“The rains are over and the autumn, which is marked by a cloudless sky and limpid waters, has arrived; yet, dear brother, we have received no news about S¶tŒ. If only once I could anyhow come to know of her whereabouts I would recover her out of the hands of Death himself. Wherever she may be, if only she is still alive I would make an effort to rescue her, dear brother. Sugr¶va too has forgotten me now that he has got a kingdom, a treasury, the amenities of city life and his own spouse. I will shoot the fool tomorrow with the same arrow which I used in killing VŒli.” (Says Ýa˘kara) He whose very grace rids one of pride and infatuation, could He ever dream of being angry, UmŒ ? Those enlightened sages alone who have conceived a love for the feet of Ýr¶ RŒma (the Hero of Raghu’s race) can know the inwardness of this conduct of His. When Lakƒma˜a found the Lord angry, he strung his bow and took arrows in his hands. (1—4)