divert the warriors, and with their backs turned, you took me by force. My father-in-law’s friend a noble bird Jataayu fell trying to impart wisdom to you. O demon of low morals, you are a mere shadow, fleeing the light of true strength. A king of disgrace, you dared lift a defenceless woman, stealing her away by cunning. You claim to be a warrior, but your actions mark you as a craven soul. History shall record your deeds as those of a trembling kitten, boasting of hollow chivalry while scurrying like a frightened rat.
“Your tale is stained, and you must rewrite this dark chapter of your atrocities. You fly swiftly, driven by fear of the righteous fury that follows. The moment my Rama and Lakshmana face you, it will be your last. Rama, the divine, is the very breath of my life. I cannot survive without him, and he will find you, no matter where you hide. As death nears, one loses the sense of good and evil—you have reached that destined moment. Mark my words, your end is nigh.
“Those whose time has run out have the noose of death tightened around their necks. Ravana, you should fear the danger looming over your feeble head. The Lord of Death casts you into the hell of Vaitarani, dragging you through the forest of Asipathra. There you will be tied to a tree of thorns, and your sins against Rama will haunt you like a deadly poison. Ravana, you are bound by the unyielding thread of fate. You cannot escape Rama, who with ease destroyed fourteen thousand of your demon warriors. How then do you expect to be spared for your grievous insult to him? Armed with divine arrows, he will not forgive your monstrous act.”
Sita, seething with fury, shattered the demon’s confidence, her eyes ever searching for a way to relay her plight to Rama and Lakshmana. Glancing down, she spied five monkey warriors atop a mountain. Desperate, she tore a piece of her garment, tying her ornaments within, and cast it down toward them. The green-eyed monkeys, seeing a woman in distress, watched as Ravana, with a sinister satisfaction, carried Sita away.
Ravana soared over the River Pampa, heading toward Lanka, the goddess of death, as he saw her, now in his grasp. He crossed skies over lakes, forests, and oceans—the haunts of whales and crocodiles, unfathomable depths that trembled at Vaidehi’s presence. The celestial beings, the charanas and siddhas, whispered of Ravana’s impending doom, declaring that he had sealed his fate by abducting Sita.
Entering Lanka, Ravana carried the writhing Sita, who hissed like an enraged serpent. He traversed well-laid paths, reaching his palace, a fortress hidden by the sorcery of Maya. There, he entrusted Sita to the care of demonesses guarding the harem, warning them of severe consequences should they speak out of turn to her.
Believing himself invincible, bolstered by boons from Brahma, Ravana summoned his cannibal demonesses. Praising their past deeds, he commanded them to display their might and ferocity, to watch Rama’s every move, and to strike at the opportune moment. His instructions were clear: infiltrate Janasthana and ensure Rama’s downfall.
The demonesses, disguised as birds, took flight toward Dandakaranya, their mission set. Yet, in his arrogance, Ravana failed to see the fateful hand guiding these events. Despite his merits, his overconfidence led him to underestimate Rama, whose swift justice loomed over Lanka. Thus, the cosmic balance moved inexorably toward its destined course.