The days in the forest passed like flowing rivers — calm, steady, and bright. Rama, Sita, and Lakshmana lived simply, their hearts light with love, their minds at peace with nature’s gentle embrace.
But fate, ever watchful, had begun to stir the winds of change. Far away, deep within the dark forests of Dandaka, there lived Rakshasas — fierce and cruel. Among them was Shurpanakha, sister of the mighty Ravana, the king of Lanka.
Shurpanakha, wild and restless, roamed the forests freely. Her eyes burned red, her voice was harsh, and her heart knew no kindness. One day, as she wandered through the woods, her gaze fell upon Rama.
There he stood — noble and radiant, his skin glowing like polished gold, his eyes gentle like the morning sky. By his side sat Sita, beautiful as Goddess Lakshmi, her face serene, her every gesture graceful.
Shurpanakha’s heart twisted with desire. “Who is this man?” she thought. “I must have him. He shall be mine, and together, we shall rule these forests.”
Taking the form of a lovely maiden, Shurpanakha approached Rama, her eyes filled with longing. “O handsome prince,” she purred, “you belong not to this forest but to a queen. Come, leave this frail woman and make me your wife. I shall give you kingdoms, power, and love.”
Rama smiled gently, his voice calm as a quiet river. “O lady, I am bound in love. Sita is my heart, my soul. I belong to her alone. Seek not me — my brother Lakshmana stands there, strong and brave. Perhaps he shall be your match.”
Shurpanakha turned her eyes to Lakshmana, but he laughed, “I am but a servant to my brother and his wife. I have no place for love.”
Anger flared within Shurpanakha. Jealousy burned bright as she turned once more towards Sita. “If she is gone,” the demoness thought, “Rama shall be mine.”
With a roar, Shurpanakha dropped her disguise. Her beauty vanished, revealing sharp teeth, blood-red eyes, and claws like steel. She lunged at Sita, screaming, “I shall tear her apart!”
Before she could touch Sita, Lakshmana sprang forward like a lightning bolt. With a single strike of his sword, he slashed off Shurpanakha’s nose and ears. The demoness screamed, her voice echoing through the forest like thunder.
Wounded and humiliated, Shurpanakha fled, her heart burning with rage and revenge. She ran deep into the woods, to the strongholds of her Rakshasa brothers — Khara and Dushana — mighty warriors with hearts dark as the night.
Breathing heavily, she wailed, “O brothers! A mere human dared insult me — your sister! Slay him, burn his woman, and turn their world into ashes.”
Khara’s eyes blazed. “Fear not, sister. We shall avenge your shame. None shall stand before us.”
Thus, the drums of war began to beat, the forest trembling as darkness crept closer to Rama and his gentle world.
Little did the noble prince know that this encounter would awaken a mighty enemy — and set the stage for a tale of love, loss, and war that would shake the three worlds.