In his audacity, Ravana unwittingly stormed into the realm of the Lord of Death, employing his sinister arts upon Sita. Yet, deep within her heart, she harbored an unshaken assurance, feeling no true harm from the Demon King or his wicked attendants. Though her mortal emotions wavered briefly, granting the demons a fleeting sense of superiority, Sita quickly reclaimed her composure. She drew a symbolic boundary with a mere straw, signifying that the Demon King, before her, stood powerless against the mortal strength and divine might of Rama.
Addressing Ravana, she proclaimed, “Ravana, King Dasaratha was the bridge between duty and virtue, and Rama, his son, embodies that greatness. Renowned across the three worlds for his unwavering truthfulness and indomitable weaponry, Rama, bound by sacred duty, is my husband, my very life and breath, and, in all but name, my god. His brother, Lakshmana, a lion-hearted warrior of serene mind, stands ready by his side. In but a moment, they shall consign you to the abode of death.
“Had you dared to insult me in their presence, you would have shared the fate of Khara, Dushana, and Trisira. Your overextended bravado, painted with the exaggerated strength of your demon forces, crumbled before Rama’s righteous anger, much like serpents quailing before the mighty Garuda. Rama’s gold-tipped arrows will pierce your being, as the sacred Ganga’s tides batter its banks. Demons may not vanquish you, but opposition to Rama will usher your departure from this mortal world. The power of Rama will snuff out your insignificant life in an instant, like an animal bound to the sacrificial post, doomed without hope.
“O demon! Rama’s mere gaze, charged with wrath, is enough to incinerate you. He, who could command the moon to descend, align the planets, and dry the oceans with a single arrow, will soon liberate me from your clutches. Your chances of survival diminish with each passing hour. Your senses falter, your wealth withers and your strength evaporates like dew under the sun’s rays. Lanka, bereft of its head, will pay the price for your avarice and thoughtless acts.
“You tore me from my ascetic life with my husband in the desolate forest—a sin beyond redemption. Rama’s unparalleled brilliance and bravery enable him to dwell fearlessly in the wild, devoted to the world’s welfare. His fierce arrows will shatter your ego, pride, strength, and recklessness. When time dictates correction, even the mighty falter, and you, a mere demon, are but a speck of folly destined for ruin.
“My insult, O inferior demon, spells doom for your kingdom. Innocents will perish under your cursed rule. The sacred fire, surrounded by holiness, is beyond the reach of the impure. I, the wife of Rama, the embodiment of Dharma, cannot be tainted by your wickedness. In a pond of swans, a water crow is never welcome. If your eyes covet this body, slay me, for I hold no attachment to it. Yet, I will not yield to threats or bribes, for I uphold the honor of the Ikshvaku and Mithila dynasties.”
Sita’s steadfast words struck Ravana, intensifying his rage. Enraged, he threatened, “O Sita! You have twelve months to submit, or our demon cooks shall make a feast of you.” He then ordered his demonesses to break her pride, to which they bowed, encircling the helpless Sita. Ravana stomped the ground, sending tremors through the earth, and commanded them to place Sita in the Ashoka grove, where she would be subjected to relentless intimidation, much like taming a wild elephant.
The demonesses led Sita to the luxuriant Ashoka grove, a paradise of verdant trees, fragrant flowers, and the melodic chatter of birds. Despite the garden’s beauty, Sita, worn by physical and mental strain, found little solace, encircled by the monstrous demonesses like a deer surrounded by tigers. The delicate princess of Mithila, beloved of Rama, struggled under the weight of her dire circumstances, her mind unsettled by the grotesque appearances and menacing demeanor of her captors.
Yet, Sita, with her delicate frame, resisted the mighty Ravana, crushing his vile intentions and advances. The script of fate unfolded with an intricate design beyond mortal comprehension, yet perfectly aligned with the universal order, guiding the events to their destined conclusion.