On the Road to the Hermitage

The king called Rāma and his younger brother Lakṣmaṇa, smelled the top of Rāma's head and gave him into Viśvāmitra's hands, and a soft, dustless breeze blew and flowers fell as they set out. Viśvāmitra walked ahead, Rāma behind him with his bow, and Lakṣmaṇa after Rāma, the two boys with quivers on their backs and bows in their hands.

When they had gone a yojana and a half along the southern bank of the Sarayū, Viśvāmitra said to Rāma, Sip water, child, and do not let the moment pass. Receive from me the knowledge called Balā and Atibalā. With them no weariness and no fever will touch you, and your form will not fade. No rākṣasa will be able to attack you, asleep or off your guard. Hunger and thirst will not overcome you. They are the mothers of all knowledge, the daughters of Brahmā. Rāma sipped water, and with a glad face and a clean heart received the two from the great sage, and shone like the autumn sun. That night the two princes slept on a bed of grass, which they had never known, and the sage's kind words made it comfortable.

They came at last to a fearful forest, where the yakṣī Tāṭakā lived, strong as a thousand elephants. The sage Agastya had once cursed her to take a fearful, man-eating form, and in her rage at the curse she laid the whole country waste and killed whoever came there. Viśvāmitra told Rāma to kill her. Rāma answered with folded hands that by his father's command and the sage's word he would do it, for the sake of cows and brahmins and the good of that land. He twanged his bowstring, and Tāṭakā came at them in a rage. Rāma did not want to kill a woman, and meant only to take away her strength, but she raised dust and rained stones on them, and changed her shape and vanished. Then Viśvāmitra said, Enough of mercy, Rāma. She is wicked and will grow stronger by her illusions. Kill her now, before evening, when rākṣasas grow hard to beat. Rāma shot her through the chest, and she fell dead. The gods praised Rāma and told Viśvāmitra to give him the weapons. The sage smelled the top of Rāma's head and said, Let us rest here tonight, and that night the forest, freed from its curse, shone as lovely as the gardens of Kubera.